2010-----
The muffled voices of Mariya echoed through the house, shattering the stillness of the summer night. Kintarō and Naomi huddled behind the thin kitchen wall, keeping their distance from the storm of emotions brewing between their parents.
Leo spoke first, his voice calm and distant—a practiced detachment that barely concealed his indifference.
"We shouldn't argue around them."
Mariya's response was the stark opposite, laced with fury and hurt.
"I do not want to hear it from you right now! Why can't you be faithful for once? Is it really that difficult? We've finally got a chance to spend time together with my parents, and this is when you decide to show your true colours?!"
"Don't... say that. You know I love you all," he retorted, though his voice sounded far from convincing.
"All this time... my words meant nothing to you, did they? You never cared about Naomi or Kintarō! You never cared about me! The only thing you ever cared about was your selfish desires," Mariya yelled, her voice cracking under the weight of her emotions.
The argument only escalated from there, growing louder, and more raw. The walls did little to contain the anger from her, and soon, even the neighbours had heard enough. It did not take long for someone to call the police, and within moments, officers arrived—but even their attempts to intervene only proved futile.
On that clear summer night, Okamura and Naomi watched in silence, listening from the walls they hid behind as their family slowly unravelled before them. It wasn't just a ten-year marriage that fell apart that night.
A deep bond that had once held them together, now fractured beyond repair.
September 2015-----
"I knew it, you pervert!" a girl with straight-cut bangs shouted, her voice slicing through the hushed murmurs of the crowd.
"Freak! I can't believe he would do such a thing!" another girl with a fluffy bob sneered, arms crossed in blatant condescension.
"They say the quiet ones are the weird ones," a boy with a two-block haircut scoffed, shaking his head with a smirk. "Guess that turned out to be true, huh?"
"He was too quiet for his own good... absolutely disgusting," another girl with neatly trimmed bangs hissed, her eyes flashing with contempt.
No matter how much he denied it—no matter how desperately he tried to reason with them—their minds were already made up.
He was guilty.
At least, that's what they wanted to believe.
"Kintarō...?"
Her voice—soft and unsteady—cut through the noise. The crowd parted, and Koyori stepped forward, emerging from the sea of condemning faces.
"How could you... how could you do something like this?"
A storm of hurt and anger clouded her eyes, as if she were trying to piece together a shattered image—one that no longer matched the person she thought she knew.
She took a small step back.
"I... can't believe this," she stammered, voice trembling. "I was a victim, too. You know that, Kintarō!"
Okamura parted his lips—to explain, to plead, to deny everything—but not a single word came out.
Then, Kimiko stepped forward, placing a firm yet gentle hand on Koyori's shoulder.
"This isn't a place you should be, Koyori."
Koyori hesitated, her eyes lingering on him, torn between a memory of who he was and the reality now.
In the end, she allowed Kimiko to lead her away, her steps slow and reluctant.
While he sat there, surrounded by the condemning face of those he once knew, he couldn't tell who was truly to blame for his situation.
Was it Sakanoue? No—it couldn't have been him.
Or maybe Kimiko? No, I left her back in class.
And it definitely wasn't Koyori.
Was it Kou? No...
Minami?
His thoughts spiralled endlessly as he sat beneath the weight of their judgement, each face above him a blur of disappointment, anger, or fear.
Maybe it wasn't just one of them.
Maybe it was all of them.
Maybe it was no one at all...
2011-----
What did I do to deserve a life like this one?
"I'll ask one last time, Kintarō. Where have you been all day? You weren't at Ayaka-san's residence, nor were you at Tatsuro-san's!"
Without waiting for a response, her hand struck across his face. Okamura only stood in silence, withholding the tears from falling. If they did, he knew what would follow soon after.
"Why won't you answer my simple question? Am I speaking fucking Greek or something? Or are you too stupid to understand?!"
I was just a kid back then—trying to navigate a world crumbling around me. Trying to run from your frustration.
Your patience wore thin, and all your anger came crashing down on me.
More than anything, I just wanted to escape from the chaos that had taken over our house.
Even then, it felt like every step I took only made things worse.
"I swear, I'm done! I'm done with your bullshit!" she screamed, her words sharp and unrelenting. "You are just as worthless as your fucking father!"
Back then, your words were incomprehensible to me. I never understood why you held so much anger toward me.
"Why the fuck did I not choose Naomi over you? You're so insufferable."
But the way you cursed at me—and the physical abuse—that, I understood.
"I should have just had an abortion!"
And still, I forgave you.
Even though I shed tears every time you used me as an outlet for your rage.
"I want you out of my house now!"
I forgave you every time, even though you stripped away my innocence.
"Get out of my face before I fucking wring your neck dry!"
I forgave you, even though you took Naomi away from me.
"You and your wretched father should both die in a forest where no one will find your carcasses!"
I fucking forgave you for these scars.
"You should know that I regret having you!"
I forgave you—because I didn't want Koyori thinking our relationship was nonexistent.
I tried to reconcile with this trauma. Kou was my only source of comfort—she understood my pain and helped me through the healing process.
But even that didn't last. In the end, she fucked me over too—
"Ξέρω ότι έχεις πληγωθεί, κάνε υπομονή. Είμαι καθ' οδόν, Κιντάρο-κουν. Παρακαλώ να είστε δυνατοί μέχρι τότε."
「あなたの過去の傷はまだ残っている,私はそれを自分の利益のために利用する.」