What's Happening to Me?!

### Chapter 2: What's Happening to Me?!

The morning sun crept through the curtains, casting a soft glow across Yahari Kyoujiro's bedroom. He stirred, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he slowly sat up in bed. The previous day's events were a blur, but the strange taste of the sea fruit lingered in his memory. He ran a hand through his hair, feeling the grains of sand still caught in the strands. With a sigh, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and began to get ready for the day.

He shuffled to the bathroom, glancing at his reflection in the mirror. His black hair was a disheveled mess, sticking up in various directions. He splashed water on his face, then grabbed a comb to tame his unruly hair. Once satisfied, he brushed his teeth and changed into his school uniform – a crisp white shirt, navy blue trousers, and a matching blazer. He adjusted his tie, giving himself one last look in the mirror before heading downstairs.

The aroma of breakfast greeted him as he descended the stairs. His father sat at the kitchen table, engrossed in the morning newspaper. With his black hair neatly combed and glasses perched on his nose, he looked every bit the diligent public servant. His mother, on the other hand, was bustling around the kitchen with boundless energy. Her pink hair was tied back in a neat ponytail, and her blue eyes sparkled with warmth. She wore a light blue dress, and her fair skin gave her a radiant appearance.

Yahari joined his mother at the table, where an array of breakfast dishes awaited. Despite the early hour, both he and his mother had hearty appetites, much to his father's amusement. They ate with enthusiasm, the clinking of cutlery and cheerful conversation filling the room.

"Good morning, Yahari," his father said with a chuckle, watching his wife and son devour their breakfast. "You two never cease to amaze me with your morning energy."

Yahari grinned, his mouth full of toast. "Morning, Dad. It's the most important meal of the day, right?"

His mother laughed, piling more food onto her plate. "Exactly! You've got to fuel up for the day ahead."

As Yahari finished his meal, he grabbed a sandwich from the table, intending to take it with him. His mother noticed and called out, "Hey, bring that sandwich back here! I made it with love for myself!"

He gave her an apologetic smile, already halfway out the door. "Sorry, Mom! Gotta run!"

He stepped outside, closing the door behind him. As he walked down the street, he thought to himself, "I am Yahari Kyoujiro, fourteen years old. I have everything a normal person could want – a loving family, a comfortable home, and a peaceful life. And I emphasize 'normal.' I don't seek wealth, power, or fame because I'm quirkless and content with my ordinary life."

Yahari greeted the neighbors he passed, exchanging friendly morning wishes. Some offered him a "Good morning," while others simply nodded in acknowledgment. The neighborhood was waking up, the quiet hum of daily routines beginning to stir.

He made his way out of the residential area and onto the main street leading to the school. A group of students, dressed in similar uniforms, gathered at the crosswalk, waiting for the signal to change. Yahari joined them, the air filled with the usual morning chatter and the occasional laugh.

The scene was calm, the mundane conversations blending into the background. But the peace was shattered by the sudden blare of a car horn, loud and jarring. The students' heads snapped toward the sound, their hearts pounding in their chests. There, in the middle of the road, was a cat, frozen in fear as a car barreled toward it.

Instinctively, Yahari found himself moving before he even realized it. He darted into the street, his legs propelling him forward with surprising speed. He reached the cat just in time, pushing it out of the way with his fingertips. But there was no time to save himself.

CRASH!

The car struck Yahari with brutal force, sending him flying through the air. He landed several meters away, hitting the ground with a sickening thud. The world around him seemed to fade, the screams of the students and the horrified gasps of bystanders muffled, as if he were underwater.

Girls screamed, their high-pitched voices cutting through the air. Boys shouted in shock, and adults rushed forward, trying to help. Blood trickled from a wound on Yahari's head, staining the pavement. Despite the pain and the dizziness, he pushed against the ground, struggling to stand.

To everyone's amazement, he managed to get to his feet, swaying unsteadily. The driver of the car, pale and shaken, stared at him in disbelief. "What... what are you?"

Yahari looked back at him, confusion clouding his eyes. "Huh? What do you mean?"

As the shock began to wear off, Yahari glanced around at the stunned faces of the students and the concerned expressions of the adults. "Wait a minute," he thought, "how am I still standing?"

Before he could process what was happening, the cat he had saved leaped into his arms, licking his face gratefully. Yahari felt a mix of relief and bewilderment. Around him, people began to murmur, trying to make sense of what they had witnessed.

"Maybe he has some kind of super endurance quirk," someone suggested.

"Of course, no one would jump in front of a car unless they knew they wouldn't get hurt, right?"

"Yeah, we were worried for nothing."

The crowd started to disperse, reassured by their own explanations. But Yahari couldn't shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong. "What is happening to me?" he wondered, his mind racing with questions.

He walked toward the school, the cat still in his arms, and made his way to his classroom. The hallways were bustling with students, the noise and energy a stark contrast to his inner turmoil. He reached the door of his classroom, pausing for a moment as the events of the morning replayed in his mind.

The school itself was a typical building, with long corridors lined with lockers and classrooms filled with chatter. The walls were adorned with posters and announcements, the floors polished to a shine. Yahari's classroom was no different, a hub of activity as students settled in for the day.

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