For most students, life at Kiyose Higashi High School was a pleasant experience. It rested on the outskirts of Tokyo, far enough away from the skyline to be calm and serene, without the overwhelming roar of traffic, crowded sidewalks, and the hustle and bustle of life in the city. The grounds were small but efficient, so much so that one could hardly notice they weren’t on a larger, more extravagant campus, and each wing stood four stories high. There were cherry trees in the main courtyard that would blossom every spring, lathering the grounds in a sprinkle of pink flowers that twirled on the wind like spirit dancers coming back to earth each year to see their old home again. Recently, the school’s budget had been expanded, giving the students and staff more resources, more possibilities, and money had even been allotted to remodel the gymnasium, which desperately needed work. Indeed, for most of those attending Kiyose Higashi High School, life was good—but for a select few, it was a living nightmare.

Kenji’s back crashed against the wall and he gasped in pain.

The bullies never let up.

Six months ago, his mom was caught sleeping with the former principal, an act that not only caused the man to get a divorce, but to lose his job as well. And that was a crying shame for one reason only: the principal’s son still attended the school, and he hated Kenji for what his mother did to their family.

A fist careened straight into his stomach, taking Kenji’s breath away. He coughed repeatedly. Then, in the chaos, a group of voices hurled insults at him.

“Get up, freak!” shouted one of the boys.

“Hey, go easy on him. He’s probably not even his father’s son,” laughed another.

A third added, “Yeah. Who knows how many men his mom has slept with...”

Kenji collapsed from the pain, falling on his side.

Meanwhile, the cruelest of them all—and the one who carried out the attack—stood like an insurmountable giant above him. Yuuto was his name, and it was he who found Kenji alone on cleaning duty that afternoon, thus spurring the current situation. Inside a classroom, they kept up with their bullying until Kenji had a bloody nose, bruises all over his arms and torso, and a self-image wounded just as bad.

Finally, Yuuto pressed his foot against Kenji’s face. “Like always, you bend over and get screwed—just your mother.” He spat. “C’mon, guys. Let’s let him cry like a baby for a little while. We’ll just pick up where we left off tomorrow.”

Without another word, they all left the classroom, sliding the door shut behind them as Kenji remained in the fetal position on the floor. Sadly, Yuuto was right. He was a pussy. Too afraid to stick up for himself. And as he staggered to a wobbly standing position, he wiped the blood from his face and let the tears fall, knowing they’d be joined by more the next day. Crying had become a part of his life at that point, though he rarely let others see.

His body ached so bad he wanted to lay down and sleep it off, but he couldn’t. A long walk home was still to follow. And while standing there, sniveling away the remaining tears, he looked over the classroom, the sea of desks, the chalkboard, and rays of golden sun that leaked through windows on the opposite wall. That place and everyone in it was trash. Worthless, apathetic trash. They knew he was tortured every day, but no on stepped in to help; not even the teachers. Yuuto’s family was that intimidating.

However, there was one other person who understood his pain. One person who experienced mistreatment, and it just happened that she burst through the classroom door, frantically searching for him with a petrified look on her face.

“Kenji!” she exclaimed, tackling him with a hug of such strength that it nearly pushed him over.

He didn’t know what to say, but managed to utter quietly: “Misumi…”

Her arms squeezed tight around his neck. Her chestnut hair smelled sweet with shampoo. But what he didn’t expect were the tears streaming from her eyes as her face buried into his neck.

“I was on my way here when Yuuto and his friends walked by,” she cried. “They were bragging about what they just did. I can’t believe it. They’re so cruel!”

Her sympathy was appreciated, but Kenji knew better than to let his only friend drown in pity for him. Therefore, he pushed Misumi away.

“Get off me,” he griped, sniffling. “Let’s just go home, okay? There’s no reason to stick around here.”

“But shouldn’t we visit the nurse’s office? You’re hurt, Kenji!”

“No!” he shouted. “I just wanna get out of here! It’s nothing I can’t take of myself.”

The look in her eyes morphed into shame, and Misumi looked away toward the floor. Her tears remained, which caused Kenji to slow down and apologize.

“I’m sorry. That was uncalled for. But can we just leave?”

Silenced engulfed them for several moments as she took on a meek and unassuming stance, head down. However, she didn’t take long to forgive him, and she brought her eyes up and smiled. Even if it was forced on his behalf, Kenji appreciated it.

“Sure,” she voiced with a tilt of her head. “Let’s go home.”

The streets between school and their neighborhood were quieter than most, less traveled by cars, and after leaving campus, Kenji and Misumi walked beside one another as the sun hung low in the sky. Rooftops were shadowed on one side, and most of the trees were reduced to silhouettes, just dark phantoms of who they were during the day. Gated houses and the occasional shop bordered every sidewalk. A wave of distance clouds rolled over the sky, painted with the colors of deep violet and honey orange, bleeding into golden yellow as they drifted closer to the sun. A beautiful world it was, but as Kenji kicked a pebble on the ground, he gritted his teeth and cursed his shitty life.

“Hey, Kenji…” muttered Misumi as she walked next to him.

“Yeah?”

“If you want, you can stay at my place tonight. My parents cancelled their flight again. They won’t be home for another month.”

Misumi’s family traveled year by year due to their work, and currently they were in Europe—both of them. They’d already been there three months.

“No thanks,” Kenji said. When he declined, her eyes drooped. “My mom’s not going out tonight, so I figured I’d spend some time with her. Tomorrow though?”

“Yeah,” she nodded. “Tomorrow.”

Taking a deep breath, Kenji winced at the pain in his side and face, then rolled out a kink in his left arm. A tired sigh drained out from his lungs as he stared down at his feet.

Life.

It was never easy for them. Misumi spent most nights alone and Kenji kept his mother from diving into alcoholism—when she wasn’t out having sex with strangers, that is. All he wanted was a chance to sit back and relax for once. He wanted life to go back to when he was a child, when the world seemed vast and much brighter. Now he was stuck at sunset, and the only chance he had of turning back the clock was in his imagination.

“Did Hanako say anything to you today?” he asked.

“No, but she drew a picture of me on the board before school. Everyone laughed.”

Kenji breathed out. “I’d expect no less from her. Garbage has a way of getting people to laugh at its jokes. When you stink that bad, what else can you do?”

The faintest giggle seeped from Misumi’s lips as she stared at the ground, but it soon turned into a full-on laugh that genuinely took him off guard. It took a while, but she eventually calmed down, sniffling softly afterward.

“Tell her that and see what happens,” she said. “You’ll be eating dirt.”

Suddenly hearing those words broke Kenji’s heart. He had faced bullying for a while, so he could take it, but Misumi? She deserved better than that. No one should be made an outcast by their own classmates, and especially over an obvious lie.

Two months ago, Hanako’s boyfriend left school late in the afternoon after soccer practice, and found Misumi alone by the lockers. He started flirting with her, getting frisky and saying inappropriate things, and after she pushed him away, he began spreading rumors about her the following week. Apparently, he lied and said that Misumi not only tried to kiss him, but begged him to sleep with her. Naturally, Hanako believed him—just like everyone else.

“Karma’s gonna catch up to these freaks one day,” Kenji griped. “Just you wait. I’ll laugh at them when they need help the most.”

“You could at least try to not sound like a maniac,” Misumi commented, glancing at him.

“Why is that so bad? They’re the maniacs. Not me. Not you. They deserve every bad thing that happens to them.”

“Well…I guess so…but…”

“But what? How could you possibly disagree?”

Misumi looked back at the ground as they turned a corner, finally close to home. “Well, I’d like to make friends at some point. We can’t do that if we’re bitter.”

After six months of torture, Kenji had given up hope on ever making friends at that school. Nobody was worth it. The students, the staff—nobody had their head on straight and not a single person even pretended he existed.

He shook his head and hissed, “Yeah, well I’m different, I guess.”

When they finally reached home, Kenji walked to her front door, waved as she went inside and said goodnight, then waited there for a while. He gazed down the street. That lonely, empty street. Then, after an aching sigh, he stumbled off to his house next door, where he expected to find his mother inside ready to cook dinner with him.

However, upon entering the house, removing his shoes in the foyer, and roaming to the kitchen, he found nothing. No food. No preparation. And certainly not his mother. Narrowing his eyes, he called out, hoping she’d answer from somewhere else in the house, but he was met with thick silence.

“Don’t tell me she went out again…” Kenji muttered.

Following a bump from upstairs, he kept silent and tip-toed out from the kitchen, creeping to the second floor. Once there, he wandered the hall, hearing gasping of breath and what sounded like the voice of a stranger. And at last, as he reached his mother’s bedroom, Kenji cracked open the door and peered inside, catching sight of the last thing he wanted to see that evening.

His mother. A dirty-looking man. Meshed together like two dolls connected at the hip, they were faking love without any concern for the consequences. Whatever made money—that’s what his mom would sell herself for. And though it was rare, she brought her work home with her sometimes, and he refused to be in the same house as that.

Gently shutting the door, he turned around and let his face twist into something unpleasant, antagonistic, and aggressive. And yet, as he walked away from the bedroom, he calmed himself down and proceeded downstairs, where he grabbed his toothbrush, a change of clothes, and his cellphone. From there, it was off to Misumi’s house. Kenji marched to the foyer, put his shoes back on, and with a callous grunt, shrugged off his mother’s behavior as something she couldn’t help. It had been that way for a long time.

Upon reaching Misumi’s door, he rang the bell and waited. After a few seconds, she answered with a look a surprise across her face.

“Kenji?” she asked. “What are you doing here? I thought you were spending time with your mom tonight?”

He scratched back of his head, pretending to be unaffected by what just happened, and he produced a fake laugh. “About that…she’s not at home. But what did I expect? Ever since dad left, she’s been missing too.”

And in the midst of another sunset, Kenji let the world behind him fade as he stepped into Misumi’s house—a place that never cast him out. That night, they stayed up late and watched movies together, played cards, and cooked dinner, and for just a short time, they managed to forget about life beyond that refuge of the familiar, that haven of serenity. When bedtime came, Kenji slept on the floor of her bedroom while she took the bed, and they talked for hours, mulling over the mundane and the heavy, often laughing at things that made no sense. Then finally, as she drifted off to sleep, he lay awake, wondering what tomorrow had in store. But no matter what happened—he knew it wouldn’t be better than the time they spent together that evening, for she was the only thing that made him feel at ease.