Kaito sat by his window, watching the rain streak down the glass like a silent monologue from the sky. Tokyo's neon heartbeat blurred in the water trails, and he could almost imagine it all washing away—his memories, his thoughts, his face.
It had been two months since the rooftop incident. He hadn't spoken to anyone in school since. He didn't need to. The silence was safer.
Yet deep down, Kaito knew he wanted more.
He wanted to laugh. He wanted to be hugged. He wanted someone to look at him
And for the first time, he wanted to change.
---
He started by jogging. Late at night. No one to see him. Hood up, music blasting. Just his feet pounding the pavement and the breath in his lungs. He lasted ten minutes the first time before vomiting. But he kept going. Night after night.
His body changed. Not drastically. But the pudge around his stomach trimmed, his shoulders straightened, and his jawline sharpened. The pimples that once scarred his cheeks faded—perhaps from the salicylic acid, perhaps from the sweat. He wasn't sure. He didn't care. It felt good.
Then came the punching bag.
He dug out the old gloves from the closet. His mother didn't know. His father didn't care. Kaito boxed in the storage room. Each strike echoing like thunder in his chest. Jab. Cross. Hook. The rhythm drowned out the whispers in his mind.
He began talking to a counselor—quietly, through online forums at first. Then one day, he walked into the school's office and asked for help.
It wasn't easy.
He sat across from a woman with warm eyes and a pen that never stopped moving. She didn't flinch when he told her about the voices in his head. The fantasies of violence. The despair. She just nodded and said, "You're not broken. You're healing."
For the first time, Kaito believed it.
---
It was at a neighborhood festival that things truly changed.
He didn't want to go. Crowds made him nauseous. But his sister dragged him out, promising free takoyaki and fireworks. The streets were lined with lanterns. Children laughed. The air smelled like grilled squid and sugar.
That's where he met her.
Yui.
She worked the goldfish scooping stand. Her hands were fast, her smile faster. Kaito tried to win a fish and broke three nets. She laughed—not mockingly, but genuinely. Like it was the funniest thing she'd seen all day.
"Maybe you're just bad luck incarnate," she teased.
He smiled, small and unsure. "Maybe."
They talked for ten minutes. Then an hour. Then her shift ended, and they walked through the stalls together.
For the first time, Kaito forgot he was broken.
He was just a boy. And she was just a girl. And they were just alive, under a sky of exploding colors.
---
But life, like fireworks, is fleeting.
And peace never lasts long for those who were born into storms.
(To be continued....)