Shhh... Hah... Shhh... Hah... That breathing sound was horribly out of place. There was an unfamiliar ceiling. White, generic, a boring ceiling you'd see anywhere. Nothing like the cold metal panels in my bedroom. "...What is this place?" My voice. It was wrong. No heavy mechanical resonance. It was raw, light. Like a young man's voice. I tried to sit up and nearly lost my balance from how light my body felt. "[surprised]What the—" I looked at my arms. Thin. Not enough muscle. No cape, no gloves, no life-support control panel. Just pajamas, the kind a Japanese high school student would wear. I searched for a mirror. Lunged for the cheap full-length one in the corner of the room. What I saw there— It wasn't a giant in a black mask. It was black hair, slightly long in the front, with bedhead. Reddish-brown eyes, a little downturned. About 174 centimeters tall. A lanky, thin frame, but with a back that was strangely, unnaturally straight. Who the hell is this? "I am... Darth Vader. Dark Lord of the Galactic Empire..." The boy in the mirror moved his mouth the same way. The voice was still that of a young man. I couldn't process it. My head felt like it was going to explode. "[crying]Iatsu! You're gonna be late!" A carefree woman's voice rang out from downstairs. Mother. This body's mother, apparently. My name seemed to be Ochimoribe Iatsu. I glanced at the shelf and saw a display of plastic model warships. An offensively low-accuracy model of a Star Destroyer I had once commanded. So this was my room. I sighed. A "shhh" sound leaked from my mouth. I didn't have my mechanical respirator, but apparently the habit was still there. My neck felt stifled, so I tugged at the collar of my pajamas. I had no idea what had happened. But it seemed that I was now a high school student named Ochimoribe Iatsu, and I had to go to a place called school. The Dark Lord of the Galactic Empire. What a humiliation. With clumsy hands, I put on the navy blazer of Hoshimigaoka High School. Tied the necktie. I ended up pulling it too tight—maybe I was unconsciously seeking the pressure of my old mask. I shoved my hand into my slacks pocket and found a folded piece of paper. A class schedule. Modern Japanese, Math II, Chemistry, Japanese History... What kind of code was this? Staring at the incomprehensible list of words, I walked out of the room with heavy steps. ... Hoshimigaoka High School sat halfway up a gently sloping hill. Passing through the school gate, a four-story reinforced concrete building loomed ahead. Bigger than I'd expected. "Morning!" "Did you watch that anime yesterday?" "Did you do the math homework?" Countless conversations flooded my ears. Laughter, footsteps, the squeak of indoor shoes. Everyone wore the same navy blazer. The uniform of this planet's youth. I remembered reading the school guidebook back in my first year. This place was Hoshimigaoka City in Kanagawa Prefecture. Seven hundred and twenty students. Evaluated by some incomprehensible number called a "deviation score" of 58. You could see Sagami Bay from the windows. The terrain wasn't bad. Class 2-3. I climbed to the third floor to find my classroom. The easternmost room, with good sunlight. My seat was at the very back by the window. Someone's textbook sat on the desk next to mine. The bell rang. Our homeroom teacher, Wakamiya Tatsumi, walked in. A thirty-four-year-old Japanese teacher. He usually had a gentle face, but there was something about him that suggested he'd be terrifying if you made him angry. "[serious]Right, we have a new classmate joining us today. A transfer student. Please introduce yourself." I stood at the podium. Forty pairs of eyes stabbed into me. This level of scrutiny was nothing to fear. I had once glared down tens of thousands of soldiers. I fixed my gaze forward and slowly opened my mouth. "I am Darth—" I started to say it, then choked on the words. No. "Dark Lord" wouldn't mean anything to these people. I rolled the words around in my throat and somehow corrected course. "...No. Ochimoribe Iatsu." An awkward atmosphere rippled through the classroom. Someone snickered. Someone else exchanged confused glances. Wakamiya looked slightly troubled and just said, "Ah, yeah. Well, get along with everyone." The worst possible start. I returned to my seat. I wanted to sigh deeply and collapse onto my desk. And then. "[excited]Hey, hey, can I call you Iatsu-kun?" A bright voice flew at me from the neighboring desk. I turned. There was a girl with fluffy, voluminous, brownish short bobbed hair. A small star-shaped hairpin sparkled on the left side of her hair. Large, bright brown eyes stared at me, brimming with curiosity. She was about 155 centimeters tall. Very small. "[gentle]Nice to meet you! I'm Hoshino Hikari!" A beaming smile. I had never encountered a lifeform that approached a complete stranger so unguardedly. In the Galactic Empire, if an unknown person carelessly approached you, that alone was grounds for interrogation. "...Yeah." I replied curtly. Undeterred, she leaned in closer. Did she not understand the concept of personal space? That's when it happened. My pencil case, sitting at the edge of my desk, was knocked to the floor by her momentum. With a clatter, its contents scattered. "[surprised]Ah, sorry!" She hurried to pick it up, but I unconsciously stopped her with my hand. It was nothing. I could just pick it up with the Force. That's what I thought. I reached out my hand. Focused on my fingertips. I sensed the flow of the Force, the energy that dwelled in all things, and willed the pencil case to rise. Just like always— But. The next instant. FWOOOSH! The pencil case shot through the air like a rocket. Not a parabola. A straight line. It tore through the classroom air and slammed into the window. An ear-splitting CRASH! Shards of glass scattered, and the pencil case vanished into the courtyard beyond. Silence. Everyone in the classroom froze, mouths agape. The expression vanished from Wakamiya's face, and the chalk he was holding dropped to the floor with a clatter. I froze too. What was that? It wasn't supposed to be like this. I didn't mean to do that. This was— "...Well." Wakamiya opened his mouth, his face pale. "[scared]Pretend psychic powers are forbidden. In this classroom." His voice was no longer that of a teacher, but of a pitiful man trying desperately to escape reality. A buzz spread through the room. "What was that?" "His hand didn't touch it, right?" "That's seriously terrifying..." Eyes filled with a mix of fear and curiosity stabbed into me all at once. Everyone was blatantly starting to keep their distance. I'd done it now. I held my head in my hands internally. This body wasn't adapted to the Force at all. Just a little concentration, and that was the result. I couldn't even move a single pencil case properly. But then, into my despairing ears— "[excited]AMAZING!!" An incongruously bouncy voice flew in. I looked. Hoshino Hikari at the next desk was clapping, her eyes sparkling. Even though that pencil case had shattered the window, there wasn't a trace of fear on her face. "[excited]Real psychic powers!? Amazing, amazing, amazing! Hey, show me again, show me!" She jumped up from her chair and leaned over my desk, planting both hands on it. Her small face was right in front of mine. The star-shaped hairpin swayed. What was this creature? "...Stop it." I said, recoiling. A sense of wariness, like I'd encountered an unknown species, ran down my spine. "Ehh, why, why?" "It's dangerous. I can't control my power." "That's what makes it cool!" It made no sense. It's good because I can't control it? The thought processes of this planet's youth were completely beyond my understanding. In the end, her interrogation was cut short by Wakamiya's pained voice: "We're starting class now, anyway." As for me, I barely remember the rest of the lesson, what with the guilt of breaking the window and the strange looks from everyone around me. ... After school. I had fled to the very last stall in the empty boys' restroom. Leaning against the stall wall, I looked up at the ceiling. "Hah..." A deep sigh escaped my lips. (What is this situation? Why is the Dark Lord of the Galactic Empire in a place like this—) My head was a mess. Anger, confusion, and a small despair I didn't even want to admit to myself. I closed my eyes. Unconsciously, deeply. The next moment. GURGLE GURGLE GURGLE GURGLE!!! An incredible sound erupted. I opened my eyes to see the toilet water flowing backward. That wasn't all. The water was writhing like a snake with a will of its own, violently gushing upward toward the ceiling. It was an impossible amount of water for a toilet. "[scared]What the—" SPLASH! In an instant, I was soaked from head to toe. The water that hit the ceiling rained down like a shower. My uniform, my hair, even my textbooks—everything was drenched. (Again. The Force went out of control again...!) I heard students' voices from the hallway. "Hey, water's leaking from the ceiling." "Whoa, is the bathroom okay?" This was bad. In a panic, I left the stall and, still soaking wet, hurried away from the scene so no one would see me. Only the "shhh, hah" of my breathing seemed unnaturally loud in my ears. ... On the way home. A lukewarm breeze rustled my still-damp uniform. The setting sun dyed the school route orange. (Why am I in a place like this?) I thought absently as I walked. Was there a way to return to my original body? Why had my soul entered the body of an ordinary high school student on such a distant planet? My feet stopped in front of an old building. The Former Home Economics Building. An eighty-year-old, two-story wooden structure. This place alone had a distinctly different atmosphere from the other school buildings. A strange stillness, as if it had been left behind by time. I strained my ears. Beep... beep-beep-beep... beep... A faint electronic sound came from deep within the walls. That sound— My heart thumped hard. It was almost identical to the communication protocol sounds of the Galactic Empire. There was no mistaking it. It was a sound I had heard every single day. I placed my hand on the wall and closed my eyes. (Just as I thought. This frequency, the pulse pattern—. Why, in a place like this?) Just as I tried to concentrate— "[serious]Hey, you. Student." A low voice called out, and I looked up with a start. It was the custodian, Togane Genzo. A surly old man of sixty-two, always wandering the school grounds in a tracksuit. He was in charge of managing this old building and seemed convinced the sounds in the walls were just "creaky pipes." "[cold]It's the pipes creaking. Now go on, get home." He said this, waving his hand dismissively. I hesitated for a moment, then left. Now wasn't the time to stir things up. I still didn't understand anything. ... When I got home, my mother Sanae called out from the kitchen, "Welcome back! How was school?" "...Nothing special." That was all I answered before shutting myself in my room. A small six-tatami-mat room. The shelf was still lined with those offensively poorly-made plastic battleship models. From the window, I could see the residential area of Hoshimigaoka. I faced my desk. As a test, I held my hand over a pencil on the desk. Concentrate. Sense the flow of the Force that dwells in all things. Just a little. Just a tiny bit. I focused my nerves into my fingertips. Move. ...It didn't move. Not a twitch. Damn it. This time, the toilet disaster from earlier flashed back, and that fear stole my concentration. As frustration welled up, the textbook on my desk instead floated up a few millimeters for a split second before flopping back down. It had almost gone out of control again. "[sad]Hah..." I collapsed onto my bed. In the end, I couldn't even move a single pencil properly. If I