The morning light seeped through the blinds, casting pale streaks across the ceiling. Igarashi Seiito lay sprawled across his futon, half-buried in his blanket, his mind drifting in the hazy space between sleep and wakefulness.
His room was quiet, save for the faint ticking of the clock and the distant hum of life outside. For a moment, he wasn't in his bed. He was somewhere else—years ago.
A grand hall. Applause rolling like distant thunder. His father, standing tall, chest broad, as a medal was pinned to his uniform. Seiito had been just a child, peeking up at him with wide, awestruck eyes. The sunlight had caught the medal's surface, making it gleam like something divine. His father had looked so strong then, so unwavering. The kind of man legends were written about. Seiito had clenched his tiny fists, his heart swelling with admiration. He wanted to be like that. To make his father proud. To fight for righteousness and justice! To be a hero!
"You're going to be late, Seiito!" His mother's voice shattered the memory, dragging him back to reality like a fisherman yanking a stubborn catch from the water. He groaned, rolling onto his side, eyes still half-lidded.
Maybe if he stayed still, time would slow down, and he could drift back into his dream.
"Seiito!"
He sighed dramatically before finally mustering the will to sit up. His body felt heavier than it should—sleep clinging to his limbs like an iron chain. His hair was a mess, sticking out in odd directions, and his blanket was tangled around his legs like he'd fought a battle in his sleep.
Dragging himself to the bathroom, he halfheartedly brushed his teeth, eyes barely open as he stared at his reflection, his movements sluggish.
The toothbrush dangled lazily from his mouth as he debated whether or not to go back to bed.
With a resigned sigh, he splashed cold water on his face, shivered, and then haphazardly threw on his school uniform, buttoning it unevenly at first before fixing it with a yawn.
By the time he stumbled into the kitchen, he was still only half awake. He grabbed a sandwich off the counter and wolfed it down like a man who hadn't eaten in days, chewing absentmindedly as he blinked the sleep from his eyes.
One day, he would follow in his father's footsteps. He had to. But first, he had to survive another school day.
"You better start getting better grades, or I'll toss your console into the lake! You hear me?!" Her face was flushed with frustration, and Seiito flinched, nodding rapidly.
"Yes! Yes, Mother…" He didn't want to disappoint his hardworking mother any more than he already had. She let go, and he hurried out the door, her parting words echoing in his mind.
"And stop being mediocre!!" Her voice lingered in his thoughts, leaving a bitter taste of deflation and hurt.
It was like an old, broken record—her constant refrain that he wasn't doing enough. Seiito lingered at the doorway, the weight of his mother's words pressing him down as he adjusted the strap of his bag. He clenched and unclenched his fists as if somehow they could shake off the dull ache in his chest.
As he entered the school grounds, he broke into a slow jog, trying to make it to class before the bell rang. But as usual, he was just a second too late. His teacher, predictably annoyed, gave him the same exasperated look she always did as if it were inconceivable how he could always be late by the same amount of time every single day.
"Go on, Seiito. I'll be back—I have some urgent matters to attend to." The teacher sighed and walked away, her heels clicking sharply against the floor.
Seiito smiled wryly as he walked past her, bowing slightly in apology for his… consistency.
A strange glow outlined the frame of the classroom door, just bright enough to catch Seiito's attention.
He paused, his eyes narrowing as he took in the unexpected light. For a moment, he wondered if it was just a trick of the sun, filtering through the hall at just the right angle. Yet, something felt off—unnaturally so.
He hesitated, skepticism and curiosity battling within him, but finally stepped forward, his hand sliding the door. Whatever this was, it had disturbed the quiet routine of his day, and now he couldn't look away.
As he stepped into the classroom, he felt the weight of several pairs of eyes glaring at him, making him anxious. He avoided their judgmental stares and headed to his usual seat in the far corner, where he felt most comfortable. Pulling out his chair, he settled in for another long day.
"Tch…"
"You're late. As always." A stern voice beside him broke the silence. The speaker was Takemi, a classmate who seemed to have it all together. Fit and handsome, with sharp features, azure hair, and golden eyes, he looked at Seiito with a mixture of disappointment and frustration.
"Takemi?" Seiito dragged out the name nervously, unsure of what to say.
"You always do this, Seiito. When will you change?" Takemi crossed his arms, clearly irritated.
Seiito's throat tightened as he struggled to come up with an excuse. "I-I live far… that's why."
"If you didn't eat so much junk, maybe you wouldn't always be late." Takemi scoffed, loud enough for the whole class to hear.
The room erupted in laughter, with most of the students finding Takemi's comment amusing.
Seiito's heart sank as he heard their cruel laughter. Among those laughing the loudest was Yoshioka Kōji, Seiito's daily tormentor, who never missed an opportunity to belittle him.
Flanked by his cronies, Suke Yukiya and Kamakawa Ryūju, Kōji seemed to revel in Seiito's discomfort.
Kōji stood with the careless confidence of someone who knew exactly how good he looked and never let anyone forget it. His lean frame held a casual arrogance as if every movement was designed to show off his supposed perfection. A single strand of crimson hair swept boldly across his forehead, striking against the jet-black strands that framed his face—a deliberate touch of rebellion. His uniform hung loosely on him, tie half-undone, shirt untucked, and blazer shrugged lazily over one shoulder, as though rules were beneath him. A cloud of sharp cologne followed him wherever he went, suffocating and unmistakable, like he thought he could drown out everyone's senses with sheer presence alone.
Kōji didn't just wear his cockiness; he weaponized it.
"Really, Takemi-kun! I doubt that ball of grease would even lose weight!" Kōji mused, his voice dripping with mockery.
"Bwahahaha! For real! I wonder if he'll even live long enough!" Suke chimed in, his laughter echoing through the room.
Kōji grinned sardonically, "I don't think the military will want a slow, sumo wrestler. Don't you think, Seiito-kun?" He paused, letting the words sink in, marinate in the air like a toxic fume.
"Not to mention how half-assed you'll do to protect our country." Kōji's grin darkened, his words cutting deeper with each syllable. "You'll die a meaningless death, Seiito. Like your daddy did."
Seiito felt his whole body lock up, the words hitting harder than any punch. His shoulders stiffened, and his gaze dropped, hovering somewhere around Kōji's shoes.
A slow, sumo wrestler… my father…
The insults echoed in his head, loud enough to drown out the classroom noise. His fists clenched at his sides, fingers digging into his palms hard enough to hurt, but he barely felt it.
He forced out a laugh—a strangled, bitter sound that came out too high-pitched, too obviously fake.
"Yeah… Maybe," he muttered, trying to shrug it off, his voice just loud enough to be heard.
But inside, it was like something had cracked, splintered into sharp pieces that jabbed at the insecurities he'd been trying so hard to hide.
He swallowed, feeling the heat creep up his neck, flushing his cheeks. His heart pounded faster, his breaths coming shallow and sharp as he pressed his lips together, holding back words he knew would only make things worse.
Part of him wanted to snap, to shout back that he'd train harder, that he'd get there no matter what they thought. But his voice felt trapped in his throat, thick and heavy, refusing to come out.
Kōji was still grinning, amused by his own cleverness, and Seiito's jaw tightened, the shame mixing with something hotter, angrier. He finally forced himself to look up, meeting Kōji's gaze with eyes narrowed, an almost defiant glint in them despite the blush of humiliation coloring his cheeks.
But the longer he held the stare, the more he felt that defiance waver, slipping under the weight of Koji's mocking smirk.
"What the hell did you say?" Takemi's voice cut through the chatter, low and sharp as a blade, his glare fixed unflinchingly on Kōji, "Take it back, Kōji."
Kōji only laughed, leaning back in his seat with a smirk. "Oh, don't get all worked up, Ta-ke-mi-kun." He stretched each syllable as if savoring Takemi's anger. "Just stating the facts, right? Or are you saying I'm wrong?"
Takemi's glare held steady, but his words faltered, falling into a silence heavy with unspoken frustration. Despite his best attempts, nothing came to mind that could cut through Kōji's cruel mockery, and Seiito could see it—the way Takemi's jaw tightened as he struggled to find a response.
Seiito felt something cold twist in his chest. A part of him wished Takemi would say something, anything, to put Kōji in his place. But deep down, he knew it wouldn't matter.
No words could change how they saw him. How hopeless was he, that even someone as confident as Takemi couldn't find anything to defend Seiito with?
He swallowed hard, feeling the familiar weight settle over him like he was sinking deeper into a shadow he couldn't escape.
The whole class knew he was overweight, sure, but the way they looked at him made it seem so much worse. Like he was less than human, just because he didn't fit their perfect mold. It wasn't like his face was hideous, and his features were even decent—his hair had the luster of raw copper, and his eyes, gleaming brown like polished bronzite, had a quiet warmth to them.
But no one noticed that.
To them, he was a "fat person," and that alone was enough. No matter how hard he tried, how many times he laughed along or ignored their jabs, he was always at the bottom of their invisible hierarchy. A shadow they could mock and discard without a second thought.
Seiito clenched his fists beneath his desk, nails digging into his palms as he forced himself to look away from Takemi and Kōji. He felt the weight of his classmates' judgment pressing down on him, a silent condemnation that filled every corner of the room. He kept his head low, hiding the resentment simmering just below the surface. He'd never admit it out loud, but somewhere, he wished he had the courage to throw their words back at them.
But he didn't.
So, he sat there, taking the blows in silence, hoping they would pass quickly, knowing they would never stop.
Except…
"Seiito-kun~" A syrupy voice called out from across the classroom, making Seiito flinch. It was none other than the school's idol, Uchino Saka. With her blonde hair like the morning sun, yellow citrine eyes, and a smile as bright as daylight, she was the embodiment of cheerfulness and kindness. Everyone loved her, and Seiito was no exception.
But her kindness towards him was one of the reasons he was often mocked.
How can an angel care for such a pig?
There's no way she cares for that fatso!
It should've been me! Not him!!
Seiito wanted to express the pain Saka's attention caused him, but he knew it would be like spitting in the face of an angel. He didn't have the guts to do it and knew it would only worsen his situation. The whole class might as well crucify him for even thinking about it.
"S-Saka-san… good morning." Seiito forced himself to smile, hiding his inner turmoil behind a facade of friendliness.
Saka glided over to him, her every movement graceful, like an angel descending from the heavens. Seiito couldn't help but be mesmerized by her beauty, even as he cursed his luck for being the object of her kindness.
"Tch… you're too kind for your own good. Saka, he's hopeless. No point in coddling him." Takemi clicked his tongue and shot a disapproving glance at Seiito but his eyes held a gentle light, one of concern with frustration.
You can be better than all of us...if you would try a bit...
Seiito didn't know how to interpret Takemi's words. Was he berating him or actually showing concern? They used to be good friends, but as time passed, their friendship had eroded, their ideals clashing more and more.
Despite everything, Seiito knew that deep down, Takemi still cared… at least a little.
"What's so wrong with being kind to others?" Saka smiled brightly.
Takemi hesitated, clearly at a loss for words since it was a good point. He didn't want to make things worse, so he just sighed and took a seat next to Seiito.
"Everyone has their strengths and weaknesses. Seiito-kun has strengths too!" Saka insisted with a pout.
Seiito's heart fluttered at her words. Her angelic protection always soothed his wounded soul, but it also made him feel even more pathetic.
"Yeah? What are his strengths then?" Takemi retorted, his tone uninterested and bored.
"He's too kind," Saka responded without missing a beat.
"Huh?" Takemi looked irritated.
"We could be the top classroom in the school, but Seiito drags us down!" Takemi's voice grew angry as he continued, "If he was kind, he wouldn't arrive late or be mediocre with his grades. If only he would try a bit."
The words hit Seiito like a punch to the gut. He slumped his shoulders in defeat.
Maybe Takemi didn't care after all…
Takemi was right, though. Seiito barely passed his classes. If he were performing at the same level as everyone else, their class would be the top in the school. Even Kōji and his cronies, who tormented Seiito daily, were doing well academically, just to make Seiito look bad.
Kōji grinned as he noticed Seiito's expression, savoring the moment. It seemed Takemi's words had struck a nerve, and Kōji mentally noted it. Seiito had an inferiority complex, and Kōji planned to exploit it for his own amusement.
Seiito's face darkened as memories he had tried to bury deep within him began to resurface. The voices of his parents echoed in his mind, reminding him of every time they had called him useless, mediocre, and a disappointment. He clutched his head, fighting back tears that threatened to spill over. He didn't want to give his tormentors the satisfaction of seeing him cry.
"S-Seiito-kun? Are you okay?" Saka's concerned voice broke through his spiraling thoughts.
Seiito forced a smile, though it felt hollow. "I'm okay. It's just my allergies…"
But Saka didn't buy it. She had seen this expression on herself before—the look of someone who was deeply hurt but trying to hide it.
Her eyes narrowed slightly in anger, and she shot a quick glare at Takemi, who seemed oblivious to the impact his words had had on Seiito.
As class began, Seiito sat stiffly at his desk, his mind drifting far from the lesson. By the time the bell rang for lunch, he was more than ready to escape. He stood and headed straight for the door, desperate for some air and solitude.
But as he approached the door, a strange sensation prickled over his skin. The room seemed to hold its breath as he reached out—and then bam! His face smashed into something hard and unseen, sending him stumbling back in shock, clutching his throbbing nose.
"What the—?"
Laughter erupted around him, echoing through the classroom, but this time, something felt off. Saka, Takemi, and even Kōji, who usually led the charge against Seiito, didn't laugh. They, too, had noticed the strange occurrence.
Ryūju snickered from his seat, elbowing Kōji. "Did you see that? The fatso hit something invisible!"
But Kōji's expression was troubled. He squinted, leaning closer to the door. "Y-yeah... I saw it," he muttered, uneasily.
Kōji rose from his seat, pushing past his lackeys, and reached out cautiously toward the door. His fingers brushed something solid—an invisible wall. He pressed harder, only to feel resistance, as if an unseen force were trapping them.
"What the hell is going on?" Kōji's voice quivered, abandoning his usual mockery for genuine fear. The sneer had melted from his face, leaving only bewilderment and dread.
Seiito's heart pounded. His mind spun as he traced the outline of the invisible barrier, finding faint, eerie runes glowing on its surface. A feeling of cold dread crept over him; something powerful had ensnared them.
Saka, her usual composure shattered, approached the door, her fingertips trembling as she ran them over the barrier. It was as if she was touching ethereal glass, a thick yet static glass, it tickled her hand.
She froze, turning back to the others, wide-eyed with alarm. For the first time, Seiito saw fear in her gaze.
"What…what is this?" she whispered, her voice barely above a breath.
A suffocating silence gripped the room; the laughter evaporated, leaving only their mounting terror.
Takemi's instincts were flaring in high alert; he turned to them and snapped at them, "Everyone, get away from the door!"
Before anyone could react, a blinding white light flared from the barrier, filling the room with an unnatural brilliance. Many more white doors began to appear around the classroom, surrounding them all.
The students shrieked, shielding their eyes, their confusion shifting rapidly into panic as the light grew unbearable, searing their vision.
Seiito shut his eyes, feeling the burn of the light even through his closed lids. A strange, weightless sensation washed over him as the ground seemed to disappear beneath his feet. The noise of his classmates faded, leaving him in absolute silence and utter darkness.
In that instant, Seiito was alone, suspended in a void of nothingness as his consciousness flickered.
And then—total darkness claimed him.