Friday night. Rain tapped gently against the windows as Sakuragi Renji walked home.
His uniform clung slightly to his shoulders, soaked through. He didn't run. He never ran. Not anymore.
His house was small—a narrow two-story home near the outskirts of town. The lights were on. Shadows moved inside.
But Renji didn't feel relief.Just… the usual weight.
He stepped through the door quietly, removed his shoes, and walked in.
No one greeted him.
In the kitchen, his mother stood in front of the sink, sleeves rolled up, washing dishes. She glanced at him briefly.
"You're late," she said flatly.
"Stayed after class," Renji answered.
She didn't respond. Just went back to scrubbing.
The air between them felt colder than the rain outside.
Upstairs, his sister Ayaka's bedroom door was cracked open. He could hear the faint sounds of music and her voice chatting on the phone.
"…Yeah, my little brother? He's still weird. Always spacing out. Like, it's been years—get over it already, right?"
Renji paused in the hallway.
His chest didn't tighten anymore when he heard things like that.
He just blinked slowly, walked past her door, and entered his own room.
His room hadn't changed since middle school.Still the same bookshelf, the same old futon, the cracked corner of the window frame he once tried to fix himself.
He dropped his bag, sat on the edge of the bed, and stared at his reflection in the dark TV screen.
A flash of memory hit him—his mother's voice, years ago:
"You're a good boy, Renji. Just like your father was."
That version of her didn't exist anymore.
Not after the lie.
Dinner was quiet. His mother, Ayaka, and Renji sat around the table eating convenience store bentos. No one cooked these days.
"Eat more," his mom said, not looking up. "You've lost weight."
Renji didn't answer.
Ayaka clicked her tongue. "You act like a ghost, you know that?"
Renji put down his chopsticks.
"You can talk about me like I'm not here. I don't care."
"That's your problem," Ayaka muttered. "You don't care about anything."
"I did," he said softly. "Once."
The table went silent.
His mother finally looked at him.
Her face was tired. Older than he remembered.
"You're going to be like this forever, huh?"
Renji's voice was low.
"I was innocent."
Ayaka scoffed.
His mother didn't respond.
That was answer enough.
Back in his room, Renji lay on his side, staring at the wall.
He reached under his pillow and pulled out a folded notebook.
Inside, pages were filled with plans—his escape.Part-time job ideas. Cheap apartments. Night train routes. Places where no one would know the name Sakuragi Renji.
He flipped to the last page.
There, scribbled in the corner, was a single line:
"No one waits for me here."
The rain continued into the night.
Renji opened the window slightly and let the cold breeze in. The curtain fluttered like ghostly fingers.
Below, the street was quiet. Empty.
He leaned against the window frame, eyes distant.
"If I left tonight… would anyone even notice?"
His mother would sigh.
Ayaka might roll her eyes.
The world would keep spinning.
He touched the window glass, fingertips cold.
And for a brief second… he wished someone would knock on that door. Drag him out. Save him.
But fairytales weren't real.
Not for him.
Saturday morning came. Overcast sky. No breakfast.
He left the house before anyone woke up and took a train to the city.
No destination. Just… movement.
He ended up near a quiet park, sitting on a bench under a tree. Birds chirped. Kids played in the distance.
He took out a pencil and his notebook.
Not the escape one.The other one—the one no one knew about.
The one where he wrote stories.
"The boy who was erased.They all said he was dangerous.They feared him.But in truth,He was just… forgotten."
He stared at the words.
He wanted to hate them.But they were all he had.
Writing didn't judge him.Stories didn't lie.
A soft voice broke his focus.
"You're here again?"
He looked up.
The girl from class—the one with short hair and curious eyes—stood in front of him, holding a drink in her hand.
She offered it.
"Milk tea. For you."
Renji didn't move.
She placed it on the bench beside him anyway and smiled.
"You always look like you're about to disappear."
She turned to leave… then paused.
"I think you matter more than you think, Sakuragi-kun."
And then she walked away.
Renji stared at the milk tea. The condensation ran down the plastic cup like tears.
He didn't drink it.
But he didn't throw it away either.
End of Chapter 3