The bell rings sharply, signaling the start of class. The teacher, a middle-aged man with thinning hair and a tired expression, shuffles into the room, holding a stack of papers in one hand. He doesn't seem to pay much attention to the students, as if his own exhaustion has become a part of the routine.
Kai quietly slips into his seat near the back of the room, hoping to blend into the background. His hands shake slightly as he arranges his books on the desk, trying to ignore the weight of Zamachi and Kujun's eyes on him. He can feel their malicious stares, even though they haven't said anything yet.
Zamachi sits in the row in front of him, and Kujun leans against the side of the desk, casting a glance over his shoulder every now and then. The room fills with the murmur of other students settling into their seats, but for Kai, it feels like everything is amplified. Each second is thick with tension, and he wonders if anyone else notices how much his chest hurts from the pressure.
"Alright, class,"
the teacher says, finally setting his papers down.
"Let's begin today's lesson. Open your textbooks to page 57. We'll be learning about the French Revolution."
Kai barely hears the words. His eyes are focused on the desk in front of him, trying to ignore the oppressive presence of the two bullies. Every breath he takes feels too loud in his ears.
Zamachi shifts in his seat, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. He turns to face Kai, his grin slowly spreading across his face like a snake ready to strike.
"Well, well,"
Zamachi says, his voice low enough so only Kai can hear,
"looks like someone's having a rough morning, huh?"
Kai doesn't respond. He doesn't even look up, his eyes glued to the textbook in front of him. His hands are clenched tightly into fists under the desk, but he knows better than to react. If he does, the consequences will be worse.
"Come on, I'm talking to you,"
Zamachi continues, his voice rising just a little, so the others nearby can hear him now.
"Did you really think you could just walk in here without us noticing? How pathetic."
Kai's heart races, but he forces himself to remain still. The last thing he needs is to draw attention. He just wants the day to pass, to make it to the end without further embarrassment.
But Kujun, sitting beside him, doesn't let him escape that easily. He nudges Kai's shoulder roughly, making the smaller boy jolt.
"I don't think he's hearing us, Zamachi. Maybe we should make him listen."
Kai flinches but says nothing. He can feel the blood rushing to his ears, a wave of heat flooding his face as he hunches further into himself, as if trying to shrink and disappear.
The teacher drones on in the front of the room, oblivious to the quiet cruelty unfolding in the back. The lesson might as well have been a faint buzz in the distance for Kai. The words have no meaning when he's constantly looking over his shoulder, waiting for the next blow.
Zamachi's voice cuts through the haze.
"Hey, freak. Are you going to just sit there all day, or are you actually going to pay attention?"
He kicks the bottom of Kai's desk with his foot, making it rattle.
Kai's stomach churns. He can feel the eyes of the other students on him now, even if they don't fully understand what's happening. He knows they're watching, some curious, some indifferent. A few might even find it amusing.
But the ones who are kind enough to give him a fleeting look of sympathy quickly look away, not wanting to be involved. They've all learned by now that crossing Zamachi and Kujun brings unwanted attention, and no one wants that.
Kai clenches his jaw and takes a deep breath. He has to get through this. He has no choice.
The teacher suddenly calls out,
"Kai, what's the answer to question three?"
Kai's heart skips a beat. He hasn't been paying attention. His mind is elsewhere, his body frozen in place. He hasn't even heard the question.
Zamachi's voice rings out like a cruel echo.
"He's too stupid to answer, Mr. Tanaka. Are you sure you want to ask him?"
A few students snicker under their breath, the sound almost unbearable in Kai's ears. His face burns with shame.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Tanaka,"
Kai says, his voice barely above a whisper. He feels the heat of the classroom's gaze on him, and he wants nothing more than to disappear into the walls.
The teacher sighs, running a hand through his hair.
"It's fine. Just try to pay attention from now on."
Kai nods silently, feeling small and insignificant as the lesson continues. But the words are a blur. Everything is a blur.
The lunch bell rings, signaling the brief break in the day. Kai doesn't have anyone to sit with, so he walks the halls aimlessly, his mind swirling. He's used to the solitude, the empty cafeteria, the corners of the school where he can retreat, but today, the tension feels heavier than usual. Maybe it's the way Zamachi and Kujun keep looking at him, like sharks circling their prey, waiting for the right moment to strike.
As he walks down the hallway, he hears footsteps behind him. He doesn't need to look to know who it is. The unmistakable sound of Zamachi's voice reaches his ears.
"Hey, Kai. Don't you ever get tired of being a little punching bag?"
Zamachi's voice is mocking, full of cruel amusement.
Kai quickens his pace, but he can't outrun the inevitable. Kujun's voice follows, low and threatening.
"Where do you think you're going, loser?"
Kai doesn't answer. He just keeps walking, hoping that if he ignores them, they'll eventually tire of following him. But it doesn't work. Kujun reaches out and grabs the back of his collar, yanking him to a stop.
"Not so fast,"
Kujun growls, spinning him around to face them.
Kai's heart pounds in his chest.
"Let me go,"
he says quietly, but it's more a plea than a demand.
Zamachi laughs, stepping closer, his eyes glinting with malice.
"Oh, you want to get away that badly? I think you owe us something for that little stunt in class."
Without warning, he shoves Kai hard, sending him stumbling back into a locker. The force of it knocks the wind out of him, and he gasps for air, unable to hold back a small cry of pain.
The hallway is still, except for the sound of his breath and the mocking laughter of the two boys. His knees feel weak, his entire body aching from the impact, but he doesn't move. He can't move. He's frozen in place, staring at the ground, hoping they'll just leave him alone.
But they don't.
Zamachi crouches in front of him, bringing his face close, their noses nearly touching.
"Pathetic,"
he spits.
"You're lucky we don't make your life even worse, tch piece of shit"
Kai's eyes sting, but he refuses to let them see him cry. He knows it'll only make things worse. So, he swallows his tears and forces his voice to stay steady.
"Please… just leave me alone."
The sound of approaching footsteps breaks through the tension. A teacher passes by, and Zamachi and Kujun straighten up, their smirks fading into neutral expressions. They stand and walk away, as if nothing happened.
Kai stays against the locker, his chest tight as he tries to compose himself. The hallway is empty again, and for a moment, it feels like he's the only one left in the world.
By the time the final bell rings, signaling the end of the school day, Kai feels drained. He walks home in silence, his head down, ignoring the strange stares from the few students walking in the opposite direction. It's the same routine: walk home alone, trying to avoid anything that might trigger another round of torment.
But even the quiet streets don't bring peace. His mind is loud with the echo of Zamachi's voice, the memory of Kujun's cruel grip. He clenches his fists, his breath coming in shallow bursts as he reaches the front door of his house.
His mom is home, but she doesn't look up as he enters. She's busy in the kitchen, her face a mask of indifference. Kai doesn't say anything as he takes off his shoes and heads upstairs to his room, the weight of the day pressing down on him.
At least here, he's invisible. At least here, no one is there to torment him.
He shuts the door behind him and collapses onto his bed, staring up at the ceiling, letting the quiet engulf him. His life feels like a never-ending cycle of pain and isolation. And as the sun sets, he wonders if there will ever be an escape.
But for now, he knows he has to survive. Tomorrow will be just another day. Another day to endure.
And somehow, he will make it through.
The sky outside his window is painted in soft hues of pink and orange, the colors bleeding together as the sun begins to set behind the distant mountains. Kai leans against the window, his eyes focused on the distant horizon, his mind clouded with the events of the day. The day hadn't been any different. The same cruel laughter, the same mocking words. He felt as though he had been carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders, and every time he was knocked down, the burden only grew heavier.
The house is quiet—eerily quiet. His father is still at work, as he often is late into the evening, and his mother has locked herself in the kitchen, cooking dinner as usual. Kai tries to push back the frustration and helplessness that gnaws at him. He has always been alone. He has always been told to stay silent, to deal with things on his own. But tonight, something inside him snaps.
Kai stands up from the window, his feet heavy as he walks toward his bedroom door. He pauses for a moment, taking a deep breath before stepping out into the hallway. The house feels like a maze, each step he takes making the walls feel closer, more oppressive. He walks past the living room, the muffled sound of his mother's voice drifting from the kitchen.
He hesitates for a moment before pushing open the door to the kitchen. His mother is standing over the stove, her back to him, stirring something in a pot. The faint smell of onions and garlic fills the air, but the aroma does little to comfort him.
Kai clears his throat, the sound awkward in the stillness. His mother doesn't turn around, but she stiffens, her shoulders tensing slightly.
"What is it, Kai?"
she asks, her voice cold but not unkind.
"I… I need to talk to you,"
Kai says, his voice unsteady. He doesn't know how to start. It's like something is lodged in his throat, something that's been there for so long that it hurts to speak. He takes a step forward, his hands trembling slightly at his sides.
"It's about school…"
His mother continues stirring, not looking at him.
"If this is about your grades, don't bother. I already told you, you need to try harder. I don't want to hear complaints."
Kai flinches, but he forces himself to continue.
"No, it's not about my grades."
He swallows hard.
"It's about the bullying. I can't take it anymore."
The words hang in the air, and for a long moment, his mother doesn't respond. She doesn't stop stirring the pot, her face still averted. The quiet is unbearable. Kai can feel his heart beating faster, each thud echoing in his chest like a warning.
"Bullying?"
His mother finally speaks, but her tone is dismissive.
"You think you're the only one who's had a hard time? When I was your age, I had to fight for everything I had. You think I had it easy? No one cares about your problems, Kai. You need to stop complaining and toughen up."
Kai's breath hitches. He has heard this before, so many times. Every time he tried to talk to her, she shut him down. He's always been the problem, always the one who wasn't trying hard enough. Always the one who couldn't handle the pressure.
"I don't know how to handle it anymore,"
Kai whispers, his voice small, fragile.
"Every day at school, I'm just… getting worse. Zamachi and Kujun, they don't stop. They—"
His mother interrupts him sharply, her voice cold and unfeeling.
"You're not a little baby anymore, Kai. If you let them get to you, they will. You have to be stronger. You have to show them that you won't let them walk all over you."
"But—"
Kai's voice cracks, the words slipping from his mouth before he can stop them.
"I want to transfer. I can't do this anymore. I can't go back tomorrow."
For the first time, his mother turns to face him. Her expression is unreadable, her eyes narrowing slightly. The wooden spoon in her hand stirs the pot with more force than necessary.
"Transfer?"
she repeats slowly, her lips curling into something like a smile.
"What good would that do? You think running away will solve everything? You'll be bullied anywhere you go. It's not the school. It's you. You're too weak, Kai."
Kai feels like the wind has been knocked out of him. His chest tightens, and for a moment, he's caught between wanting to scream and wanting to shrink into himself. He thought, maybe for a brief second, that he could find some kind of solace, some kind of understanding in his mother's eyes. But there's nothing. There's no empathy. There's no compassion.
"I'm not weak,"
Kai says, his voice quivering with a mix of frustration and sadness.
"I just want to feel safe. I don't want to go to school anymore. I don't want to live like this."
His mother's expression hardens, her features set in an unyielding mask.
"Life is hard. You don't get to run away every time it gets tough. You'll learn that, Kai. And if you keep whining about it, it'll only make things worse for you. Do you want me to tell your father about this? You know how he feels about weakness."
Kai recoils, a chill running down his spine at the mention of his father. He has seen enough of his father's temper to know that bringing up anything resembling weakness would only make things worse. His father doesn't tolerate complaints. His father doesn't tolerate anything that isn't perfect.
"I don't want you to tell him,"
Kai whispers, his heart sinking.
His mother snorts, turning back to the stove without another word.
"Then stop talking about it. Do what I told you. Grow up. Toughen up."
Kai stands there for a moment, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. He looks at the back of his mother, at her stiff posture, at the way she won't even glance at him. It's as if he's not even worth acknowledging. And in that moment, he realizes that no matter how hard he tries, no matter how much he wants to escape, there is nowhere to run.
"Okay,"
he says softly, his voice barely audible.
"I'll… I'll try."
His mother doesn't respond. She doesn't need to. Kai turns and walks out of the kitchen, his legs feeling heavier with each step. The weight of her indifference presses down on him like an unrelenting force, and he wonders if there will ever be a time when he can escape this suffocating silence.
Kai walks slowly back to his room, his mind swirling with the conversation. He can feel the bruises—both the physical ones and the ones he carries inside him. The ones that no one can see. His mother's words echo in his mind, each one like a jagged shard that cuts deeper than anything Zamachi or Kujun could ever do.
"You have to be stronger."
How? How can he be stronger when everything around him is crumbling? How can he survive in a world that only seems to get more painful each day?
He reaches his room and closes the door behind him with a quiet click. The room is dim, the only light coming from the faint glow of the setting sun through the blinds. He walks over to his bed, but instead of lying down, he stands by the window, staring at the darkening sky.
The pink and orange hues have faded, replaced by deep purples and blues. The stars are starting to peek out, distant and cold.
Kai's mind is restless, his thoughts a tangled mess of anger, sadness, and hopelessness. He wants to scream. He wants to throw something. But he doesn't. He doesn't do anything. He just stands there, staring at the stars, feeling more alone than ever.
He knows tomorrow will be just like today. Another day of torment, of isolation. Another day of pretending to be okay, when in reality, he's falling apart inside.
The door to his room creaks open, and Kai doesn't have to turn around to know who it is. His father's voice, low and gravelly, fills the silence.
"Dinner's ready,"
his father says curtly.
Kai doesn't respond. He just keeps staring at the stars, his heart heavy, his soul broken.
The air in the house feels thick, like the atmosphere just before a storm. Kai steps out of his room, dragging his feet, the weight of the day still clinging to him. His back aches, and his head pounds, but the worst of it is the gnawing emptiness in his chest. The same ache he has felt for years—an ache that no one has ever tried to ease.
As he walks down the hallway, the sound of his footsteps feels louder than they should, the silence of the house almost suffocating. The dim lighting casts long shadows, and Kai can hear the faint hum of the refrigerator and the soft clinking of dishes coming from the kitchen.
When he reaches the kitchen, he sees his father sitting at the table, his expression unreadable, his dark eyes watching him intently. There's an unease in the air, a tension that's almost palpable. His father rarely speaks to him unless it's about something important, and Kai knows that whatever is about to happen isn't going to be easy.
"Sit down,"
his father says, his voice gruff, a hint of authority in his tone that's hard to ignore. Kai hesitates for a moment, but then he does as he's told, slowly lowering himself into the chair opposite his father.
The silence between them is uncomfortable. His father doesn't immediately start talking, instead staring at Kai, his gaze unyielding. It feels as though his father is waiting for something—waiting for Kai to say something, or perhaps to finally show some kind of emotion. But Kai doesn't know what to say.
Finally, after what feels like an eternity, his father speaks.
"I heard about the bullying,"
his father says, his voice low but firm.
"The boys at school. Zamachi and Kujun, right?"
Kai's heart skips a beat, and his stomach churns. He wasn't expecting this. He didn't think his father knew anything about it. Maybe his mother mentioned something—maybe she told him to make sure Kai stops complaining—but hearing his father say it out loud sends a rush of heat to his face.
"Yeah,"
Kai mutters, his voice barely above a whisper. He looks down at his hands, not wanting to meet his father's eyes.
"They… they don't stop. It's every day."
His father leans back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest.
"And you're telling me this now?"
he says, his voice hardening.
"Why didn't you say something earlier? Why haven't you done anything about it?"
"I—I don't know what to do,"
Kai stammers, his words tumbling out in a rush.
"I can't fight them. They're bigger than me. They—every time I try to stand up for myself, it just makes it worse."
His father's expression hardens.
"That's the problem with you, Kai. You're weak. You think you can just run away from your problems? You think you can just hide in your room and let the world walk all over you?"
Kai flinches, the sting of his father's words cutting through him like a knife.
"I'm not weak,"
he says, the words barely audible, his throat tightening.
"I'm trying, okay? I just… I don't know what to do anymore. I can't take it. I just want to leave. I want to transfer schools. I can't keep going there every day."
His father's eyes narrow, his jaw tightening.
"Transfer? You think transferring is going to solve anything?"
His voice rises, a growl of frustration.
"You're not going to run away, Kai. You're not going to escape your problems just by changing schools. You'll face the same thing anywhere you go."
Kai's heart sinks as his father's words sink in. He wants to protest, to argue that it could be different, that maybe if he just left, he could start over somewhere else, but his father's anger is overwhelming.
"You want to run away?"
His father leans forward, his voice lowering to a cold, menacing whisper.
"You want to be a coward, hiding from your problems? You don't run from your problems. You stand up and face them. Do you understand?"
Kai doesn't answer immediately, his throat dry, his mind racing. He can feel the pressure building in his chest, the weight of his father's expectations pressing down on him, suffocating him. His father is right, in a way. He doesn't want to be weak, doesn't want to keep hiding. But the thought of facing Zamachi and Kujun again makes his stomach twist in knots.
"Look at me, Kai,"
his father says, his tone suddenly softer, though still carrying that edge of authority.
"This is how life is. It's tough. And you're going to have to learn to be tougher. No one's going to give you anything. No one's going to care. But if you want to survive, you need to stop being weak. You can't let anyone push you around."
Kai swallows hard, trying to keep the tears at bay, but they threaten to spill over. He nods, not trusting himself to speak. His father leans back in his chair, his gaze still fixed on Kai, as if waiting for something more—waiting for Kai to show the kind of strength he's asking for.
"You'll be fine,"
his father says, his tone clipped.
"But you need to toughen up. If you keep letting people walk all over you, they will. If you keep being weak, you'll just keep getting knocked down."
Kai nods again, the words sinking in. He doesn't feel stronger. He doesn't feel like he can take on the world. But he has no choice. His father is right. He has to survive. He has to get through this.
Dinner is served shortly after, but Kai feels like he's choking on his own thoughts. His father says little more, focusing on his food, while Kai pushes his own meal around on his plate. He isn't hungry, not for food, not for anything. His stomach feels like it's twisted in knots, the weight of his father's words hanging heavy on him.
He just wants it all to end. He wants the bullying, the isolation, the constant fear of tomorrow to stop. But there's no escape. There's no way out.
After dinner, Kai heads back to his room, the silence of the house wrapping around him like a suffocating blanket. His father's words echo in his mind, over and over, each repetition twisting the knife deeper.
"You're weak."
"You have to be tougher."
"Don't run away."
The weight of it all presses down on him, and for a long time, Kai just sits on his bed, staring at the walls, his mind a whirlwind of confusion and anger. He doesn't know what to do. He doesn't know how to keep going.
Tomorrow will be the same as today. Tomorrow, Zamachi and Kujun will be waiting for him. Tomorrow, his father will expect him to be tougher, to fight back.
But Kai doesn't know how. All he knows is that he's drowning, and no one is throwing him a rope.