Haruka stood in the dim light of his new room, staring blankly at the wall. The weight of his parents' lifeless bodies still pressed heavily on his chest, a memory etched in bitter clarity. The few fleeting moments of joy with them felt like dust in the wind, slipping through his fingers. They had been his only family, and now he was left with nothing but a hollow echo of what once was. The realization hit him—an orphan in a world that felt unnervingly vast and indifferent, he had Jack.
Returning to Jack's house was a shift, a fragile attempt at normalcy. Jack, a beacon of warmth, guided him to his new room. "Haruka, don't be sad," he said, his voice gentle but firm, as if trying to anchor Haruka to the here and now. "This will be your new room. Think of this whole house as yours."
"Thanks…" Haruka murmured, his voice barely a whisper, an echo of the pain that suffocated him. Jack nodded, an understanding look crossing his face. Even amidst familial quarrels, they remained his parents—a complicated tapestry of love and strife woven into his existence.
Alone in that room, Haruka contemplated his apparent curse. It was as if fortune itself had decided to shun him, leaving him stranded in a relentless sea of despair. He lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling, questioning the cosmic injustice that placed suffering squarely on his shoulders while others basked in the sun. Why not someone else? Slowly, darkness embraced him, lulling him into a dreamless slumber devoid of respite.
Years slipped by like shadows. Haruka was now 16, in his second year of high school, brushing his teeth with a mechanical routine that felt numbing. Jack prepared breakfast downstairs, a familiar scent that lingered in the air, a comfort amid the chaos. Standing before the mirror, Haruka caught sight of the scar on his forehead—a cruel reminder of a violent encounter with bullies. The laughter of youthful ignorance echoed in his mind; they had taken pleasure in his suffering, wielding a bat like a weapon forged in malice. Jack had intervened, but the scar only drew further ridicule from those soulless brutes.
Another day loomed before him, shrouded in the mundane fog of school life. Haruka finished his morning rituals, resigned to the inevitable cycle of breakfast, bus rides, and the dreaded classrooms. The bus was packed, the scent of sweat and boredom nearly suffocating, yet he found solace in the fleeting landscapes outside the window, where the world was full of vibrancy he felt disconnected from.
Upon arriving, the school gate greeted him like an old acquaintance. As he crossed its threshold, he felt the familiar void open up—a chasm between him and the other students. He climbed the stairs to class, taking refuge in the back corner, a forgotten island amidst a sea of chatter and laughter.
When the math teacher entered, he felt the weight of expectations crash around him. A subject he despised loomed like a specter over him, each equation a reminder of his inadequacies. His efforts felt Sisyphean; for every step he climbed, he was pulled two steps back into the depths of mediocrity.
Fatigue clung to him, a shadow from the previous night's restless thoughts. Lunchtime arrived, a brief intermission amid the monotony. Although he had a handful of acquaintances—Aurel, Yume, Marcus, Saito, Fuyuki, and Naoki—each interaction felt like threading a needle in a storm, complicated and vulnerable.
And then there was Yume. She existed in his mind as a vibrant presence, a brightness in the fog. Failing her grades for two years, she seemed otherworldly, stuck in time like he was. Whenever he encountered her, his heart would quicken, each beat an unwelcome reminder of his own longing. Every word she spoke wrapped around him like a vine; he lost himself in her laughter, in the way her eyes sparkled like shards of a shattered dream.
His friends approached, bantering in an attempt to draw him from the depths of his gloom. Aurel's laughter rang like a bell, Saito's thoughts pierced the air with a depth that resonated, while Fuyuki's humor brought fleeting light. But as the infamous bullies approached, a familiar dread washed over him. One of them seized his collar, a grip like a noose tightening around his neck. "For YOU, brat! This is your doing! Our parents were humiliated by the headmaster because of you! You'll pay for this scar—you'll get more, too!"
Just as despair threatened to consume him, Yume appeared, followed by Aurel and the others. The bullies glanced at the gathering group, their bravado faltering in the face of camaraderie. Rather than launching into more threats, they retreated, shame stinging their pride.
"Oh Haruka!" Yume laughed, a sound like tinkling glass. "I thought they'd put on a show! Isn't it ironic that they're the ones who should be ashamed?"
Her words hung in the air, a delicate bouquet of friendship woven with defiance. As she rummaged through her backpack, an unexpected gleam of hope ignited within him. Then she produced a forehead band that she had made, a simple gesture, yet heavy with meaning.
"Oh, Haruka, I made this for you…" she said, extending it toward him.
Blushing, stammering, he replied, "T-thanks, Yume…" A smile broke through the layers of his melancholy as he accepted the band, something small yet monumental that tied him to the world, if only for a moment.