Me? Selfish.
The word echoed in my head like a damn curse. My sister's voice, sharp and accusing, just kept replaying. Over and over. Like some broken record that wouldn't shut up.
Selfish?
She had no idea. No clue what I've done, what I've given up, for my people. For her. For everyone who never even bothered to ask how I was holding up. Sacrifice doesn't come with applause. It comes with silence. Loneliness. Regret. You do what you have to, and you learn to live with the weight.
But selfish? That was the last thing I'd call myself.
"Takumi."
Barely registered. The voice was distant. I was too deep in it, spiraling. My hand tightened around the spork without me realizing. I could feel the plastic bending, warping under the pressure.
How could she possibly understand? She grew up wrapped in warmth. Two loving parents, a stable home, a life protected from the ugliness of the world. She didn't know what it was like to choose between bad and worse, to fight like hell just to exist. She never had to become someone she didn't recognize just to survive.
"Takumi."
Something bumped my tray. A sharp jolt. I snapped back to reality. Oshida was watching me, brow creased, concern written all over his face.
"You good, man?"
I blinked, noticing my food was untouched. Osamu sat across from me, mid-chew, eyeing me with that usual quiet curiosity. The cafeteria buzzed all around us, students laughing, trays clattering. but it all felt like static. Distant. Muffled.
"Yeah. Just... nothing," I muttered, voice flat.
I looked down. My spork had practically mashed the rice into paste. I let out a breath and loosened my grip, flexing my fingers like I needed to remind myself they were still mine.
"So, how was your suspension?" Osamu asked, swallowing.
Exhausting.
"Fine," I said. No room for elaboration. I forced myself to eat. The texture of the food didn't matter. I just needed the motion, something to keep me grounded.
But the second I let my guard down, it all came rushing back again. That damn conversation. Her voice. That moment. It just kept showing up, when I was working out, lying awake at night, and now, in the middle of a cafeteria I didn't even want to be in.
I don't even know why it bothers me this much. I hate that it does.
I focused on chewing, willing the thoughts to shut up.
"Oshida, color me surprised when I come back and don't see you in any of my classes."
The voice dragged my eyes up. Burgundy hair, smug posture, Eida. He leaned on Oshida's shoulder like he owned him, and I watched as Oshida's smile crumbled into pieces. His whole body went stiff, like every muscle suddenly forgot how to relax.
"E-Eida..." Oshida stammered.
The sweat on his forehead, the way his hands clenched together. he was a shaking bundle of nerves. Eida hadn't even done anything yet. Just stood there, smiling that slimy grin that made your skin crawl. His hand stayed on Oshida's shoulder as he turned those icy, calculating eyes toward me.
That was his thing. The stare. The slow, surgical dismantling of your confidence.
A warm breath on the back of my neck. Humid. Too close.
"Ah, Kage," Bito said behind me. His voice oily, like he thought this was all some fun little game.
I sighed. Of course. Of course! It's 11:50 in the goddamn morning and they're already starting shit. They must be bored out of their minds.
"Bito, you caught up. Where's Shihara?" Eida asked.
"Still grabbing his food. But while we wait..." Bito grinned. "Why don't we sit and catch up?"
"You wouldn't mind that, Ta-ku-mi?" he dragged out my name, each syllable steeped in mockery.
Didn't even wait for my response. They slid into the seats like they owned the place. Eida next to Oshida. Bito on my left. Like they were settling in for a show.
Osamu pushed up his glasses, his voice calm but pointed. "What is the meaning of this? Why cause more trouble, they separate you for a reason."
That pissed them off.
"Four-eyes, you've gotten bold," Eida sneered. "Maybe we need a new errand boy."
"Yeah," Shihara said as he approached with a tray. "One for each of us. I call four-eyes."
This is so fucking dumb.
I didn't say a word. Didn't flinch. My face stayed neutral, just like it always did. I shoveled the last of my food into my mouth, stood up, and felt the weight of every pair of eyes in the group lock on me.
Bito was the first to open his mouth. "Got something you wanna say?"
I didn't answer. Just turned and walked away.
"You're just gonna abandon your friends?" Shihara called after me. "Sounds cowardly to me."
I stopped.
Turned my head, just enough to meet his eyes.
"My bad," I said. Voice low. Steady. "I don't have any friends."
And I left.
The cafeteria doors clicked shut behind me, but I still felt the noise crawling on my skin. I walked the hall slowly, each step echoing off the lockers. Empty. Quiet. My kind of peace. But even that couldn't keep the storm in my head at bay.
My thoughts... they were back.
What's the point?
Every now and then, that question creeps back into my mind.
It lingers in the quiet, slipping in when my will is nothing but the ember of a dying flame. When the justification to live feels harder than the toughest diamond, when existence itself feels like a weight I wasn't built to carry, I ask myself.
Why?
Why fight? Why struggle? Why survive? Why eat? Why cry?
Why live?
I stop.
Somewhere along the way, my body moved on its own, and now I find myself standing at a dead end. I lift my eyes from the floor for the first time since leaving the cafeteria and see a vending machine in front of me.
I stare, not at the snacks, but at the reflection staring back through the plastic glass.
Me.
Or at least, the person I've become.
For the first time in a while, I really take in the differences. The pale white skin that has replaced the deep, rich brown I once knew. The sharp contrast unsettles me, even now. My buzzed black hair is gone, replaced by straight strands of ashy blonde, longer than they should be. My body no longer scrawny, no longer frail but built from something more than just growth.
Sweat. Blood. Discipline. A body forged through necessity, not choice.
My fingers twitch slightly as I reach out, barely grazing the glass, tracing the outline of what I used to be.
And then my eyes settle on my face.
It should be different. It should feel different.
But it doesn't.
Yeah, my eyes aren't as lifeless as before. There's something else there now. Exhaustion, maybe. A quiet weight pressing down on me, heavier with every passing day.
But deep down, beneath the tiredness, beneath the changes, they still hold the same story.
Hopelessness.
ERRKKK!
The grating sound of rusted hinges pulled my attention. My head snapped up, scanning the area. Judging by the echo, the source had to be nearby, just around the corner to my left, up those stairs.
I'd never been to this side of the school before.
Curiosity tugged at me, and without much thought, I started moving. My steps were steady, careful, the metal stairs creaking under my weight. As I neared the top, light spilled through the crack of an open door, and a faint cough broke the silence.
I hesitated, then peeked inside.
The door led outside.
A rush of sunlight forced me to lift my arm, shielding my eyes. The heat hit me instantly, not the suffocating kind, but the kind that made the air feel thick and slow. Early summer. I could tell from the way warmth settled into my skin rather than burning it outright. The chirping of cicadas filled the air, their endless song blending with the distant hum of life beyond the school walls.
Then, something else caught my eye.
A thin, curling trail of smoke.
I stepped out, moving away from the doorway to follow its source.
There leaning against the metal railing was Mr. Kobonai.
A cigarette dangled from his lips, a soft ember glowing at the tip. He took a long drag, inhaling deeply, before exhaling with a sigh that seemed more like a release than a habit. A single strand of gray hair fluttered against the wind, defying the otherwise slicked-back style he usually kept. His glasses, pushed up onto his forehead, reflected the sky above.
But what really caught my attention were his arms.
I'd never seen him with his sleeves rolled up before. Tattoos marked his skin, swirling, intricate designs of koi fish swimming along his forearms. The ink was bold yet elegant, the kind that wasn't just decoration but meant something.
His head tilted slightly, like he had just noticed me. His sharp eyes locked onto mine, surprise flickering in them for only a second before something unreadable settled in.
Then, with a small, sheepish smile, he rubbed the back of his head.
"Takumi, hey. How're you holding up?"
His voice was casual, if not a little sheepish.
I wasn't sure if I had an answer.
"Fine" I whispered. It felt like my words were a pebble thrown into a endless pit in which I will never get the satisfaction of hearing it make contact with the earth, just hollow. Mr.Kobonai turned facing the railing taking another drag of his cig not bothering to a acknowledge my answer. We stared at the view if only for a second.
"Come" he called over. Meeting him at the edge we basked in the sun.
" are you fine Takumi." He asked. Putting the ember of his cigarette into the metal railing. I wanted to say words, something but I didn't even have the energy to lie. My teacher hummed in correspondence to my silence.
"Tell me, Takumi. How does it feel to be back?" he asked.
I paused for a moment, chewing on the weight of the question. Being back.
Back here.
Back alive.
How do I even begin to explain that?
Out of habit, I usually bury those thoughts. I hate how they make me feel, like there's something wrong with me. That kind of confusion… that ache over something that technically doesn't exist anymore, it cuts deeper than any blade.
But this time… I let myself sit with it. Just a little.
Maybe it was the heat in the air, the stillness of the rooftop, or maybe I was just too tired to keep pretending I didn't care.
I thought.
I thought back to that moment, the moment I truly believed it was the end.
I closed my eyes, trying to visualize it clearly. I took a slow breath, letting the fresh air fill my lungs as memories began to resurface.
I remembered the anger. The shame. The desperation.
I remembered how I wasn't really present in that moment. just screaming, shouting until my voice gave out, until my vocal cords were raw and useless.
But when I look back now, when I dig a little deeper... I see it for what it really was.
A distraction.
I was hiding behind the rage. Behind the guilt.
Because underneath all of it.
I was terrified.
Terrified that this was really it.
That everything I had been, everything I could've been… would just end right there.
"Mr. Konobai… if you were to die right now, would you regret your life?"
The question hung in the air, still and heavy. For a moment, he didn't respond, just stared out over the edge of the rooftop as a breeze lifted his graying hair.
He let out a thoughtful hum, arms resting lazily along the metal railing.
"That's a hard one," he finally said. "Harder than it sounds."
He shifted his weight, letting his eyes trace the distant skyline.
"Do I have regrets? Yeah, plenty. But does that mean I regret my entire life?"
He paused, rubbing a hand slowly over the ink on his forearm, tattoos like worn memories stitched into his skin.
"No. Not at all."
"Life's too long to be stuck on what you did wrong. Mistakes... they're part of the deal. Necessary, even. They hurt, sure. but they shape you. Those regrets? They give life its weight. Its meaning. Because it's hard. It's messy. And it forces you to make choices you're not always proud of. But they're your choices. They build who you are."
He looked at me then, with this quiet, almost fatherly smile that somehow felt warmer than the sun beating down on us.
"And if you don't like who you are right now? That's the beauty of still breathing, Takumi. You've got time. Time to change. Time to grow. Just don't waste that time carrying dead weight."
I swallowed, unsure if I believed him. The words sounded good, but they felt too far away.
"But… what if some things can't be fixed?" I asked, my voice lower now, almost hoping he wouldn't answer.
He didn't look at me right away. Instead, he gazed out beyond the school grounds, somewhere far away. A soft sigh escaped him, but not one of surrender. More like he understood too well.
"Aah, Takumi," he said with a dry chuckle. "Take it from an old fool who's made more mistakes than he cares to count, you don't always get to fix things. Some scars stay."
He turned back toward me, his tone gentler than before.
"But you live with them. That's the trick. You carry them, but you don't let them pull you under. You don't let them become you. You learn. You grow. That's what living really is, movement. Change. Not staying frozen in the past."
He gave a small nod, like sealing a promise in the air.
"Don't let your regrets define you, Takumi. You've still got time. So live. Actually live."
And just as he finished, the school bell rang, slicing through the stillness like a cue.
"Oh, look at that. Lunch break's over," he said with a grin, brushing the wrinkles from his shirt. He stepped past me, pausing only to place a hand on my shoulder, firm, grounding.
"Make sure you get to class on time," he added with a nod, then disappeared into the stairwell, the door closing behind him with a soft clunk.
I stood there for a while, staring into the distance,his words still circling in my head like smoke.
"I have Time…" I whispered, a flicker of something warm stirring behind my tired eyes