The days went by as usual, with both Kenji and Misumi never fitting in, never making new friends of old classmates, and never missing a night together at her house. Soon enough, two weeks slipped by as the nights grew colder, the days shorter; a winter’s bite rode upon the wind. And while they spent most of their free time together, they were in separate classrooms, so each school day involved being surrounded by people who barely noticed their existence. They’d sit through boring lectures and scribble in their notebooks, gaze out windows and sigh. For with each morning came a new opportunity for life to stomp them back into the dirt—and on that front, they always knew what to expect.

During class, Misumi was slipped a note from one of the girl’s nearby, and when she opened it, she read the word ‘slut’ in bold letters. Snickering came from behind her, no doubt from Hanako and her friends, who loved putting her down. Meanwhile, on Kenji’s side of the world, he fell asleep during class, spurring the teacher to scold him as the other students rolled their eyes, muttering about how typical it was of him to slack off. According to hearsay, his prostitute of a mother would one day drag him into the trade as well, so it came as no surprise that he’d waste opportunities at school.

But, despite the chaos, they’d still walk home together and find peace by the light of a television screen, be it through anime, movies, or videogames. They could laugh it off, then talk all night about how much they hated that school. And when bedtime came, they’d fall asleep like nothing was wrong, though the cycle would start all over the next day.

However, a night arrived that Kenji was not staying at Misumi’s house; no, he was having dinner with his mother, who had finally stopped bringing strangers home. In the dead of night, far past a normal dinnertime, they sat across from one another at the table, completely silent. Most lights in the house were off except for those in the kitchen, and though she tried her best, his mother made an incredibly meager, overcooked meal. Even the rice tasted bad.

By any standard, Hina Oshimoto was a beautiful woman—but only on the outside. Ever since she got a divorce five years ago, she’d let herself drift farther and farther from reality, from motherhood, and it had gotten so bad that Kenji was raising her and not the other way around. Drunk one night and sleeping with strangers the next, she held on to vice after vice, hoping at least one of them would keep her from drowning. If only she looked across the table for once, then maybe she’d realize her own son was the only life preserver she needed.

“You look tired,” Kenji said. It had been so long since they spoke, he had forgotten how to talk to her. “How do you feel?”

Her dark hair was long and smooth, covering one eye. At no point did she look at him, and most of their conversation so far was little more than basic communication.

“I’m fine,” she answered. “Thanks for asking.”

Kenji fiddled with his food, forced himself to eat a bite, then watched her. Unlike him, she hadn’t touched her plate, which was bizarre, considering she hardly ate anything that day. As a reaction, he asked, “Aren’t you hungry?”

“Not at all,” she stated curtly, proceeding to look up at him with a single eye. “Kenji…I feel like we’re drifting apart. Like we barely know each other anymore.”

In spite of wishing the opposite were true, Kenji knew she wasn’t wrong.

He produced a fake cough and inquired, “What do you mean?”

“You know exactly what I mean.”

A thick, all-consuming silence followed as they sat across from another, barely touching their food. Indeed, they had grown apart. They hardly ever talked, and when they did, it was nothing more than ‘Goodnight’ or ‘Have a nice day’, but any conversation of substance died long ago, back when his dad was still around. There wasn’t much of a chance they’d ever find it again, not if things didn’t change.

His mom picked up where she left off, “No need to hide it, Kenji. We both know it’s my fault. I’m a whore and a terrible mother, aren’t I?” The look of pain in her eyes was burdened with a half-decade of suffering, which he felt and understood perfectly. “Just say it! Tell me I’m awful and that I have no idea what I’m doing!”

“Mom, please…” he faltered.

But she wouldn’t let up, hoping he’d what she must have been telling herself for months, possibly even years. Her eyes were red with tears; her voice was broken:

“I know I haven’t made the best decisions, but I’m not good for much—you know that. I never went to school or worked a real job. My body is the only thing I have to offer, so I should use it, right? Right?”

“Mom, enough already!” he exclaimed. After Kenji raised his voice, her one visible eye dripped a single tear, and she turned away in shame. “I don’t think you’re a terrible mother. But…I wish you’d stop giving yourself to men who don’t deserve you. Especially here.”

At that, her devastated expression transformed into one of shock, as if she were just compared to the rarest gem or purest bar of gold. Not many people spoke kindly of her in life.

“I’d stop if I could,” she muttered. “If I knew how…I’d do anything, Kenji.”

Rather than give talk more about the subject, he stood up and carried his bowl to the sink, where he intended to wash it—and hers as well. However, he had one more thing to say before getting to work:

“You really wanna know why we don’t talk anymore? Your excuses. You talk about change all the time, but never make it happen. So if you want us to have a normal relationship again, you need a normal job and a normal life.” Her eyes trailed him to the sink. “Make it happen, Mom. Be the person you want to be, then we can talk about being a real family again.”

As the room turned silent, his mother watched. Meanwhile, he proceeded to wash both their dishes and think to himself:

‘Be the person you want to be? Change?’ I really am a hypocrite, aren’t I…

 

******

 

Another day came and went, and Misumi was on her way to the library like every day before. Peace at last. She could avoid the prying eyes of Hanako and the teasing laughter of other girls, and if she was lucky, leave before Kenji finished clean-up duty that afternoon. All she really wanted was to go home, to escape from that place and never return—though she’d always come back the next day.

She had received another call from her parents. This time, they said they’d be home for Christmas, though Misumi didn’t believe a word of it. They were just placating her. Pacifying any anxieties she had about them being gone for so long. Fortunately, she knew better than to get excited, and she wouldn’t dare look forward to them coming home at Christmas. But somehow, that was okay. She and Kenji would spend the holidays together, and that was more than she could ask for. At least he was there when it mattered.

As a smile squirmed onto her lips, Misumi turned a corner and found none other Hanako—the queen of hell—standing there, leaning against the wall and twirling a bit of her dark hair between her fingers. However, she wasn’t the other person waiting.

Not only were her friends there, but Hanako’s boyfriend was present also—as was Yuuto, whom he was good friends with.

“Finally,” Hanako sighed, rolling her eyes. “Nice of you show up.”

Misumi tried not to panic and keep her cool. “Just leave me alone, okay? I have to get to the library.”

“Yeah, that’s not gonna happen.”

Smirking, Hanako pried herself off the wall and approached Misumi. Just inches away, she glared at her prey with starving eyes, that kind a hungry tiger might wear while on the hunt.

“You see…” she continued. “…Yuuto’s got a bone to pick with Kenji, so we invited him along today. He’ll be helping us out.”

“What are you talking about? Just move out of my way.”

But like lightning, Hanako grabbed Misumi’s hair and pulled, then jammed a knee into her stomach, causing her to gasp and fall down. Afterward, Misumi was kicked several times. Then, when she was curled up, crying, and trying to protect herself, Hanko knelt down and whispered something in the most rotten, sadistic voice she could:

“Oh no,” she hissed. “We’ve got special plans for you.”

 

******

 

Kenji held the crumpled picture of Misumi in his hands, admiring his own artwork. There was just something about that drawing. Unlike everything else, which he tossed out after Yuuto tore his sketchbook to pieces, this one he kept; it resonated with him, always making him smile.

From inside the classroom, he stared out the windows at the rest of campus, tired of seeing that place day in and day out. He wanted change—for both his life at school and his life at home. But as it stood, he had no way of making either of those things happen, not yet. The people around him had formed a clique that included everyone but him, and his mother was in no state to change the course of her life no matter how much she wanted to. Even so, maybe things would change one day and he’d be happier. Maybe not.

“Well…” he groaned. “Better go get Misumi from the library. It’s so warm in there, she’s probably fallen asleep…”

It felt nice to have avoided Yuuto for the afternoon. Like jumping through the sweet window of freedom, he could breathe for once, without having to glance over his shoulder and wonder if he’d be jabbed from behind.

So, through the quiet the halls of school he walked, passing by clubrooms full of best friends, all laughing and having a good time. Outside, the track team was doing laps—a daily routine. So many people had a normal high school life, and he envied them. Why couldn’t he and Misumi have the same thing?

It wasn’t long before he reached the library, but to his surprise, Misumi wasn’t sitting behind the front desk. Instead, the head librarian sat quietly as several other students roamed the shelves, and when Kenji asked if she had left already, he was informed that she never showed up. Why would that be? She never skipped her only afterschool activity.

“Okay, thank you,” he said with a bow.

However, as Kenji left the serene and cozy atmosphere of the school library and wandered back into the vacant halls, his cellphone buzzed. A text.

‘Storage room by the pool,’ it read.

The message came from an unknown number, and after reading it, Kenji scratched his head. Maybe Misumi had gotten a new phone and just didn’t let him know.

“That’s kind of creepy, but okay…” he grumbled. “The storage room it is, then.”

Though he had never used the pool before, he had helped clean it once; and, since it was winter time, all the water had been drained out and the swim team would be using an indoor pool roughly two kilometers from the school. There was no reason for Misumi to be there. None whatsoever. And as he walked across the grounds, he began to think maybe she hadn’t sent the text at all. Maybe it was another lure from Yuuto, a beckoning to come get the hell beat of him in a place no one else could see.

“We’ll find out soon, I guess,” sighed Kenji.

With the passing of five minutes, he reached the pool and the nearby locker rooms, and the storage waited for him at the far end. The place was so empty and lifeless, and with the pool drained, it felt like a scene from some classic disaster film where a young man wakes up as the only person still alive in a fully dead world.

When at last he reached the storage shed, Kenji slid its door open, half-expecting to find Yuuto waiting for him, but as his shadow stretched into the small room, his eyes widened, his muscles trembled, his heart nearly exploded from shock. Misumi was there, tied up with rope around her arms, wrists, and ankles, and she curled up on the floor as a cloth gagged her mouth and bruises covered her bare legs and face. She screamed and cried upon seeing him, her eyes streaming with tears, but the noise was muffled due to the cloth shoved down her throat.

“Misumi!” he exclaimed, rushing to her side.

Knees on the floor, Kenji immediately pulled the cloth out of her mouth, allowing her stifled cries to finally open up. They were shrill like a widow wailing over her deceased husband’s fresh corpse, and at first there were no words, just terrible, heart-wrenching fear in her sobs. That sound could never be forgotten. However, Kenji didn’t stop to listen, and he began frantically untying the rope; he got a good look at the bruises that covered her body. Some were faint, others were deep purple or crimson. Someone had beaten her—and they did so without mercy.

“Who did this?” Kenji asked. His own tears were quelled by a combination of terror and disbelief, and he managed to get one of the ropes untied. Just two more to go.

But Misumi didn’t answer him and continued to sob. She did so until all the ropes were unknotted and loosened, at which point she crawled to her knees and fell into him, wrapped both arms around his neck as she cried without any signs of slowing down.

“K-Kenji…t-they just kept kicking and kicking…I thought it would never end…”

“Who?” Kenji pushed. “Who did this to you? Tell me!”

As that question left his mouth, a set of shadows appeared on the floor—a group. Then, as Misumi panicked and released him, she crawled back to the rear wall in fear. Kenji turned around swiftly stood up.

“Well, well, well…” scoffed Hanako, letting each syllable come out smoothly and with an easy spill. “The little whore really does have a boytoy. Imagine that. Yuuto said you’d come running, but I didn’t believe it. Look’s like I was wrong.”

“Hanako…” Kenji seethed, eyeing the crowd.

There were eight in all. Hanako and her boyfriend. Yuuto. Their friends. They were the ones who hurt Misumi. Had they gone mad?

“That’s right,” said Yuuto. He stepped forward, smirking as he glanced at Misumi. “I don’t usually hit ladies, but it was worth it. The look on your face is priceless.”

How evil did someone have to be to hurt an innocent person? How cruel? Kenji didn’t understand it. He had never hurt anyone his whole life, but for some reason, everyone wanted to hurt him, and it had been that way since he was young. Now Misumi’s life was the same: full of torment that would never end, and just the thought of that broke his heart into a thousand bloody pieces.

“What’s wrong, Oshimoto? Cat got your tongue?” Yuuto taunted. “Wait, lemme guess—it’s that whore of a mother you’ve got, isn’t it?”

Kenji clenched his teeth.

No matter where they ran, pain would follow. It would pull them into the street and run them over. It would climb mountains to drag them back down, and crawl up sandy shores to drown them in the sea. They couldn’t get away. They couldn’t dream of outrunning their enemies. And they sure couldn’t hide from those who always sought them out.

But maybe hiding was the problem.

Kenji spent so much time getting hurt that he had forgotten how to throw punches of his own, and as he faced the silhouettes of tyrants in the doorway, his fists curled so tightly he thought the bones might tear from his skin. He glanced back at Misumi.

The bruises on her weren’t going away anytime soon, and the mental trauma she suffered would stay for weeks, months, or even years. Change wouldn’t come on its own. Therefore, if Kenji wanted things to be different, he had to shove change down life’s throat until it swallowed, and that all started right here, right now.

Yuuto.

Hanako.

Everyone.

It was their turn to feel pain.

Their turn.

“You bastards…” Kenji muttered with a trembling voice. The fear was overwhelming, facing such a large group by himself, but he couldn’t back down. He’d never back down again. “All of you are spineless, repulsive bastards. I’ll make you pay for this…”

“What’s he yammering about now?” mocked Hanako. She glanced back to her friends. “Did you hear that, guys? We’re bastards, apparently.”

But the moment she turned back around, Kenji’s anger exploded as he charged at her, and like a wrecking ball crashing into the side of a glass building, his fist collided hard against her rotten face, breaking her nose and completely knocking her to the ground.

“No more!” Kenji rasped. “This bullshit ends today!”

And as Hanako tumbled like a ragdoll, bleeding from her nose and crying, everyone there stepped back as their hateful smirks melted into disbelief and numbness. Even Misumi couldn’t believe it, and she stopped crying momentarily, mouth agape as she watched the scene unfold.

Kenji then kicked Hanako in the stomach and roared, “C’mon! Are you gonna fight back or what? Get up!”

His blood boiled inside his veins. Seeing Misumi in such a broken state, the fear in her eyes, the sound of her cries—all these things together turned him into a mad man that just didn’t care anymore. If the pain wasn’t going to stop, he might as well cause some damage.

As expected, not another moment passed before Kenji was tackled by Yuuto, who wrestled him to the storage room floor. From there, Yuuto threw punch after punch as his face, straddling him.

I’m not giving up… Kenji thought while absorbing the blows. Not yet…

He managed to block several hits with one arm, then got a knee between Yuuto’s legs, striking upward with as much force as possible. When the giant fell sideways, breathless from the pain, Kenji staggered to his feet and repeatedly stomped on Yuuto’s stomach, face, arms.

“Get up!” he thundered with a hoarse voice.

Beads of crimson dripped from his busted lip and bloody nose.

“Get up, damn it!”

Suddenly, Hanako’s boyfriend stepped in and grabbed Kenji from behind, wrapping an arm around his neck. However, Kenji managed to maneuver his own head and clamp his jaws into flesh before he was choked out. A bloodcurdling howl ensued as he bit down hard.

Then, as the tension on his neck was released, Kenji jabbed an elbow backwards into bony ribs, and after taking a punch to the right cheek from a third assailant, he stumbled into a nearby rack layered with cleaning supplies. That was no matter. Pain hurt, but it meant nothing.

Next came a snarling set of teeth.

Kenji was charged one more time.

In desperation, he overturned the rack, causing its metal frame and contents to crash over his last opponent and Yuuto, who still hadn’t recovered. Liquid spilled and metal clanged. Then, he climbed over the rubble, pushed Hanako’s boyfriend into a pile of lane lines, and breathed heavily as he hunched over Misumi.

“C’mon…” he panted. “We have to get out of here…”

She just stared up at him, utterly shocked. She stuttered a basic response: “O-Okay…”

Meanwhile, Hanako’s entourage had already pulled her free of the chaos and were outside the storage room, keeping their distance from the brawl like the cowards they were.

And as the fire in Kenji’s heart kept him going, he pulled Misumi to her feet and darted away with her out the storage building’s entrance, passing the other girls a violent glare along the way. They stepped away from him, and Hanako cried out in pain on the ground.

White running, he yelled: “You deserve every bad thing that happens to you, you hear me? All of you can go straight to hell!”

School was over at that point and most of the campus was empty, but still, Kenji didn’t stop running. Though he was in immense pain, he felt so alive, so free, so new, like he could conquer anything or face the greatest giants. He’d never let himself or Misumi be tortured again, and if anyone pushed them down, he’d stand up and strike back twice as hard.

They ran along the outside of empty classrooms, past the gymnasium, and across the track field toward a maintenance exit that was rarely used, and all the while Kenji held Misumi’s hand tight.

“Where are we going?” she asked, barely keeping up with his pace.

He puffed, “Anywhere but here!”

When finally off the school grounds, they kept running, having no direction, no destination, and they darted past small shops and across intersections. But eventually, even Kenji ran out of steam, and he plodded to a halt, hunching over in the middle of a street with dried blood over his mouth, chin, and shirt. Misumi was also out of breath, and moreover, the bruises on her body must have ached terribly.

The street was void of all cars as they lingered at the top of a small hill, just over the summit. Far away, the city skyline watched, standing proud against the cool weather, and a flock of birds soared over the city as they migrated elsewhere for the coming winter. Somehow, Tokyo had never looked so alive—or perhaps it as just Kenji’s outlook that had changed. All the misery he built up over the years had washed away like a ruptured dam, and as he breathed in and out, a new season rolled in, one that was sure to be warmer.

“Kenji…” uttered Misumi. “…what was that?”

“Huh?”

“What you just did. They could’ve beaten you senseless, but you fought them anyway. Why?”

Even in his mind, what happened before was a fluke. Had he not caught Hanako by surprise and terrified everyone, there’s no way he’d still be walking. Even so, he regretted none of it, and would throw himself in the ring a thousand times if it meant putting their asses to shame.

“Because I’m not gonna let them hurt you anymore,” he stated. Kenji stood up straight, cracked his back, then rubbed at his aching shoulder. “They’ve taken things too far, and if they ever step to me or you again, I’ll step right back. I’m not lying down and taking their crap anymore. I’m not taking it from anyone, and you know why?”

“Tell me.”

“Because Yuuto, Hanako, the teachers, my classmates, even my own mother—they’re all lunatics, and I’m not satisfied with that. It’s time to make a change. A permanent change. And if they won’t do it, I will.”

As both of them stood center of the street, surrounded by residential buildings with family businesses on the ground floors, a heavy silence crept in, forcing both of them to accept what had just happened. After a long wait, lines were drawn. A fire was lit. And though the bullying may not have ended that day, Yuuto and Hanako would think twice before they caused trouble. Maybe they’d reconsider and back off.

Misumi lacked the energy to keep speaking, so instead, she abruptly latched onto Kenji with a hug, paying no mind to the blood all over him. It was warm, almost obsessive, like she wouldn’t let go even if the whole world screamed for her to do so. In that moment, in a place where life was nothing but wrong, everything felt so right.

Kenji wrapped both arms around her as she started to cry once more, so full of emotion that only time could subdue, and if he knew anything, it was that the pain would come and go like it always had. From now on, however—he’d make sure it never came again.

A restful pause found them in the street.

Yet as if to spite their success, a new, unavoidable foe exposed itself from the woodwork of the city: a truck which came roaring up the hill. Its engine growled like a lion. The driver didn’t see. And though Kenji tried his hardest to push Misumi out of the way, the brakes squealed loud on the pavement, and collision was inevitable. On the cusp of immeasurable change in their lives, death tugged on the string of their existence in that final moment, and as their eyes pinched shut tightly, it whispered in their ears:

Lights out.