You're Not Useless

For the past two days, I had deliberately maintained a significant distance from everyone around me, secluding myself in a self-imposed solitude. It was an experiment of sorts, a test to see if anyone would make the effort to seek me out. So far, it seemed like no one had taken notice or made any attempts to find me. By arriving at school early and immersing myself in my assignments, I successfully avoided any unnecessary interactions with others, slipping through the hallways like a ghost.

It surprised me that no one had made an effort to track me down at my workplace either. I knew escaping their attention there would be challenging, especially with Sakura's persistent inquiries about my absence. I resorted to fabricating excuses, constructing a web of lies to maintain my distance, although deep down, I suspected she might have had her doubts.

There was, however, one positive aspect of my current situation. With my intentional isolation, I found myself able to work longer hours, immersing myself in the bustling rhythm of the restaurant. Being recognized as one of the best waiters, my manager was pleased with my extended availability, resulting in increased tips and wages, a tangible reward for my self-imposed exile.

Returning home earlier than usual gave me more quality time with Kaito and Sakura, my younger siblings, who were unaware of the self-imposed isolation I had enveloped myself in. Walking them home from the bus stop, sharing meals together, and helping them with their homework provided a much-needed sense of relaxation amidst the turmoil in my mind. Their radiant smiles, innocent and unwavering, brought me moments of solace, momentarily lifting the weight of my self-inflicted solitude.

Yet, despite these joyous moments with my family, an underlying feeling of unease persisted, gnawing at the edges of my consciousness. Glancing at my phone, its screen lit up with missed calls from Yujiro and Aika, friends I had deliberately avoided, only intensified my guilt.

Deep down, I knew I had to ignore them, as painful as it was, convinced that my presence would only burden them further. The solitary walks to and from school, the quiet moments stolen amidst the chaos of my thoughts, allowed for introspection, a sanctuary of self-reflection amidst the noise of the world.

Yesterday, while retrieving my assignments at school, I unexpectedly ran into Mr. Izumiya, the amiable teacher who oversaw the astronomy club. Our conversations in the mornings gradually became more frequent and meaningful, creating an unexpected connection between us, a glimmer of light in the darkness I had enveloped myself in.

Today, I made the decision to stop by his classroom after school, seizing the opportunity to engage in a conversation that felt increasingly important. The astronomy club had just concluded, leaving the classroom bathed in a soft, golden glow.

As I stepped inside, I found Mr. Izumiya engrossed in some paperwork, his brows furrowed in concentration. I lightly knocked on the wall, the sound reverberating through the stillness, and he looked up, surprise evident in his deep, kind eyes.

"Oh, Haruki! I didn't expect to see you here at this time," he remarked, his voice warm and welcoming.

"Are you busy right now? I can come back tomorrow," I offered, uncertain whether I was intruding upon his realm of solitude.

He waved his hand dismissively, his gentle smile putting me at ease. "Just reviewing some paperwork. Nothing important," he assured me, gesturing for me to take a seat nearby.

"So, what's on your mind?" He asked, leaning back in his chair, his gaze filled with genuine curiosity.

My words hung momentarily in the air as I hesitated, unsure of how much to reveal. "Nothing much," I finally replied, my voice tinged with vulnerability. "I just wanted to talk, you know?"

Mr. Izumiya raised an eyebrow, a flicker of intrigue dancing in his eyes. "If you have any questions about anything, feel free to ask," he offered, his tone open and reassuring.

I looked at him intently, searching for answers within the depths of his wisdom. "Well, I was wondering, why did you become a teacher? Especially at your age. Wouldn't you prefer doing something else?" I ventured, my curiosity finally breaking free.

His face broke into an amused expression, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. "Wow, I didn't expect you to ask such probing questions," he admitted, a glint of admiration shining in his eyes. He straightened up in his chair, a silent invitation to dive deeper into the essence of his being.

"I guess I've always had a passion for teaching. Helping others was all I ever wanted to do," he reflected, his voice carrying a hint of nostalgia. He paused for a moment, lost in his own memories. "You could say that like many people who want to stay young and pursue their dreams, being a teacher was the dream I wanted to pursue."

As I listened, a newfound respect and understanding bloomed within me. Mr. Izumiya had chosen a path that resonated with his soul, embracing the calling of shaping young minds. His dedication and sincerity, despite societal expectations, revealed a strength of character that inspired me. I looked up at him, a smile tugging at the corners of my lips. "You might think I'm a loser or boring," he said, his self-deprecating humor adding a touch of vulnerability to his words.

I shook my head, my admiration unmasked. "Not at all. It seems like you're making choices and living the life you desire. That's far from boring."

Mr. Izumiya laughed, a hearty sound that filled the room with warmth. "Thanks. I have to say, you're more perceptive than most of my friends and family. They always question my commitment to what I do," he confessed, a note of gratitude lingering in his voice.

A genuine smile adorned my face, a flicker of pride in my newfound ability to see beyond the surface. "If you're living life on your terms, then you've already surpassed those expectations," I reassured him, my voice tinged with sincerity. I stood up, a sense of gratitude swelling within me. "Thanks for talking with me."

He chuckled, his laughter a melodic symphony echoing in my ears. "And thanks for not thinking I'm a loser!" He quipped, his humor infectious.

I laughed in response, a carefree melody escaping my lips. "You're too cool to be a loser."

Leaving the classroom, I decided to take a leisurely stroll through the empty hallways, allowing my thoughts to wander, to dance amidst the quietude. The soft glow of the setting sun spilled through the windows, painting the corridors in hues of gold and amber. It was in these moments of solitude that I found solace, where the tendrils of introspection unfurled, beckoning me to delve deeper into the intricacies of my existence.

"What have I missed out on?" I wondered to myself, my footsteps echoing through the vast emptiness. Finding an empty room, I settled into a chair, the cool surface grounding me. Gazing out the window, the ocean stretched before me, a vast expanse of shimmering blue, captivating in its serene beauty. The clear skies mirrored the tranquility of that fateful day, a day etched in my memory.

The memory of my conversation with Aika, before I distanced myself, resurfaced vividly, intertwined with the serene expanse before me. "They don't help me because they think I'm a great person. They do it because they think I'm useless." The scene played in my mind, juxtaposed with the serene ocean, but unlike the calm sky, it held the ugliness of my harsh and irrational words toward one of my closest friends.

Leaning back in the chair, I contemplated how different my life would be if my parents were still alive. Would I still carry this heavy burden of worry? Would I be the person I am today? Would my life be filled with happiness and joy? The questions floated in the air, their weight pressing against my chest.

Indulging in fantasies would not help me in the present. I needed to look forward and face reality, to confront the shadows that lurked within me. I couldn't continue isolating myself indefinitely, clinging to the safety of solitude. Throughout my life, I had always relied on the support of others, on the intertwined threads of connection that wove my existence. Maybe what I had said was true.

"People don't help me because I'm a great person... They do it because they think I'm useless," I whispered the last sentence under my breath, the words carrying a bitter truth.

With a deep breath, I rose from the chair, tears welling up as I stared at the vibrant colors of the sunset, the sky ablaze with a kaleidoscope of oranges and pinks. "Am I truly that pitiful?" I whispered to myself, my voice swallowed by the expanse of the room.

"Kaito and Sakura could go on without me, right? They have other people to rely on. Why me?" Wiping my tears with my sleeve, I turned to leave, only to find Ayumi standing by the doorway, her presence both unexpected and welcomed.

"Ayumi," I stammered, surprised by her sudden appearance. "What are you doing here?" The air crackled with a fragile tension, a palpable vulnerability.

She remained motionless, her gaze unwavering, her eyes filled with concern. A brief silence enveloped us, the weight of unspoken words hanging between us, suspended in the air like whispered promises.

"Do you genuinely believe you're useless?" She asked, her voice soft and gentle, a lifeline in the tempest of my thoughts.

"How long have you been standing there?" I inquired, my voice tinged with a mix of trepidation and curiosity.

"Long enough to understand why you've been avoiding everyone," she replied, her words carrying a depth of understanding. She had heard everything, hadn't she? The vulnerabilities I had laid bare, the echoes of my self-doubt that reverberated in the empty spaces of my heart.

"Why would you think you're useless?" She questioned, her voice filled with genuine concern, her presence a flicker of warmth in the cold emptiness of the room. I remained silent, grappling with the complexities of my own self-perception.

"Yujiro and Aika have been searching for you these past few days. They need you," she revealed, her words breaking the silence, offering a glimpse of the interconnectedness that defined our lives.

"Need me?" I responded, my voice heavy with skepticism. "They can manage perfectly well without me."

"What about Kaito and Sakura?" She pressed on, her voice unwavering, her eyes reflecting unwavering determination. "They need you."

I stared at the floor, my thoughts swirling like a tempest within me. "Aika takes care of them, not me," I finally murmured, my voice laced with a mix of resignation and guilt.

"Stop lying to yourself!" Ayumi exclaimed, stepping closer to me, her voice filled with urgency. "Many people would be affected if you weren't around!" The words hung in the air, resonating within the depths of my being.

I turned around and looked at her, our eyes locking in a moment of shared vulnerability, of recognition amidst the chaos. "Like who?" I yelled, my voice tinged with desperation. "Who would be different if I weren't here?!"

"Me," Ayumi answered, her voice unwavering, her gaze steady. I froze in place, my breath caught in my throat.

"What?" I mumbled, my voice barely a whisper, my heart pounding against my chest.

"Before I met you, I was alone and shy. No one ever wanted to talk to me or lend me a helping hand," she confessed, her words revealing the hidden depths of her past, the pain she had carried in silence. She shifted her position slightly, her vulnerability laid bare. "I believed that my life would always be like that, devoid of anything to cherish."

She took another step closer, her presence filling the room, her voice tinged with a mix of gratitude and vulnerability. "When I first saw you, when you stood up for me and prevented those people from hurting me, I was confused. I didn't understand why you were helping me."

I remained still, my gaze fixed on the ground, my heart pounding in my chest, uncertain of where this conversation was heading. "It wasn't until later that day at the hospital that I figured it out."

Ayumi closed her eyes momentarily, a flicker of raw emotion crossing her face. "When you told me it was your choice to help me, something changed within me. I realized that I wasn't despised by the world, that there were people who would stand by my side." Her eyes seemed to wander, lost in her own memories, her voice carrying the weight of gratitude and newfound strength.

"Yujiro has been different ever since that day. Please, right now, he just needs you to forgive him," Ayumi pleaded, her voice soft yet filled with conviction, her vulnerability laid bare. She placed her arms behind her back, a gesture of humility and earnestness. "I know he said things he shouldn't have, but it doesn't mean he isn't sorry."

"I know," I acknowledged, my voice filled with a mix of understanding and pain. "I know he didn't mean any harm. But it's just that everyone who knows about my life always treats me differently than others." I glanced down, my gaze locked on the floor, my voice tinged with the weight of past experiences.

"I just want to be treated normally, not as if I'm worthless." I sighed, a sigh heavy with the burden of self-perception. "I didn't want you to act the same."

Ayumi looked at me intently, her gaze unwavering, her voice laced with unwavering determination. "Whether or not I know your past doesn't change how I see you. I will always treat you as you are."

"But that still doesn't mean I have any worth," I replied, noticing Ayumi's eyes briefly scanning the floor, her vulnerability mirroring my own.

She raised her gaze, her eyes meeting mine, a spark of unwavering conviction burning within her. She began to walk slowly towards me, her steps deliberate and steady. "I've learned from you that no one is worthless. Everyone has something valuable to offer to the world."

She stopped a few inches away from me, her presence a magnet drawing me closer, her words resonating in the depths of my being. I could hear my own heartbeat, its rhythm growing louder, echoing the intensity of the moment.

"I have something to offer, and so do you," she said, her voice soft yet resolute, her eyes locked with mine. "Stop ignoring the people who need you. Come back to school with me." I stared at her, my heart swelling with a mix of emotions, my face flush with warmth.

"Your friends need you. Sakura and Kaito need you," she continued, pausing for a moment to let her words sink in. "I need you. So don't call yourself worthless because..." Ayumi wrapped her arms around me, her embrace both gentle and firm, her voice a whispered promise. "You're not useless."