Chapter 1

Fujio was beat to death. He hadn’t eaten in a week; he couldn’t fight back. He died as a man with nobody, but really, his death began years ago.

CHAPTER 1

Fujio woke up at 7am like usual, rushed his shower and breakfast, and rushed to school on his bike. He hadn’t had time to even put his tie on correctly, and it ended up flying away in the wind on the way there. After a few minutes, the large building of brown brick, perfectly symmetrical, plagued with graffiti that couldn’t be cleaned, showed up in his view. He was immediately punished for losing it when he arrived at school, not by administration, but by the looks of other students. He tried to brush off the stares like how he’d seen many others do in the past, but it still left a hint of guilt inside him.

He sat at his desk with his head down and pulled out a book and pretended to read, but he quietly stole glances at people when they weren’t looking. He was observing the classroom. He had a good idea of the different friend groups, those who were into social media and needed validation, those who knew each other since childhood and had strong bonds, those who were in power because of their outward personalities, those who considered themselves above the others, and so on.

Fujio had always struggled with making friends, he had recently come to the realization that all his friends were people who approached him and talked with him, but he had never actually initiated a friendship. He was thinking about this until class began.

When lunch time came around Fujio quickly headed out of the classroom and took a left at the intersection right outside his classroom. He headed down the long hallway and took another right at the bathrooms, then walked into a dusty science lab and took a deep breath of relief.

He preferred eating alone so he could take time to enjoy his food, it was also when he was finally alone that he noticed the soreness in his legs from regularly biking. It was difficult for him to eat in noisy areas where he had to constantly fear others, things like dirty looks, whispering that isn’t very secret, and backhanded friendliness all disgusted him.

For a long time, he had wished for a friend, just one, that truly understood him. One that could explain the ideas he couldn’t, who gave him what he didn’t know he wanted. He had friends, but those didn’t go farther than some greetings and playing games from time to time. As time went on, he gave up on trying to find the dream friend.

He slowly pulled out his lunchbox, rice that was still warm. The taste reminded him of home but was overridden by worry about making a mess while eating. He rushed through his food, somewhat dispassionately. He ended up staring at the door and getting lost in thought. It wasn’t until She walked in that he came back to reality.