If Neito was a mosaic of all the people he valued, then who was he?

Was this confident act he put on him? Who he was? Now, he knew he wasn't soft or mushy, not by any means.

He liked to be blunt, sarcastic, and somewhat rude. His parents had taught him how to act around others, and he knew the difference between proper and improper etiquette. But all this, it felt like a mask.

His personality... was all borrowed from others. That was the truth. A unique mix of everyone else's being to make his own.

Acknowledging that fact, something within him felt empty.

Not that he would even tell anyone. It's not like an existential crisis was that major. Hey, what totally cool and awesome dude doesn't rethink every single decision they've made at an ungodly hour in the morning?

Groggily, Neito's eyes fluttered open, and he stared blankly at the ceiling, trying to decide if he was conscious or not.

Slowly, his senses returned to him. Yup, that was the sound of the morning birds, yup that was the sunlight filtering through his blinds and into his eyes.

Alright. He mentally ticked all of those off the list of what makes a day normal, shifting to sit on the edge of his bed, trying to gather up the braincells to become a functioning human.

Yawning, he slipped out of bed, making his way to his closet to begin the tedious process of becoming a presentable human being.

He always did his hair first, he didn't understand how some people just woke up and it was already perfect. Not that his hair looked bad, he just felt like taking it a step above everyone else. Then, he changed into a clean set of clothes, and, finally, freshened up in the bathroom.

He ran through the whole process relatively quietly. Because he's efficient and perfect, obviously.

He made his way down into the common room. Seeing some other people in class 1-B already up.

He makes his way over to the small kitchenette, he'll cook breakfast. He looks over his shoulder to see one of his classmates.

"Hey, you want breakfast?" He offers.