– POV Haruki Tanaka –
I sat there, mindlessly chewing on some fries with a tambourine resting on my feet—one I hadn't touched since I got here. Around me, a group of guys and girls chatted with an exhaustive energy. I found myself wondering how I, the most social guy on earth—whose life goals included making a hundred friends and landing an incredibly beautiful girlfriend—ended up here.
In case my sarcasm isn't clear: I'd much rather spend a Thursday afternoon reading a novel or catching up on overdue homework.
But instead, I was at a karaoke meetup, acting as the designated errand boy for whatever the others wanted. I used to wonder if Sato-san actually got off on treating me like his personal servant. But dragging me to a karaoke place that literally has staff for this stuff, just to make me fetch everything anyway? Yeah, that cleared up any doubts.
While lost in thought, a girl handed me a bill. "Go get me some gum and a soda," she said. Frustration pricked at my forehead, but I took the money and stood up to leave.
As I walked out of the room, I caught the sound of laughter and a final remark: "You were so mean, Sumire-chan!"
Heading toward the nearest vending machine, I started reflecting. It's been a year since I joined this group. Up until now, they only used me as a runner at school, but today they were leveling up. I knew they mocked me behind my back, but I also knew that if I kept playing along, I'd go from being the "quiet errand boy" to the "punchline" they could mess with whenever they felt like it. Just thinking about how this would escalate by next grade gave me the chills.
I reached the machine, fed the bill, and punched in the numbers for the gum and soda. As the items dropped, I came to a final conclusion: I'm cutting Sora-kun off.
In our first year, after suffering through five minutes of a social gathering where I did nothing but check my phone every five seconds, I decided to bail.
But as I reached the exit, Sora-kun came running up. "What's up, Haru? Why are you leaving?" he asked, looking genuinely bewildered.
I couldn't believe he didn't understand why I wanted to get out of there. "Sora, I really didn't want to come here. You know social events aren't my thing," I said dryly.
Sora frowned. "Haru, you always give up on things without even trying. I really wanted to hang out with you and the others together."
"Just because they're friendly to you doesn't mean they are to me," I replied, my annoyance rising.
"How do you know if you like them if you don't even talk to them?"
That was my limit. "What do you know? It's easy for you. You've never had someone look at you with pure contempt just for making eye contact."
He shot me an angry glare. "Fine. I'm sick of this. Do whatever you want. If you want to be alone your whole life, be my guest." He stomped off in a huff.
I was more annoyed that he got the last word than by what he actually said, but I was too tired to care and just went home.
We stopped talking after that. I had enough self-respect to know I wasn't the problem. If Sora-kun had hung out with people who were even slightly kind, I would have put in the effort. I can be many things, but a hypocrite isn't one of them; I'd rather read a 2,000-chapter Chinese web novel than be that.
But a week later, Sora-kun knocked on my door.
"Hey, Haru! What's up? Want to play the new Titanfall? It cost me an arm and a leg to get it." He gave me his best "guilty puppy" face while holding out the game.
I wanted to tell him to go to hell, but looking at his face, I saw he was genuinely trying to apologize in his own way. Just like that, my anger evaporated. It was frustrating how easily he could disarm me, but Sora-kun had been my friend since we were kids. In my subconscious, he was like a brother—the irresponsible, idiot younger brother, even if we were the same age.
I let out a long sigh and took the game. "You better buy ham pizza. My forgiveness isn't that cheap." I walked inside, leaving the door open for him.
He just laughed. "I'll bring two! You're actually scary when you want to be, you know?"
It should have been a happy ending, but life isn't that kind.
"Are you trying to make it look like I'm your subordinate?" I asked coldly later that night. I put the controller down and stared at him. It was late, and I was exhausted.
"Please, just listen!" Sora said seriously. "After you left, Sato-san asked about you, and he didn't take your sudden exit well. I just don't want them to bully you or treat you like crap because of it."
My mind immediately started connecting the dots. Sora was lying. Sato wouldn't get "angry" over me leaving; if anything, Sato would be glad I was gone. If Sato felt disrespected, he'd just hit someone. Did Sora really think I'd swallow this story?
I was about to blow up at him, but then I remembered I had just decided to treat him like a brother again. I wanted to see where this was going.
"What do I have to do?" I sighed.
He grinned. "Just take care of the errands during recess. I'll make sure it doesn't go further than that, I promise."
I raised an eyebrow. So that was it. He wanted to solidify his spot in the group by providing them with a "runner." It was an ingenious, if disgusting, plan. I thought about calling him out on the lie, but there was that face again—uncertainty and a flicker of fear behind his serious mask.
I kept my mouth shut and picked up the controller. "Fine. Let's play one more round."
He smiled with a challenge and stood up. "I'll go get the pizza first—got a text saying they're close. But get ready to get your ass kicked!"
The next day was my first day "on the job." It was a quick purchase. Sora-kun gave me an apologetic look from a distance while he was with Sato's group. I delivered the food and went to my seat.
I didn't understand why I was doing it, but seeing his smile when he talked to them, I realized he really wanted to belong. I guess I could understand—in previous years, he always chose to stay with me rather than join a group.
If it had stayed at that level, I wouldn't have minded the theater. But humans are creatures of habit. After a month, the degrading comments started. "Can't you go faster?" "Do you think we have all day?" And my favorite: "Hurry up, Haruki, we're paying you with our presence."
Slowly, they treated me worse. Direct mocks, rumors that I was their personal servant, and laughter every time other students saw me.
Four months in, I was ready to rebel. But when I confronted Sora, he broke down—tears, snot, the whole works—begging me to keep the act going. I never thought I'd be in a toxic relationship, especially not with my best friend. I made him promise to tell them to tone it down. He promised energetically, but as I expected, nothing changed. I became a target for their jokes at any moment. Even the girls joined in, sending me on errands until my arms were sore.
I wasn't an idiot. I set limits in my mind: if they asked for my own money, if it turned physical, or if it leaked into my life outside of school, I was done.
I returned to the karaoke room and handed Sumire her soda and gum. She didn't even look at me; she just grabbed them as if I were a vending machine with legs. I would have been offended if I hadn't only just learned her name a moment ago.
"Hey," Sato said suddenly, leaning back and tossing a half-eaten fry onto the table. The music dimmed as he lowered his voice. "Have any of you heard about the challenge the seniors did last year? The one at the old chemical plant?"
The room went silent. Everyone knew the rumors. Every year, the toughest upperclassmen dared each other to spend a night in that rotting building. It was a macabre rite of passage—if you backed down, you were a social pariah for the rest of the year.
"It's a relic from right after the war," Sato continued, a predatory look in his eyes. "A cleaning supply company. They only hired the desperate—people with no money, no family, no options. They paid them scraps to work sixteen-hour shifts breathing in toxic fumes. If anyone complained, they were tossed into the streets to starve."
He paused, letting the silence grow heavy.
"One night, there was an explosion. A sudden chemical fire. The main entrance collapsed, sealing the only exit. Those workers didn't burn to death; they stayed alive. The chemicals they manufactured evaporated into an acidic mist that filled the room. They spent their final hours clawing at the stone walls until their fingernails were gone, suffocating on the very soap they made."
"What about the owners?" Sora asked.
"They found them the next morning," Sato whispered. "Dead in their beds, miles away. Their lungs were filled with the same corrosive chemicals as the workers. They say the workers' resentment was so pure it fused them into a single, faceless stain of hatred. Now, anyone who steps foot in those ruins is mistaken for the ones who let them die. The dead don't care about your name; they just need someone to blame for the burn in their lungs."
Sato stood up and looked around. "Tomorrow at 5:00 PM. We're doing the challenge too. In pairs. If you scream or run, you're out of this group."
The room erupted into murmurs as everyone paired up. I stood alone, watching the groups form like a wall between me and the world. I took a deep breath, ready to finally say I'd had enough—that I wasn't going.
"And Tanaka," Sato interrupted with a sharp, cold gaze. "Don't even think about skipping. If you don't show up, you're paying the entire group's tab on our next outing. And believe me, I'll make sure we go somewhere that leaves you without a penny."
I clenched my fists. My pride was screaming at me to hit him, to shout, to end this theater right now. But before I could move, a hand gripped my shoulder with desperate strength.
"He'll be there, Sato-san! I'll make sure of it, I promise!" Sora exulted, laughing nervously while pulling me back.
Sato looked at Sora with pure disgust. He walked past him, leaning in and whispering loud enough for me to hear: "This is the last time I play along with your 'charity project,' Sora-kun. After tomorrow, the kid is on his own. If he's too pathetic to handle a simple dare, he's useless to me. And to you."
The humid night air hit me as I pushed through the glass doors. The neon sign above the bar flickered with a rhythmic, annoying buzz. I didn't stop to look back; I just wanted to get the smell of that room off me.
"Haruki! Wait!" Sora shouted, followed by the sound of his hurried footsteps on the pavement.
He caught up to me at the edge of the parking lot. He reached out to grab my shoulder, but I stepped aside before he could touch me. He froze, his hand hanging in the air. I'd seen enough breakup movies to know where this was going, but honestly, I was just fed up. I only hoped my cliché lines would be worth something, though thinking about using them on a man was doing a hundred percent damage to my self-esteem.
"Haru, come on... why the cold shoulder? I'm just trying to keep Sato off your back. You know how he gets if someone ruins the mood."
"Drop it, Sora. We both know Sato doesn't care if I stay or go. You're the one who needs me there."
Sora's face went pale. "That's... that's not true. I've always protected you. Ever since we were kids..."
"Since we were kids, I've been covering for your mistakes," I interrupted, my voice cutting through his excuse like a blade. "But it's over. This is the last time, Sora. After tomorrow, don't call me. Don't come to my house. Don't even greet me in the hallways."
I thought saying that would make me sad, but all I could think about was how I'd used a line from a drama. I just had to endure the secondhand embarrassment of having said it.
"Haru, you're overreacting. It's just a stupid dare..."
Finally reaching my limit, I said in a dry, cold tone, "Yamamoto-san. This is the last time I help you. If I were you, I'd use this time to find someone else to help you out. Because if you get in my way again, the one I'm going to punch won't be Sato—it'll be you."
I turned and walked away. I noticed he stayed glued to the same spot.
Did calling him by his last name really hit him that hard? How melodramatic.
Finally, the debt was due. I wasn't going into that hellhole alone, nor with someone who would betray me for a spot with the popular kids. I needed someone who was just as trapped as I was.
I found him behind the gym, staring at his reflection in a window as if he were in a manga and he was the protagonist.
"Natsuki-kun," I said monotonously.
Subaru jumped, his "cool guy" mask vanishing for an instant before he forced a loud, awkward laugh. "Oh! Tanaka-kun! What brings a commoner to visit the great...?"
"Stop it," I cut him off. I pulled the registration form from my pocket—the one with the red "Received" stamp. "Remember this? It's time to pay up. We're going to the old Shun-ka factory. Today at 5:00 PM. You're my partner."
Subaru went pale. He looked at the stamp, then at me. The glow in his eyes died out, leaving only the terrified child I had seen in the library.
"The... the factory?" he stammered.
"Be there," I said, turning my back on him. "Unless you want your parents to find out that their son is nothing but a coward and a liar."
I didn't wait for an answer. I knew he would come. After all, we were both cursed by the same thing: the fear of being seen for who we really were.
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Hey everyone, I'm back with a new chapter of Re:Origin!
You'll see that I tried to give Haruki a bit more depth in this one. I also finally understand how hard it is to connect all the ideas into a coherent story. Honestly, I have a whole new respect for authors who can drop 10,000-word chapters. For now, I'll stick with this length, but who knows? Maybe one day I'll go bigger.
Take care, everyone, and thank you so much for reading!