Kryptonians: Man of Steel

Chapter 1566 Voluntary?

All the anger, questioning, and teacher's authority were instantly overwhelmed by an overwhelming sense of shame that could drown out reason!

She felt all the blood rush to her head, and her cheeks burned as if they were on fire.

A teacher should set a good example!

The daughter of the Hiratsuka family and a Japanese language teacher at Soubu High School, was seen by her own student—the same student who always had a deadpan look and spoke with a sharp tongue, Hachiman Hikigaya—wearing such... such... (she couldn't even find a suitable adjective in her mind) an appalling outfit!
This is even more painful than killing her outright!
Shame felt like countless fine, poisonous needles, piercing every inch of her skin, making her wish she could dig a hole and disappear into it, or simply have a bolt of lightning strike her and obliterate her!

"Now I'm asking you a question!!"

The extreme shame instantly transformed into a raging fury, a primal, desperate counterattack like a cornered beast.

Hiratsuka Shizuka completely lost her mind, throwing all pretense of teacher's composure and magical girl's elegance (though she never wanted to) to the winds.

She let out a scream that was almost one of shame and indignation, and her figure suddenly accelerated in a flash of pink light, leaving a blur in her wake.

The next moment, she appeared in front of Hachiman, her hand, clad in a white lace glove—containing terrifying power amplified by "shame energy" far beyond ordinary people—clenched into a fist, and with a whistling sound and a wisp of uncontrollably escaping pink magical light, slammed hard and solidly into Hachiman's face!
Bang!
A dull bang.

Hachiman didn't even have time to react before he felt an irresistible force slam into his cheekbone, his vision instantly filled with blinding stars and darkness. Intense pain accompanied by a wave of dizziness washed over him.

Like a broken puppet with its strings cut, his body was violently thrown down by this force, crashing heavily onto the cold, damp ground covered with fallen leaves.

Dust mixed with the stench of blood choked his mouth and nose. The demonic sword hummed as he fell, and the eyeball on the hilt suddenly widened, emitting a dangerous red light.

"Cough...cough..."

Hachiman lay on his side on the ground, coughing violently, each cough causing excruciating pain in his wounds. Blood gushed from his torn mouth and nostrils, dripping onto the ground and leaving dark red stains.

He struggled, using his still-movable arm to prop himself up, and his blurry vision slowly focused.

He saw Hiratsuka Shizuka standing in front of him, looking down at him.

Her chest heaved violently, her face still flushed with shame and anger, her clenched fists trembled slightly, and the pink magical light emanating from her body resembled chaotic stardust, revealing the extreme turmoil within her.

Her eyes, burning with rage, were fixed on him, as if she wanted to burn him through.

The pain, like a cold tide, ironically brought a cruel clarity to Hachiman's chaotic thoughts.

He knew that physical attacks would not solve the problem, but would only deepen the rift.

But he knew even better that the root of Hiratsuka Shizuka's anger was not merely his "degradation," but rather a sense of humiliation and powerlessness stemming from a shared misery and being manipulated by fate.

He wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, which was covered in mud and blood, and raised his head. His dead fish eyes stared intently at Hiratsuka Shizuka's eyes, which were flashing with shame and anger, through his messy, blood-stained bangs.

His voice was hoarse from pain, yet it carried a power that pierced through the chaos and went straight to the heart:

"Teacher...violence...or avoidance..."

He took a breath, enduring the sharp pain in his ribs, and clearly uttered the boomerang-like, fatal question: "Would that solve the problem?"

"you……"

Hiratsuka Shizuka was speechless at his almost provocative, calm questioning. She clenched her fists even tighter, her knuckles making a soft cracking sound.

Hachiman didn't give her a chance to catch her breath or throw another punch. He immediately followed up with the ultimate question he had prepared long ago, a question that was enough to pierce through all her defenses. His voice wasn't loud, but it struck Hiratsuka Shizuka's heart like a heavy hammer:

"Could it be... that you willingly became like this? Did you willingly become a 'magical girl'?"

The air seemed to freeze at this moment.

"...Of course not!!!"

Hiratsuka Shizuka practically screamed those words, her voice filled with fury, despair, and unspeakable shame at being struck where it hurt most.

That gorgeous dress seemed to instantly transform into a red-hot branding iron, tightly binding her and scorching her dignity.

She wished she could immediately, right there and now, completely strip, crush, and delete that damned so-called "super shame system" that feeds on her shame from the depths of her soul!
Every transformation, every battle, every increase in power is accompanied by an exponentially increasing sense of shame.

That outfit, those exaggerated magical effects... constantly reminded her how absurd and pathetic her source of power was!

How can this be considered a force to protect others?

This is clearly a never-ending public execution at the cost of her social death!

This humiliation, this sense of helplessness, this feeling of being forcibly dressed in a farcical costume... how could she possibly be willing?!
Her denial was like a thunderclap, carrying an almost desperate honesty.

This roar was not only a rebuttal to Hikigaya, but also the strongest indictment of the absurd fate she herself had endured.

Hikigaya Hachiman lay on the ground, listening to Hiratsuka Shizuka's painful and humiliating roars, feeling the burning pain on his face and body, and looking at the cold night sky above.

His lips, hidden beneath blood and dirt, twitched upwards with extreme slowness and difficulty. It wasn't a smile; it was more like a resigned, weary expression, a mark of having grasped some cruel truth.

"Volunteer……"

He silently chewed on the word, his tongue tasting the rusty blood and endless bitterness.

This word is like a double-edged sword; it just wounded Hiratsuka Shizuka, and now it is also deeply cutting back at him.

The system's cold contract, the "yes/no" with no room for choice, the tragic fate of being called a "hero" but actually a "container"... His "voluntary" and Hiratsuka Shizuna's "involuntary" forced to wear the shameful battle armor, ironically converged under the mockery of fate.

Two souls, bound by their own unspeakable "systems," one standing, trembling with shame; the other lying down, gasping for breath in pain.

A vast chasm lies between them—a chasm of identity, a chasm of power, a chasm of cognition.

(End of this chapter)