The alarm clock's sharp ring tore through the silence of Ran Dalward's bedroom.
He groaned and quickly shut it off before the sound could travel any further. The last thing he wanted was to wake his father.
Six-thirty.
Too early… but it always was.
Ran slowly pushed himself out of bed, his feet touching the cold floor. A small shiver ran through his body. Everything felt the same — every single morning. Same routine. Same life.
He walked to the washroom, half-asleep. A few quiet minutes passed as he tried to wake himself up. Then brushing his teeth, moving like a machine, doing what he always did without thinking.
When he finally looked up, his reflection stared back at him.
Twelve years old.
Tired eyes.
Messy red hair.
He looked just like his father.
Ran stared for a moment longer, then sighed softly.
"Still me… nothing changes."
When he stepped back into his room, his father was already standing at the doorway, fully dressed for work.
"Time to get ready, son. You'll be late," his father said calmly.
Ran froze for a second.
The new school.
His chest tightened.
"Dad… I don't want to go," he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.
His father's expression stiffened just a little.
"You have to, Ran. Education is important. This isn't a choice."
Ran looked down. He already knew arguing wouldn't change anything.
"…Okay, Dad."
His father stepped closer and placed a firm hand on his shoulder.
"Listen carefully," he said, his voice lower now. "There's been a serial killer in the city. I don't want you wandering around. Stay alert. Stay with people. And come straight home after school."
A chill ran down Ran's spine.
"Okay… I will."
"Good. Now eat quickly. I'll drop you."
---
Twenty minutes later, they were in the car.
The ride was quiet.
Ran stared out the window while his father gripped the steering wheel tightly. His knuckles had turned pale, like he was holding onto something more than just control of the car.
"I worry about you," his father suddenly said.
Ran didn't respond.
"Your mother trusted me," he continued, his voice heavier now. "She trusted me to take care of you… to make sure you grow into something great."
Ran's throat tightened.
"She may not be here," his father said softly, "but one day… when you achieve something in life… our names should live through you."
Ran nodded slowly.
He understood.
But it felt like too much.
Too heavy for someone like him.
---
The car came to a stop.
Ran looked up.
The school stood tall in front of him — a massive red-brick building. At the top, the Indian flag waved proudly in the wind.
It felt… intimidating.
"Go on," his father said gently.
Ran picked up his bag and opened the door.
"I love you, son."
Ran paused.
His hand tightened slightly on the bag strap.
But the words didn't come out.
They never did.
Not since his mother died.
Without turning back, he stepped out of the car and started walking toward the school.
"Ran…" his father called out, his voice slightly broken. "Just… tell me I'm your dad."
Ran stopped for a second.
His heart felt heavy.
But he didn't turn around.
He couldn't.
Instead, he kept walking.
---
The school hallways were loud and chaotic.
Students laughed, talked, ran past him — like they all belonged here.
Ran didn't.
He walked quietly, trying not to be noticed.
At lunch, he sat alone, opening his lunchbox slowly.
Before he could take a bite—
A hand suddenly grabbed it.
"Hey!"
Ran looked up.
A group of older boys stood there. One of them, bigger than the rest, smirked as he held Ran's lunch.
"Thanks for the food," he said mockingly.
The others laughed.
Ran clenched his fists.
"Give it back."
But they were already walking away.
His face burned.
Anger. Shame. Helplessness.
Why him?
Why always him?
---
When school ended, his father was already waiting in the parking lot.
Ran quietly got into the car.
"How was your day?" his father asked.
Ran stared ahead.
"…Just drive," he said softly. "I'll tell you at home."
The car moved forward.
And once again…
Silence filled the space between them.