When you’re different, there’s always bound to be those who envy and hate you.
Shouichi knew this because he has read a lot of books; fantasy, action, and those social studies books that are required for an angel’s education - special courses for his kind that prepare them for their future professions as arc angels, guardian angles, or whatever kind of an angel you wanted to be.
He knew of envy; he knew of the negative emotions. His father had told him of them, he had told him to avoid them for it was not in an angel’s virtue to feel those emotions.
Suppress them at all cost.
But angels attended schools with human children, and the cruelty of humans was apparent even in the small classrooms stuffed with children ranging from seven to ten-year-olds.
And it was fun for them to pull and tug at their wings, pluck the feathers off even when they knew that it hurt the angels.
This happened to Shouichi a lot - being physically the weakest among the angels, he was often picked on, and today had been no different.
Feathers scattered on the ground, his knees scraped and bleeding, Shouichi tried his best not to cry as he gathered his books into his backpack.
It hurts, Father.