No Place to Belong

I love weekends. It’s when I get to hang out with friends, binge-watch Netflix, maybe go on a date, or just enjoy quality time with my family.

…Or at least, that’s what normal people do.

Me? I do watch a movie once a week. And I do go out sometimes. Just… with me, myself, and I. A solid trio.

The last period on a Friday feels like an eternity, especially with Sayuri-sensei droning on about Intermolecular Forces like she’s narrating an epic saga. I’d probably pay more attention if I could use those forces to bond with Kisaragi-chan instead.

She’s what the poets of the Edo period would have called a goddess of beauty. I have absolutely zero chance with her, but admiring from a distance? That’s a noble tradition, right?

Rumor has it Kamizono-kun—our class’s golden boy, baseball prodigy, and overall superhuman—is dating her. Not surprising. A girl like her would obviously go for someone on her level.

As for me? Realistically, my only chances lie with Ritsuko-chan or Hanami-chan—and even that’s a long shot.

Ritsuko-chan is… unique. She’s got the kind of thick glasses that make her eyes look five times bigger, and her bangs are so uneven it’s like she cut them using a ruler and blind faith..

Then there’s Hanami-chan, a girl whose love for anime and otome games outweighs any concern for personal appearance. She always smells faintly of instant ramen and wears those oversized sweaters that make her look like she’s trying to hide from the world. Her social skills? Let’s just say making eye contact with her feels like a psychological battle she refuses to engage in.

But even that possibility feels like a coin toss… one that keeps landing on its edge.

Sayuri-sensei finally concludes that Intermolecular Forces are meant for atoms and molecules, not desperate high school boys—tragic, really. She then shoots me one of her signature annoyed glances, as if I was the one disrupting her lecture. Not the two buffoons behind me who spent the entire period reenacting a sumo match with their chairs. The bell rings. I grab my already-packed bag and stand up. School life hasn’t exactly been easy—or ideal. The staff tends to sympathize with me since I’m an orphan, a kid who managed to escape the system thanks to my exceptional grades. But sympathy doesn’t change much.

As I walk down the hall to my locker, Kamizono-kun and his so-called gang approach me.

“Yo, Shin-dono,” he says, stretching out the honorific like he’s being generous. “We’re training for our upcoming match against the Crusaders. Think you could join us? We’re short on numbers.”

I blink. Me? In a sports practice? “I’m not good at sports, Kamizono-kun. You’ll have to find someone else,” I reply.

“Don’t worry,” he grins. “We’ve got the perfect role for you.”

“Yeah, you’ll love it,” one of his friends adds, his smirk saying otherwise.

I hesitate. I don’t have anything better to do, and Kamizono-kun has always been oddly decent to me—out of pity, maybe. Still, pity feels better than being ignored.

“…Alright. I’ll join you at the field later,” I say.

Kamizono-kun taps my shoulder, flashing his usual approval smile before walking off—straight to Kisaragi-chan.

She glances my way and waves. I return the gesture, though I’m not sure if it means anything.

I reach my locker, swap out my shoes, and step outside.

I live in the school’s dorm, as I was bought here by an orphanage. The dorm is usually full of kids like me who can’t afford high end accommodations or some kids who came here to study in this one hell of a prestigious school, My ass. It’s not like I am ungrateful or something, this is much better than the hell I was enduring in orphanage, but I can’t say that my life here is peaceful and all that, but I have become used to It so it doesn’t feel like much of a deal.

I enter my room, which I share with two other guys—Itsuki-kun and Ike. Ike is like me, a classic nerd, except he actually excels in his grades and performance, while I don’t. I wasn’t always like this. I used to be at the top of the class. But lately, I just don’t feel like studying. Something keeps disturbing me—an unseen force, one might say. Not in a horror-movie kind of way, but more like a constant feeling that there’s something bigger waiting for me beyond this life. At least, I hope so. Because if there isn’t, I might as well let go of this one too.

Itsuki, on the other hand, is the son of a wealthy businessman from Kyoto. Despite his background, he doesn’t give off that typical rich-kid vibe. His father has visited many times, and I’ve met him on each occasion. Without fail, he always says the same thing:

'You are his big brother. I’m leaving him in your care.'

I’m only a few months older than Itsuki, but still, I like Nanami-san. He’s an old-fashioned man—and honestly, pretty funny.

I toss my bag onto the table and head to the bathroom to freshen up. As I turn on the sink’s tap, my reflection stares back at me from the white-stained mirror. Sometimes, I wonder—am I the ugly one, or is it just the mirror? But let’s be real… it’s me.

"After freshening up, I leave the dorm and head to the school field. I’ve never been the athletic type, but I do remember playing football back at the orphanage with a kid whose entire existence revolved around going pro. And honestly, it seemed possible—though maybe that’s just my perspective, considering I’m absolute garbage at the game."

"I reach the field and spot Kamizono-kun and his team already scattered across it. The pitcher winds up, throwing the ball, and Kamizono-kun swings—clean, precise, effortless. For a moment, I get caught up in admiring the shot… until I realize the ball is headed straight for me.

At the last second, I manage to dodge. Catching it? Yeah, not happening—not with the skills (or lack thereof) I have right now."

"Hey, Shin! You finally made it—come on in!" Kamizono-kun calls from the pitch.

I step onto the field and notice Sae-chan sitting on the benches alongside another girl. No wonder the guys are so fired up today. Guess having an audience does that.

Maybe if I had a girl watching me, I’d have turned into Takuya Kei and actually caught that ball earlier.

Kamizono-kun tells me I’ll be the ball boy—not that I expected anything else. Any other role would’ve been too much for me anyway. I take my position, and the training begins. Kamizono-kun keeps hitting long shots, and I admire them—at least when they’re not flying straight at me. The fielders are quick and precise, effortlessly catching the balls, while in my case, they either soar over my head or bounce just out of reach. I try catching one or two, but all I get for my efforts is a bruised pinky.

Kamizono-kun called for a break, and everyone gathered around the stands where the girls were sitting. I would have joined in more eagerly if their eyes held less disgust when they looked at me. Not that it mattered—Sae-chan, for one, probably didn’t even know I existed half the time. I joined the group anyway, listening as they exchanged compliments and gave each other pointers on what to improve. As for me… well, let’s just say my "area of improvement" was somewhere in the fourth dimension.

“Shin-dono, you’ve got to try harder than that. You were slowing us down,” Kamizono-kun said.

“I told you, I’m not good at sports,” I replied.

“We were just worried that if the ball actually hit you, we’d have to call an ambulance,” one of them joked. The group burst into laughter. I failed to see what was so funny about that lame remark.

“Well, I’ve played enough for today. I’m out of stamina, so I’ll take my leave,” I said, hoping to escape before more jokes were thrown my way.

“Oh, come on! We’ll switch your role. How about that?” one of the guys suggested.

“It’s not about the role. I just don’t have the stamina you guys do,” I replied.

“That’s exactly why you need to keep playing—to build some,” he shot back.

I realized that if I kept refusing, things would only get worse for me. With a sigh, I gave in.

“You’ll be the pitcher now,” he announced.

I was shocked, but I took the ball and walked over to the pitch. The batter stood ready, gripping his bat like he was facing a real pitcher. As if. Still, I spun my arms a little, pretending to warm up. He gave me the ready sign. I inhaled, copying the stance and style of the pros, then threw the ball with everything I had.

Crack!

The ball met the bat perfectly and came rocketing straight back at me.

Thud!

Pain exploded across my face.

Next thing I knew, my lower lip was split open. I pulled my hand away from my mouth, only to find it covered in blood. The taste of iron spread over my tongue. The sharp sting pulsed through my jaw, mixing with the sensation of warm liquid dripping down my chin.

And over it all—laughter.

A chorus of amused voices rang out, blending with the distant sounds of the field. The scene was almost surreal—the golden hue of the setting sun, the rhythmic crunch of cleats on dirt, the casual chatter of teammates—while I stood there, bloodied, ignored, and humiliated. I glanced around, hoping—just maybe—someone would come over to check on me. But deep down, I already knew the answer. No one would.

I turned to Kamizono-kun. A small part of me hoped he’d at least offer a hand, a word—something. But he was laughing too.

Suddenly, out of the corner of my eye, I saw someone rushing toward me. A blur of movement, a flash of white cloth in her hands. Before I could fully register what was happening, the stinging pain in my lip became too much—I stumbled back and dropped to the ground, sitting there dazed. She knelt beside me, pressing the soft fabric against my lips to stop the bleeding. The scent of faint perfume mixed with the iron of my own blood. I blinked, trying to focus through the pain.

It was Sae-chan.

Her brows were knitted with worry, her usual distant gaze replaced by something I never expected—genuine concern.

"Oh no, you're bleeding a lot," she said, her voice soft yet urgent. "Let's get you to the doctor."

Sae-chan’s face twisted with frustration as she turned to Kamizono-kun, who was still grinning, exchanging high-fives with his friends over the so-called joke they had pulled.

"Don't you have any shame?" she snapped, her voice cutting through the laughter. "Your classmate is seriously injured and bleeding, and you think this is funny?"

Kamizono-kun barely spared me a glance before chuckling. "Oh, come on, it’s just a scratch. Guys like us don’t make a fuss over stuff like this. He’s just acting up to get your attention."

Acting?

For a second, the pain in my lip faded, replaced by a sinking weight in my chest. Sure, I might be weak. And yeah, maybe I was desperate for even a shred of Sae-chan’s attention. I could admit that. But faking an injury just to make her notice me? That was beyond humiliating. Even if I somehow did manage to get her attention this way—then what? How the hell would I ever face her, knowing it came from pity? I'd rather stay invisible forever than earn her gaze through disgrace.

Sae-chan’s voice cut through the laughter like a blade.

"Look at him! He’s bleeding so much—how is that a minor injury?" she snapped, eyes blazing. "I actually thought you were different from these idiots, Kamizono-kun. But now I see the truth—you’re not just one of them. You’re their leader."

The laughter died instantly. Kamizono-kun’s smirk wavered, his raised hand lowering mid-high-five.

"We’re done," Sae-chan said, her voice unwavering. "I can’t be with someone who thinks humiliating others is funny."

For a fleeting moment, I felt a strange sense of satisfaction. But the sharp sting in my lip quickly pulled me back. Sae-chan turned to me, her expression softening as she reached for my arm.

"Come on. I’m taking you to the medical room," she said, her touch firm but gentle.

I pressed the cloth against my lip, my bloodied hand trembling slightly.

As we walked, I glanced back. Kamizono-kun was still glaring at me. I knew this wasn’t over—this would only make things worse.

Sae-chan walked ahead, her white coat draping over her uniform skirt, standing out against the warm hues of the golden hour. She didn’t say much, just kept moving forward.

"You didn’t have to break up with Kamizono-kun because of me," I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper. "They were right… I’m just weak and miserable."

"Be quiet," she said, not looking back. "Talking will only make it hurt more."

I shut my mouth and followed in silence.

When we reached the medical room, I stepped inside and immediately spotted Doctor Tsukihiro. Calm, composed, and always straight to the point. He wasn’t exactly rude, but he had a way of making you feel like you were wasting his time. I was well acquainted with him—not by choice, but by necessity. I’d been here more times than I’d ever been to a party.

Once, after I was beaten up by a few seniors for no real reason, I ended up here with a swollen eye and a busted lip. Dr, Tsukihiro barely looked up from his clipboard before sighing, "Ah, you again. What is it this time? Did you walk into a door, or did someone finally take offense to your existence?" Now, as I stood before him again, his left brow arched so high it looked like it might permanently shift his facial symmetry.

Dr. Tsukihiro let out a small sigh and gestured for me to sit on the examination bed. I obeyed, feeling the sting of my split lip intensify as I moved. Sae-chan stayed close, arms crossed, watching intently. The doctor grabbed a pair of gloves, snapped them on with practiced ease, and took a closer look at my injury. His fingers tilted my chin up, and he inspected the cut with the same level of concern one might have for a paper jam in a printer. “Split lip. Swollen,” he muttered. “Bleeding’s slowed, but you managed to make quite the mess.” I avoided his eyes, staring at the white tiles on the floor instead. “This is nothing new for you, is it?” He dabbed an antiseptic-soaked cotton pad on my lip. A sharp sting shot through me, making me wince. “Tch. Hold still,” he said, though his voice lacked any real irritation. “This’ll disinfect it.” I clenched my fists as he continued cleaning the wound, dabbing away the dried blood. The strong smell of antiseptic filled my nose, almost making me lightheaded. Sae-chan stepped forward slightly. “Will he need stitches?” she asked. Dr. Tsukihiro shook his head. “No. The cut isn’t deep enough. I’ll apply some ointment and put a strip over it. He just needs to be careful not to move his mouth too much.” He glanced at me. “Which might be a challenge, given your knack for getting into trouble.” I exhaled quietly as he applied the ointment, the cool sensation easing some of the burning pain. He then grabbed a sterile adhesive strip and carefully placed it over the wound to keep it closed. “There. Try not to mess with it. Avoid hot or spicy food for a while, and don’t go picking fights you can’t win.”

I scoffed internally at his words. Not like I ever picked a fight—fights always seemed to pick me. Dr. Tsukihiro peeled off his gloves and tossed them into the bin before scribbling something on a notepad. “If the swelling gets worse or it starts bleeding again, come back. Otherwise, you’ll live.” He handed me a small pack of antiseptic wipes and a tube of ointment. “Apply this before bed and in the morning.”

I nodded, tucking the items into my pocket.

Sae-chan sighed in relief. “Thank you, Doctor.”

He gave her a short nod, then turned his eyes back to me. “You should rest for a bit before heading back. You look like you’ve been through a shredder.”

I let out a dry chuckle, though it hurt to even smile. “Feels like it too.”

Sae-chan helped me off the bed, her touch light but firm on my arm. She still looked a little annoyed, but there was concern behind her eyes.

“Come on,” she said. “I’ll walk you back.”

I glanced toward the door, half-expecting Kamizono-kun and his group to be lurking outside, waiting to make things worse. But the hallway was empty.

Sae-chan and I walked in silence, the sun dipping lower, casting long shadows across the pavement. The cool evening air stung against my injured lip, but I kept my head down, focused on the sound of our footsteps.

She walked slightly ahead, her arms crossed, the white coat draped over her shoulders fluttering with each step. I felt like I should say something, but every time I opened my mouth, the sting reminded me to shut up.

After a while, she finally spoke. “You should stop letting them treat you like that.”

I let out a dry chuckle. “Easier said than done.”

She stopped and turned to face me, eyes sharp. “Then do something about it.”

I met her gaze but found no words to argue back. She sighed, shaking her head before continuing forward.

As we reached the dormitory, she paused at the entrance. “Take care of your lip. And… don’t be stupid next time.”

I smirked—well, tried to. “No promises.”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t hide the small smile tugging at her lips before turning away, leaving me standing there with a strange warmth lingering in my chest.

watched her disappear around the corner of the dorm, the warmth of her presence lingering in my chest.

With a deep breath, I turned back to my door, noticing it was slightly ajar. Ike and Itsuki must be back. I stepped inside, ready to tell them about what had just happened with Kisaragi-chan.

The room was dark. Strange.

I flicked on the light—

And froze.

Kamizono-kun sat on my desk, legs crossed, his usual smirk absent. Around him, his gang lounged in the shadows. Before I could react, a sharp shove from behind sent me stumbling forward. The door slammed shut.

It was happening.

I swallowed hard. I had expected this... but not so soon.

“Hey, Kamizono-kun,” I forced a smile, trying to keep my voice steady. “What are you doing here? I thought only Ike, Itsuki, and I had the keys.”

Kamizono leaned back, casual. Too casual. “Oh, they gave me a copy.”

One of his lackeys chuckled. “Yeah, we convinced them we were planning a little surprise for you. You know—for all your ‘hard work’ today at training.”

“Oh… I see.” My throat tightened.

A sudden kick to the back of my knee.

Pain shot up my leg as I collapsed, kneeling on the cold floor.

Kamizono-kun stood over me, his voice dripping with irritation. “You really humiliated me today, you know that? In front of Kisaragi, no less.” His fingers tangled into my hair, yanking my head up to meet his glare.

“I—I swear, I didn’t—she came to help on her own, I didn’t—”

A fist smashed into my nose.

A sharp crack. Warm blood trickled down my lips. I crumpled backward, hands clutching my face. My vision blurred.

“Please, Kamizono-kun,” I gasped, my voice shaking. “I never meant to—”

Another hit.

Then another.

It wasn’t stopping.

The next punch slammed into my gut. Pain exploded through my body like wildfire, knocking the breath from my lungs. My mouth opened, but no sound came out—just a desperate wheeze, a strangled attempt to inhale air that refused to come.

I doubled over, gasping. Please, no, not again. Not like this.

Another blow—a sharp kick to my ribs. The impact sent me sprawling onto the cold floor, my arms trembling as I tried to push myself up. But I was too weak. My body had never been strong, never been fast, never been anything except a punching bag for others. Why is it always me?

Laughter filled the room—sharp, cruel, suffocating.

“Look at this loser,” one of them sneered. “Squealing like a dying rat.”

I couldn’t stop the sound that escaped my throat—a pathetic, broken cry.

I reached out weakly, not to fight back, not to resist, but to beg. My fingers brushed against Kamizono’s pant leg, grasping onto it like it was my last hope. “P-please…” My voice cracked, barely a whisper.

A boot slammed against my chest.

I screamed. I actually screamed. The pain seared through me, ribs groaning under the pressure.

Tears welled up in my eyes.

“Please, stop… I’m sorry… I-I didn’t do anything…”

Why?

Why does it always have to be me?

Why am I always the one left bleeding on the ground while everyone else gets to stand?

I was pathetic. I knew that. I had always known that. No strength. No presence. No place in this world.

“You’re disgusting,” Kamizono hissed, gripping my hair and yanking my head up. “You make me sick.”

Another fist crashed into my face—pain exploded through my skull. I felt something warm drip down my chin. Blood.

I don’t want this. I don’t want this. I don’t want this.

Another kick.

I can’t breathe.

Another punch.

My vision is spinning.

Another.

Please, someone—anyone.

I choked on a sob, the taste of iron thick in my mouth. My body wouldn’t move anymore. My arms wouldn’t even lift to shield myself.

Is this how I die?

Alone, helpless, humiliated?

The edges of my vision darkened. I couldn’t even cry out anymore.

A dull buzzing sound filled my ears.

Something… Something was watching.

I wasn’t alone in this suffocating darkness.

And then, through the pain, through the tears and the blood, I felt it.

My limbs twitched weakly, but they refused to move. The cold floor pressed against my cheek, slick with my own blood. Everything hurt. Everything burned.

Kamizono-kun said something, but his voice was distant—warped, like it was coming from underwater. Their laughter, their taunts… they all started to fade into the background.

I couldn't feel my fingers anymore.

The room blurred, the figures above me twisting into unrecognizable shadows. My vision pulsed, shrinking.

Darkness crawled in from the edges, swallowing the light.

I tried to blink, but my eyelids were too heavy. My body didn’t belong to me anymore.

I couldn’t move. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t beg. And then—everything went black.

Suddenly, something darker than the darkness surrounding me appeared.