Chapter 5: Quiet Battles

The morning light was pale, filtered through thick clouds heavy with rain yet to fall. The school corridor buzzed with voices, but every whisper seemed to trail behind him like a shadow. He felt their eyes, sharp and cold, carving invisible wounds into his skin.

Aki arrived early, taking her seat beside him as usual. Her presence was the only thing grounding him in this storm of silence and stares. But even her quiet companionship couldn’t drown out the buzzing conversations around them.

As he opened his notebook, a sharp shove knocked into his side. He stumbled, heart pounding.

“Watch it, _,” a voice sneered from behind.

He kept his eyes on the page, pretending not to notice.

“Why do you even bother coming to school?” another voice muttered. “No one wants you here.”

Aki glanced at him, her lips pressed tightly together.

During homeroom, his name was called for attendance. A few students snickered when the teacher paused to wait for a response.

He raised his hand weakly, avoiding everyone’s gaze.

Later, in math class, someone flicked an eraser off a desk. It hit his shoulder with a dull thud.

“Oops. Sorry, loser,” a boy whispered nearby, grinning cruelly.

He didn’t flinch.

Lunch was worse.

He found his usual spot near the window, where Aki was already waiting, her bento neatly placed on the desk.

Before he could sit, a girl snatched his tray.

“Eat this yourself, freak,” she said, dumping his food on the floor. The rice scattered, mingling with crumbs and dirt.

He froze.

The cafeteria noise seemed to fade away, leaving only the harsh pounding of his heart.

He looked up at Aki, who stood silently, eyes wide but unreadable.

Without a word, she slipped off her chair and gathered a few pieces of rice from the floor, placing them back on his plate.

He shook his head, wanting to refuse, but her gaze was steady, unwavering.

He ate in silence, every bite heavy with shame.

After school, as they walked home together beneath the dripping leaves, a group of boys blocked their path.

“Hey, Aki,” one said with a sneer, “Why are you hanging out with him? You want to get dirty?”

The tallest boy stepped forward, cracking his knuckles.

He tightened his grip on Aki’s hand.

“Leave us alone,” she said, voice trembling but firm.

The boy laughed.

One of them kicked a small stone at his feet.

“Loser.”

His breath caught, chest tightening.

Aki tugged his hand. “Come on.”

They hurried away, heartbeats echoing in their ears.

At home, the silence was heavier than any insult.

His parents didn’t ask about the bruises on his arms or the dark circles under his eyes.

When he tried to speak, their eyes flicked away.

“Maybe you’re making it worse,” his father said once, voice cold.

He retreated into himself, swallowing pain that had no outlet.

That night, he lay awake, staring at the ceiling, counting the cracks in the plaster.

Aki’s message buzzed on his phone:

“Good night, _.”

The small words were like a fragile flame in the dark.

He wanted to believe things would get better.

But deep inside, the knot of despair tightened.

The quiet battles continued.

And he didn’t know how much longer he could hold on.