I woke up the next morning, the soft glow of the morning sun peeking through the curtains of the hotel room. I had barely slept, tossing and turning as the events of last night replayed in my mind. Growing up around violence and debts, you'd think I'd be used to it by now. But no matter how many times I had to do these things, it never felt normal.
The father's pleas, the boy gasping for air, the desperation in their voices—they stuck with me, clinging to me like shadows I couldn't shake.
I stared at the ceiling, feeling the weight of it all pressing down on my chest. With a heavy sigh, I forced myself out of bed, pulled on my uniform, and headed out the door. My body moved automatically—train, footsteps, school—like I was on autopilot, but my mind was still stuck on the night before.
By the time I reached the school, the usual murmur of students greeted me. But today, something felt off. As I walked toward the entrance, I noticed someone standing near the gate, leaning against the wall.
It was him.
The boy from last night.
He had his arms crossed, head down, and as I approached, his eyes flicked up for a brief second, meeting mine before darting away. I sighed inwardly, already bracing myself for what was coming.
Of course, I thought. I'm screwed. There's no coming back from this.
I knew how this was going to play out. My image at school was probably already ruined. I'd turned the boy's life upside down, and now, here he was, waiting for me. There was no avoiding it.
I kept my eyes forward, walking past him, hoping—hoping—he wouldn't say anything. But, of course, he did.
"Hey," he said, his voice low, almost hesitant.
I stopped, feeling my muscles tense. Slowly, I turned around, not saying a word, waiting for whatever was about to happen.
"Can we… talk?" He sounded nervous, his eyes darting around the school entrance.
I didn't respond right away, but eventually, I gave him a small nod and followed him. We walked in silence, climbing the stairs to the rooftop. The cool breeze hit me as we stepped out into the open, the sounds of the school fading below us.
He turned to face me, his face pale, his eyes hollow. I'd seen that look too many times. It was the look of someone who'd just realized how deep in they were. I leaned against the railing, waiting.
"My father's debt…" he started, swallowing hard. "How much is it?"
I hesitated. I already knew where this conversation was going. I'd seen it before—the disbelief, the begging, the promises to make things right. I could already picture him falling apart in front of me.
"It's a lot," I finally said, my voice flat. "More than you think."
His face grew even paler, his hands trembling. He looked like he was going to collapse, like the weight of the situation was crushing him right there. I stood there, watching, waiting for what I knew was coming next.
His shoulders slumped, and his voice trembled as he spoke. "I'll… I'll pay it back. Whatever it takes. Please, just… just let my father live in peace. He's dying," his voice cracked, tears welling up in his eyes. "He can't even work anymore. Please. I'll take on the debt. I'll do whatever it takes. Just let him live without this hanging over him."
I looked at him, feeling the weight of his desperation, the helplessness radiating off him. I'd seen it all before, too many times. And every time, it felt the same. There was nothing I could do to help, even if I wanted to.
Without a word, I turned, ready to walk away. I didn't need to hear any more. This was how it always went.
"This is adults' business," I muttered, my back still turned to him. "Let us handle it. You just sit back and stay out of it."
His sobs grew louder, his voice filled with raw pain as he screamed, "My father is dying!"
I paused for a second, but I didn't turn around.
"Please!" he continued, his voice breaking. "Let him live his life in peace. I'll take on the debt. I'll work for you… just please, let him have some peace."
The rooftop felt colder, the wind biting at my skin as I stood there, motionless. But I didn't respond. There was no point.
I didn't look back as I walked toward the door, my footsteps heavy against the concrete. His cries echoed in my ears, but I kept moving, shoving it deep into the part of me that had learned to block out this kind of pain. I didn't have room to care. I couldn't.
As I went down the stairs, heading back to class, the weight of his words lingered like a shadow.
Class started, but the teacher's voice was just background noise. My mind wandered, my eyes drifting out the window until they caught something in the distance. Down by the soccer field, I saw her.
Haruna.
She was standing at the edge of the field, her calm and composed figure a stark contrast to the chaos of students running around her. She stood perfectly still, her back straight, hands clasped in front of her, as if she were in her own little world, completely untouched by everything happening around her.
Even though she couldn't see the world around her, it seemed like she enjoyed it in ways I never could. Haruna didn't have to witness the cruel things that filled my world. Sometimes, I wished I could be like her—blind to the ugliness of it all, free from the constant reminder of the things I had to do. She didn't carry the weight of all this violence and despair, and even without sight, she seemed so much lighter than me. I watched her for a moment, longer than I should have. There was something about her that felt… distant. Like we were from two different worlds. While I was stuck in this web of violence and debts, she seemed free.
For a second, I wondered what it would be like to live in her world. To not have to carry all this with me every day.
But then, just as quickly, I pushed the thought away.
"Hey!" the boy shouted, his voice cracking as he burst into the room. His sudden entrance was so wild and out of place that, for a split second, I wasn't sure if I was hallucinating.
I had seen desperation before. I had seen people break, beg, and cry. But this? This was different. The kid looked like he had completely lost his marbles. His face was flushed, his hair a mess, and his eyes were wide with a kind of panic that I had never encountered firsthand.
The entire class froze, staring at him, then at me. Taka's grin disappeared, and even the teacher didn't know what to do.
"You can't just walk away!" the boy yelled, his voice hitting a pitch that made me wince. I could feel the blood rushing to my face. I had never been in a situation like this. It wasn't just desperation—it was like he had thrown logic completely out the window. I started to feel something I hadn't felt in a long time: embarrassment.
"Excuse me!" the teacher stammered, clearly rattled. "You need to leave—"
The boy ignored her, stepping further into the room, eyes locked on me. "You said it was adults' business, but my father doesn't have time! He doesn't have anything left! You can't just leave him to die!"
My heart pounded, but not from fear—from embarrassment. Is this really happening right now?
The teacher stepped toward him, but he cut her off, raising his voice. "I'll do anything!" he shouted, making the entire class flinch. "If you want me to be your dog, I'll be your dog! Woof! Woof!" He barked, literally barked, in front of everyone.
What the actual hell...
My brain literally short-circuited for a second. I had no idea what to do. This was beyond anything I had ever faced before. The class stared, wide-eyed, waiting for my reaction. I didn't know if I wanted to laugh or crawl under the desk and disappear.
The boy kept going. "I'll do anything! Just forgive the debt! Woof, woof!" He barked again, louder this time, and I could see students exchanging confused glances. Was this real? Was I on some sort of hidden camera show?
I couldn't take it anymore. I leaned forward, whispering harshly, "Shut the fuck up or I'm going to kill you if you don't stop this right now."
But he didn't stop. If anything, he seemed even more determined. "I'm serious! Woof, woof! I'll be your dog! Please!"
The teacher looked like she was about to have a breakdown herself. She was frantically trying to call the principal, but the class was too caught up in the madness to care.
I clenched my fists under the desk. I have to end this. Now.
"Fine!" I shouted, throwing my hands up. "I'll stop! I'll stop the debt! JUST STOP THIS NONSENSE!"
But he didn't believe me. "Are you sure?" he asked, still barking. "Woof! Woof!"
"Yes!" I snapped, starting to feel like I was losing my own mind. "I promise. Just stop it!"
Finally, the boy paused. He stared at me, as if he couldn't quite believe I had caved. I could feel everyone's eyes on me—students, the teacher, even Taka. They were all watching this absurd scene unfold, and for the first time, I broke character. I actually felt like begging.
"Please," I whispered, my voice strained. "I'll help you. Just… please… stop."
The boy straightened up, blinking in surprise. "Okay," he said simply, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. The shift was so sudden I almost couldn't believe it.
By the time the principal arrived with the teacher in tow, the boy had calmed down entirely. I braced myself for the fallout, but before the principal could say anything, the boy bowed deeply.
"I'm sorry for the disruption," he said politely. "That was just a performance. I'm auditioning for the next big role in the student play."
The class went dead silent for a second. Then, out of nowhere, someone started clapping. Slowly, the applause grew louder, and before I knew it, the entire class was cheering for him. Even the principal seemed taken aback, but he bought it. He actually bought it.
I slumped back in my seat, trying to process what had just happened. The applause was still ringing in my ears, the students smiling and laughing, completely oblivious to the real situation that had just unfolded. Taka leaned over, still grinning like an idiot, but I ignored him. I could feel the weight of the boy's words, the ridiculousness of the situation, and the strange relief that I had somehow survived it.
I thought the real world was scary—filled with debts, violence, and people desperate enough to do anything to survive. But school? School was a different kind of terrifying. A place filled with crazy people who didn't care about debts or life-and-death situations. They just cared about making a scene.
In the real world, people were at least mature enough to understand fear. But here, in this place, it was so much worse.
I was beginning to think school might be scarier than anything the yakuza ever threw at me.