Kryptonians: Man of Steel

Chapter 1539 Hiratsuka Shizuka: What exactly did you go through?
The afternoon sun slanted through the long corridor of Sobu High School, casting the shadows of window panes on the polished floor.

The air was filled with the languid and noisy atmosphere unique to the end of lunch break. Students walked to their respective classrooms in twos and threes, their laughter and footsteps blending into a background sound.

However, amidst this daily hustle and bustle, an invisible chill was quietly gathering in a corner of the corridor.

Shizuka Hiratsuka, the Japanese language teacher and life guidance instructor known for her iron fist and cigarettes (though prohibited on campus), is fixing her sharp eyes on the student in front of her—Hachiman Hikigaya.

She originally just wanted to routinely "reprimand" this "problem child" whose recent whereabouts had become somewhat mysterious and who always seemed to be surrounded by a cold aura.

In her consistent perception, the biggest problem with Hachiman Hikigaya, this decadent shut-in who takes "youth is a lie" as his guiding principle, talks about being a "stay-at-home dad" all day long, and solves other people's problems with self-destructive methods (while leaving himself covered in wounds), is that he is getting deeper into his distorted philosophy of self-sacrifice, or that he is planning another "heroic" action that is destined to leave him scarred in some dark corner.

She stopped him, her tone a mixture of helplessness and habitual concern, her voice carrying a unique blend of sternness and barely perceptible tolerance that she possessed for Hachiman: "Hey, Hachiman, you've been acting a bit elusive lately. What's with that unapproachable aura you're giving off? Are you up to your old 'helping' tricks again? And this time, are you planning to blow yourself up into a state of serious injury?"

Hachiman's reaction was exactly what she expected—or rather, it was expected just seconds before she spoke.

As usual, he tried to respond with his signature dead fish eyes, as if he had no interest in anything, and his slightly hunched posture.

Hiratsuka Shizuka abruptly stopped speaking, as if an invisible hand had gripped her throat.

All the pre-set lines—about youth, about responsibility, about not always treating yourself as a disposable item—vanished instantly.

Her throat tightened, and her heart felt as if it were being gripped by an icy hand, sinking sharply downwards.

“I’ve seen it,”

Her voice suddenly changed, no longer the teasing or blaming tone of a teacher, but imbued with an unbelievable, almost terrifying, complex emotion. Each word seemed to be squeezed out with difficulty from between her teeth. "I've seen it in the eyes of those veterans who have just rotated out of hellish war zones, whose bodies still smell of gunpowder. I've seen it on the faces of those who have truly experienced the thrill of licking blood from the blade and repeatedly leaping between life and death."

Her gaze was like a tangible probe, fixed on Hachiman Hikigaya's face, trying to penetrate his habitual facade of decadence and look directly into the core of his eyes.

"But absolutely, absolutely it should not happen to you—Hachiman Hikigaya!"

Her voice suddenly rose, carrying a sharpness and...fear that she herself was unaware of. "On a decadent shut-in who constantly shouts that he wants to be a stay-at-home dad and keeps saying things like 'youth is a lie' as his motto!"

The stark contrast struck Hiratsuka Shizuka's heart like a cold hammer.

She felt a wave of dizziness.

How can this be?

The boy before her was the same Hachiman Hikigaya she had watched cower in a corner, hurting others and himself with his twisted "gentleness," and avoiding any form of conflict like the plague!

He wrapped himself up tightly in thick armor called "decadence" and "self-loathing," hated all trouble, and believed in the negative philosophy of "if you don't participate, you won't get hurt."

His world was probably limited to the corner of the classroom, the way home, and that small apartment room. In his dictionary, the word "fight" at most meant fighting with his younger sister, Komachi, over the remote control.

But now, these eyes...

After a brief moment of being out of focus, those eyes instantly became like the sharp edge of a quenched blade—cold, sharp, and without the slightest trace of confusion.

His pupils contracted sharply in response to the change in light, and the muscles at the corners of his eyes tensed like a fully drawn bowstring. His gaze was not unfocused, but rather swept across every detail within his field of vision at an astonishing speed—the shadow at the corner of the corridor, the reflection in the distant window glass, and even the slightest movement of Hiratsuka Shizuka's own shoulder—as if a high-speed scanner were instantly assessing all potential threats.

It's an instinctive reaction ingrained in our very bones—an extreme sensitivity to danger!

A terrifying focus—an extreme concentration on the target (is it the reflection of the locker at this moment? Or is it her?), capable of instantly eliminating all distractions and mobilizing all mental and physical strength to make a life-or-death decision!

There was not a trace of the decadence, hesitation, self-mockery, or deep-seated self-destructive tendencies that belonged to Hachiman Hikigaya in those eyes.

It represents highly taut nerves, an iron will, and a kind of... almost instinctive fighting spirit.

That composure isn’t something that can be easily acquired through training; it’s more like a survival mode that’s been forcibly hammered and imprinted into the depths of one’s soul through countless life-or-death moments!
The stark contrast stirred up a storm in Hiratsuka Shizuka's heart.

She initially sensed something was "off" about Hachiman based solely on her keen intuition as a teacher and martial artist (though she rarely showed it).

His whereabouts are elusive; he is often nowhere to be seen during breaks. When you occasionally brush past him, he carries an indescribable, chilling sense of incongruity, like a piece of metal just taken from an ice cellar, exuding a harsh aura.

She stopped him today, intending to use her usual method—a mix of threat and concern—to wake him up and confirm that this student, who always inexplicably worried her and was like a sharp-edged yet fragile piece of glass, hadn't gone any further down the path of self-destruction.

However, the dramatic change in those eyes completely and utterly shattered all her predictions!
This is not at all what she thought was "growing pains of adolescence" or "forced maturity after experiencing setbacks".

This transformation was too drastic, too cold, too...inhuman.

This is more like a forced distortion at a fundamental level!

A cold, bloody mark, imprinted on the original soul by external violence!
It was as if someone had forcibly pried open the shell of that decadent youth and brutally stuffed inside a fragment of a war-weary, decisive soul.

Hachiman Hikigaya himself seemed to be frightened by the eyes reflected in the mirror (or rather, in the blurry, distorted image on the metal surface of the locker).

It was as if he was seeing himself for the first time.

Shock, bewilderment, and disbelief surged like a tide in his eyes, almost breaking through the thin, icy calm he had been forcibly maintaining.

(End of this chapter)