The sky was clear, that day.

He was ten years old.

Yuuya’s legs kicked out as he held his glasses up to his face, pulled them away, and put them close again. The lenses punched holes through the threads, and he was enjoying making the holes expand and contract with the power of perspective.

His brother had taken him to the park to play, but Yuuya wasn’t in the mood, so he just laid in his brother’s lap and played with his glasses. His brother stroked the short hairs of Yuuya’s buzz cut with one long-fingered hand and held his cell phone to his ear with the other. There was screaming and shouting all around them, from playing children and happy groups enjoying the sunshine.

“Hanako-chan must be the greatest beauty in the world,” his brother cooed.

Yuuya couldn’t hear his girlfriend on the other end, beyond a small indistinguishable babble.

“Ehh, Friday? I can’t! Unfortunately, I’ll be going to the beach with my beautiful perfect angelic Yuu-chan! Can’t it be on some other day?”

His brother is four years older than him, so he was fourteen, then.

“Ahh…’Who’s more important’, really? Can’t I value different things differently?”

His brother’s hair was pale, and the sun lit it up from overhead. Yuuya tilted his glasses and his head to look over his brother.

There wasn’t a thread there, though.

“Answer…? Aahh, aahh…”

Yuuya tilted his head all the way up to look behind him.

There wasn’t a thread there either.

“Well, it’s Yuu-chan, obviously?”

His brother’s phone beeped, and the hand on Yuuya’s head tapped twice. His brother frowned at his phone, then at Yuuya.

“…She hung up.”

Yuuya slipped the glasses back onto his and blinked up at his brother. He remembers the way his glasses reflected the grass below them, and how the light refracted the image of the sun leaking through the leaves of the tree above them, he remembers the way it hit his brother’s hair, white, but with shades of red-pink, like a scar. But Yuuya doesn’t remember his face, not quite.

It was probably rounder than it is now.

Yuuya rolled over until he was off his brother’s lap and laying with his back on the grass. He stared up at the sky.

“Haru-nii-san.”

“Yes?”

“You love your girlfriend?”

His brother threw his hands up in the air. “Of course I do. Hanako-chan, she’s y’know, like a breath of fresh air, and she’s beautiful on top of that, and her voice is like angel bells, and she’s reaaally good at math? On top of that—”

“Aren’t girlfriends supposed to be the person you love the most?”

“Ah…I guess?” His hands drooped.

“Then why’d you say you love me the most?”

His brother’s hands dropped all the way, and he cocked his head. Black eyes, Yuuya remembers, black eyes that look just like his.

“Hey, Yuu-chan. When you look around, what do you see?”

Yuuya looked around, at the park and the forest ringing it.

“…Trees?”

“Oh?”

“…And…a bunch of people.”

“Just people?”

“Yeah. It’s just people.”

His brother leaned forward and stretched his arm out to rub Yuuya’s shaved head softly. He could feel the thumbpad press against the bristles.

“It’d be nice if you could always think of it that way.”

Life didn’t get particularly better.

It didn’t get particularly worse.

But it’s still the last happy memory with his brother Yuuya has left, anyway.

Ding-dong.

The sound of the doorbell punctures Yuuya’s miasma of intentional misery like a blade.

His room is a disorienting catastrophe. Lipo-D bottles are everywhere, glowing in the light of what little mid-afternoon sun manages to get through the curtains. The streaks of sun spill over scattered papers, a maelstrom of pillows and blankets, and the television sitting on a wheeled stand, positioned in front of the door.

One of the blanket clusters that’s hidden in the shadows is a huge nest of about five fluffy quilts, spilling pillows like guts.

Out of the cluster pops Yuuya.

He drags himself over the carpet until he fully emerges from the blanket nest. The back of his throat feels terrible, his mouth is sour and sticky, and his eyes feel itchy. He lurches to his fee, and staggers towards the door. He shoves the TV stand away with one foot, and it collides with the wall.

Ding-dong.

“I hear you already!” Yuuya hollers at his ceiling.

Even knowing someone is waiting for him, he still heads to the washroom first. He’s not going to willingly inflict a conversation on himself while feeling this terrible.

Yuuya splashes his face with water and looks up at the mirror. He frowns. His eyes are red and puffy, still irritated from the hours of crying, even after sleeping in. He’d apply some of his mom’s makeup to cover it up, but, well, they’re irritated; he doesn’t want to make it worse.

With a sigh, he pulls himself away from the sink to get to the doo—

DING-DONG DING-DONG DING-DONG

“I GOT IT ALREADY!”

Yuuya dashes downstairs and slides up to the entranceway. He growls and whips the door open.

It’s Reliable Senpai.

Yuuya instinctively takes a step back, and his heart hammers in his chest like he had just opened the door to an axe murderer.

“…Reikawa-kun.”

Yuuya averts his eyes, conscious of the way Reliable Senpai’s eyes are drilling into him. His tongue runs over his snaggletooth. Too pressured to talk, he just nods.

“…I wanted to speak to you.”

“Wh-Wha…What ab-ab-about?”

“About what happened yesterday.”

He winces. Right. He was mostly concerned with existential dread and psychological fatigue from his separation from humanity, but he kind of slammed a girl’s head into the wall somewhere in there, didn’t he?

“I’m so- I’m very s-sorry. Is i— is she okay?”

“It’s okay, she got right back up, no damage. It seems the wall broke because it was soft to begin with.”

“Thass…That’s good.”

“Hey, Reikawa-kun…are you being bullied right now?”

“I’m n— I’m no— Immnn…”

Yuuya clicks his tongue with frustration and just shakes his head.

“I see…that’s good.” He looks so genuinely relieved. That’s a Reliable Senpai for you. “Like I said, if you need any help, you can come to the School Delegate Committee. It’s our job to uphold a good example for the students and the town around us alike. If you’re under stress—”

“I’m fine,” Yuuya grits.

“You’ve been crying.”

Yuuya’s hand whips up to his face to cover one of his still-puffy eyes. He scowls at Reliable Senpai’s shoes.

“…It’s noth—…It’s nothing…”

“You slammed a girl into a wall and skipped school for a day. If it’s not me checking up on you, it’s going to be a teacher. While I don’t think it’s fair to tell you to reach out to others and fix yourself right away, could you let me help you, just a bit?”

“W-What exactly are you sugggg…suggesting?”

“Well, Nashioka High School’s most important activity is its sports programs. I’m sure you could have an easier time socializing if you spend a little time experiencing them! Tomorrow my basketball team is having a game with another school. Why don’t you come and observe? I’ll be happy to see you, at least. You don’t have to come back to class right away, but…”

“Is it a Na-Nashioka school?” There’s only the two.

Reliable Senpai shakes his head. “Visiting from nearby.”

Yuuya deliberates. Outside the influence of the city, then. If they’re not here too long, they won’t be poisoned by the Narrative right away.

Basically…An opportunity to see normal people, for once…?

As if sensing Yuuya rise to the temptation, Reliable Senpai leans in close. He smells like healthy sweat, fresh laundry, and something slightly fruity. Yuuya blushes so furiously he’s a few degrees away from burning holes into his cheeks, and he pastes himself against the wall to avoid the proximity.

Reliable Senpai tilts his head imploringly.

“Please?”

Today is Ikegami Hiroto’s first basketball game.

Even though his uppclassmen all insisted he’ll be fine, he’s nervous. Can one skill really hold up in a proper game? He’s small, frail, and clumsy. He’s bound to drag everyone down, even though they’ve been working hard. He barely knows anything about basketball.

Hiroto stops in front of the doors. His hands are trembling. He wants to run away, but at the same time, he’s never wanted anything more than he wants to play. He squeezes his eyes shut and shoves his glasses up on his nose. Right…even if he fails here, he thinks he still wants to play basketball.

With a deep breath, he shoves the doors open, and then…

Someone more nervous appeared.

There’s another student barely any taller than he is, leaning against the wall and shivering. He’s shiny with sweat, and his entire face is pinched with a strange combination of terror and fierce determination. His hands are clutched around his arms, and he’s gradually sliding along, one heavy step at a time, looking for all the world like he’s about to cough up blood and collapse.

“A-Are you alright?” Hiroto asks.

The boy shrieks and flinches away, but since he’s already against the wall, he bangs his head. His glasses are knocked off his face, and he slides down to the ground.

“Oh, I’m sorry! Here…!”

He picks up the glasses and offer them up to the student. As he does so, he notes that there’s no distortion through the lenses; they’re just fashion glasses. Still, it wouldn’t do to have something you’re wearing get trampled on.

The boy doesn’t respond.

Hiroto cocks his head. Should he push it? Would it be rude to just…slide the glasses into the crook of his lap? Does he need alone time, or a helping hand? He’s not used to helping people. He’s a loser who doesn’t get along well with anyone.

“Ahh…I was worried this would happen.”

Hiroto looks up. “Tachibana-senpai!”

Tachibana Takumi is the most reliable member of the basketball team, even though he’s also a member of the School Delegate Committee. He was the only on who could convince Hiroto to join the basketball team. If there’s a kid this nervous lurking about, it’s no wonder Tachibana-senpai knows who he is.

“Sorry. I’m the one who invited him,” Tachibana-senpai waves.

“Is he here to observe?”

“He’s having trouble socializing. I thought he might have an easier time hanging around somewhere where everyone has a common interest.”

“I see…”

“…This was a mistake.”

The two look at the student. His shoulders are trembling. His fingers are pressed white against his knees, and Hiroto can’t tell if it’s with fear, anger, or a combination of the two.

“Reikawa-kun…?”

The boy — Reikawa? — jabs his arm out and shows Tachibana-senpai an open palm.

“Compensation.”

Tachibana-senpai blinks. “H-Huh?”

“Compensation!” Reikawa-san barks. “Compensation for menta- mental duress! Compensate me for making me come to school and having everyone stare at me…!”

“How about your compensation is the friends you make while you’re here?”

“I’m seriously gonna kick your ass.”

Hiroto blinks too. He seemed as nervous as Hiroto was, but the rage is strong in Reikawa-san’s voice. Hiroto was under the impression angry people don’t get anxiety. Even Tachibana-senpai looks concerned.

“Fine, fine…well, I don’t have any money, so is this okay?”

Tachibana-senpai places a basketball phone charm into Reikawa-san’s waiting palm.

Reikawa-san peaks at it from behind his fringe. He’s got a dull face, but the freckles on his cheeks are stark against his pale skin. His small black eyes examine the charm with a deliberate coldness that makes Hiroto a little uneasy.

Then Reikawa-san’s face scrunches up in embarrassment, and slowly, gradually, his entire face flushes red.

“…This is fine,” he mumbles, shoving the charm into his pocket.

“Good! Now why don’t you go observe on the bleachers? I think you’ll be impressed with our performance!”

Reikawa-san climbs to his feet and slowly starts walking again, at a less glacial pace. There’s no tension whatsoever in his body, but it seems more of a zombie-like slump than a lack of stress.

“If I’m not, are you going to compensate me again…?”

Tachibana-senpai’s ever-sharp eyes glint dangerously. “Hmm…Reikawa-kun, are you interested in compensation dating?”

Reikawa-san’s body freezes up. He subsequently loses his balance, trips over his own feet, and falls face-first on the floor.

“Hooohh.”

Hiroto looks at Tachibana-senpai. He’s smirking, a little darkly, observing Reikawa-san like an experiment that has just done something interesting. It’s not a cruel look, but it’s not a comforting one, either.

Hiroto swallows thickly.

Tachibana-senpai…is surely a good person, though. Probably.

This was a mistake this was a mistake this was a mistaaaaake.

Yuuya curls up on the bleachers with his hands stuffed in his armpits. He feels like he wants to cry again. While the basketball team gets to play against those super-valuable normal people, Yuuya is stuck up here with a bunch of students who are wholesale Narrative puppets. As glorious as it is to see people again, there’s really no point if he can’t talk to them. It’s like reminding him of what he can’t have.

They don’t look all that different from the puppet-humans around them.

The game starts. The gross disgusting intrusive piece of garbage in a trashcan Tachibana isn’t the captain, surprisingly, but Yuuya supposes he can’t, when he’s part of two clubs. He seems to be more like the moral glue that holds the team together. Then there’s that kid from earlier, the one with the curly dark teal hair and the glasses. He’s a Protagonist, clearly about to grow into his skill with the help of one hyper-specific talent he has. Good luck in the future, asshole.

After a few minutes, the inevitable happens:

“It’s weird…that one player seems to be everywhere at once…!”

“That’s Tachibana Takumi! He’s one of Nashi High’s ace players, because of that weird skill of his…the Tracking Eye.”

Thanks for the infodump, jackass. Go die.

“Tracking Eye?”

“It’s a technique of theirs…Tachibana-senpai has an unusually high perception ability. He can totally track and predict a single person’s movements. He can’t focus on anyone else, but with it, he can read the flow of the game!”

Shut the fuck up. That’s stupid. This is stupid.

“Amazing…!”

“But that’s not what’s turning the tide of the battle.”

Hooooooly shiiiiiiiiiit.

“What do you mean?”

“It’s that new player…haven’t you noticed yet?”

Yuuya looks down at the court. He’s fast. It’s blatantly obvious. Look at him go. He’s like a bullet. He’s also really good at avoiding collisions, which makes him an incredibly efficientbullet. When he dribbles the ball, it’s in huge bounces that fly across the court, and he’s so fast he’s the only one who can keep up, unless someone comes to intercept. It makes it hard to predict the ball’s movement, and to steal it away. It’s not a bad skill for basketball.

“That guy is—”

“He’s fast! We get it already!” Yuuya barks. “Just enjoy the game normally! Your friend can use his own damn eyes! What is he, some blind infant?”

They both turn to look at him. He snarls back, refusing to be cowed, though the wave of tension at being looked at still happens anyway.

“He’s new to basketball, so…”

“Let him learn by himself! What else are we supposed t’d- to glean by a guy dribbling a ball by chucking it everywhere? Use your co- common sense!”

“Okay, I’m sorry! Relax!”

Yuuya pulls his feet back up so he can curl back into his neutral position of ‘grumpy ball’.

The game goes well, naturally, seeing as the other team is made up of normal, real, actual people with no special abilities. Their only real challenge will be Nashioka’s other, richer school.

At the end of the match, they pull some epic move or something — Yuuya wasn’t really paying attention — and win the game.

The two teams chat for a bit, and the other team leaves. Yuuya stares after them. He doesn’t really have the confidence to approach them, but he can sort of see the appeal of hanging around sports clubs now. Who knows what odd baseball or volleyball member from the outside world might be ready to chat Yuuya up.

But then they’d have to go back, eventually.

Yuuya stares blankly off into space, overcome by the powerful feeling of melancholy.

On TV, characters who ‘snapped’ always get a clean transition. They’re consumed with rage or depression, insensible, ‘gone to far’, or something like that. When characters snap, a part of them breaks.

But that’s not what he felt. It just felt like a stress overflow, and now that it’s over, his stress isn’t actually any lower. The catharsis and understanding what was bothering him so badly is only going to keep him stable for so long, and then the overflow is going to happen again, and again and again and again, until he destroys himself, and he still can’t do anything about it. He’s deadlocked into a downward spiral.

It’s right about now where suicide ideation usually starts looking really attractive. Yuuya is too occupied with being angry to get to that point, but he knows it’s coming.

“Reikawa-kun!”

Yuuya pulls his head out from between his legs and glares down at Garbage Senpai.

“…What do you want.”

“I thought of a good relationship-training exercise.”

“Go die.”

“Even if you were bullied, you’ve got a harsh attitude. You should try to avoid picking fights like that.”

“Die already.”

“Am I meant to apologize, here, then?”

“Sure. Dogeza. Do it.”

“How extreme.”

“Sliding dogeza!”

“Hey now, don’t increase the severity! I’ll wreck my knees!”

Yuuya stuffs his head between his knees and pulls his jacket over himself like a cloak.

“You’re quite the troubled child, aren’t you. Reikawa-kun.”

Yuuya doesn’t answer, and doesn’t react to the sound of Trashbasket Senpai ascending the stairs. He grips his ankles tighter and steadfastly ignores Large Bucket Full Of Bile Senpai coming in close enough that his breath ruffles Yuuya’s hair.

“I’m sorry. It was wrong of me to tease you. The contrast in the way you spoke was so weird, I thought it would be interesting to push you a little.”

Yuuya’s head whips up so he can give Tachibana a livid look.

Tachibana snorts into his palm.

Yuuya kicks him in the head.

“Bastard! Don’t you get the m-meaning of compensation? It means you ought to be givi- giving me shit for mistreating me! Are you mistreating a bullying victim? Pay me back! Pay me back, I’m going home! Piece of shit! Go die! Die die die die die!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Tachibana begs, but he’s laughing, so Yuuya ignores his pleas for mercy and continues to kick him in the head. Harder this time.

“OOIII! TACHIBANA!”

They both look down. The captain is on the court, glaring up at them.

“Yeah? Captain!”

“Stop playing around! You said you wanted to double down on practice no matter what, right?”

“Let me rest a little?”

“You call that resting?”

Yuuya’s shoe is embedded in Tachibana’s cheek.

“Well, I’m feeling pretty refreshed, so it’s the same thing.”

Yuuya shoves the heel of his foot into Tachibana’s eye. “It is not, you damn bastard!”

Tachibana just chuckles again and pushes Yuuya’s foot away effortlessly. “I’m starting to understand why you were bullied in the first place. Let me guess, someone was being a little mean and you lost it, right? I thought you were scared I’d hurt you when I found you on the roof, but it’s more like you only know how to solve problems with violence. Right? Am I right?”

“Leave me alone!”

”You should probably get a healthier outlet for all that aggression, first. How about you try a game with us?”

Yuuya struggles against Tachibana’s grip. “I don’t know how to play basketball!”

“Neither does Ikegami-kun, but he’s one of our aces already! Isn’t that cool?”

“He’s a protagonist! It’s not the same!”

“What’s that, ‘protagonist’…”

Tachibana uses his grip on Yuuya’s leg to pull him closer, and he leans forward. Yuuya plasters himself against the bench and tilts his head away, desperately considering spitting in Tachibana’s face.

“…Please?”

“So you got sucked into his pace too, huh.”

Yuuya, in a T-shirt and jersey slacks, gives the basketball captain a look that could curdle milk. Or he’s trying to, but he’s being stared at by a lot of people, and is mostly struggling with his blush and keeping his knees from giving out.

The captain just laughs. “He’s pretty annoying when he wants to be, right? Well, he’s genuinely worried about you. The fact he can’t help but stick his nose into problem students’ business is why he’s part of that committee to begin with.”

“I’m gonna kick his ass.”

“You and everyone else.”

They’re standing on the court, opposite the other half of the basketball team, where Tachibana is smiling and waving. Yuuya has broken out into a cold sweat again. The protagonist is on his side, but it’s a weak comfort. And a potential point of horror.

“…I don’t think this is a good idea.”

“Hm? Why?”

“I have no presence…It’s a ba- a- it’s a bad idea to put me anywhere as a- as active as a basketball court.”

“Eh…wouldn’t it be useful?”

“No, you don’t understand, people don’t—”

The whistle blows, and the game starts with a jarring rush. Yuuya can visibly see everyone forget about his existence, despite how big a deal Tachibana made of him being there. He stands in place, staring blankly at the students dashing around the court, all of them totally oblivious to his presence. Even if he expected this, it still stings a little.

Yuuya tries to avoid the ball and the group, but there’s still people sticking to his side, and predictably, laser-like focus on an object combined with him being present are a terrible combination.

Barely a minute into the game and a player runs full-speed into him.

Yuuya goes flying, nearly off the court entirely, and he grits his teeth at the bloom of pain from the collision with the floor.

“Sorry! Are you okay?”

He gives him a screaming grunt in lieu of answer.

The ball gets closer to their side of the court, and the guy completely forgets Yuuya is there and moves to block it. Yuuya rolls over and grinds his head into the floor, trying to work through the pain enough to get up. It feels like a full five minutes before he can recover. He’s…way frailer than expected, actually. He’s used to being shoved around, but he’s never been hurt, mostly because he stabs them before they can manage to topple him over.

Agreeing to this was a mistake.

Yuuya tries to keep his eyes on the rest of the court, barely avoiding someone sprinting right past him, diving away from the cluster around the ball, ducking away from stray elbows. He almost has a rhythm down, up until someone throws the ball and it drives like a bullet into his side.

Yuuya hits the floor again.

This whole thing was a mistake.

He slowly gets back up. That didn’t hurt nearly as much as being thrown into the floor by another human body, at least. He groans and tries to circle around the group.

A shoulder collision.

An elbow to the kidneys.

Stumbling over his feet.

Someone backhanding him across the face.

Yuuya clings to the edge of the court, clutching his throbbing body. He knew this was going to happen, but he still let himself get suckered in, like an over-trusting housewife to a conman. This is on him. And Tachibana. In fact, it’s entirely Tachibana’s fault. He’s the one who made him come to begin with! To hell with Tachibana!

“What are you doing, Reikawa-kun?”

“Eh…?”

Tachibana is holding the ball, and looking straight at him.

“…Eh?”

“You have to participate too!”

Yuuya flusters at the gaze, and then at the sudden pressure to perform. He struggles to stand up straight, and holds his hands up, assuming he’s about to be passed to.

He is.

And in a variation from the usual injuries from not noticing he was there, Yuuya gets a ball colliding full-speed with his face out of mere incompetence.

Yuuya is sent sprawling out of the court bounds, and he goes skidding a good three metres. He sees the blood splatters and broken glass across the floor before the pain hits him, and when it does…

“Uuu…uuagh— UuuuuaAAAH!”

It hurts.

His nose is the worst of it, and probably where all the immediate blood came from. He’s not sure if it’s broken, but it’s throbbing with pain that radiates across his entire face, and the feeling of it makes him shake with hiccuping sobs.

The rest of it is the cuts from his cheap glasses. Only one lens broke, and it sliced up his cheekbone; when he touches it, his fingers come off covered in blood.

“Reikawa-kun!”

The pain is too much, and he gives up control entirely and starts bawling. Tachibana grabs him by the shoulders and tries to shake a response out of him, but he’s insensible. He can’t stop.

He’s gently guided to his feet, and walked out of the gymnasium with an arm slung around his shoulder, clutching him comfortingly. Yuuya gravitates towards the warmth. He’s still clutching his face, and the blood is dribbling between his fingers and falling to the floor.

After a series of hallways Yuuya can’t even begin to comprehend, they stop at the infirmary. The pain isn’t as immediate, now, and his nose feels more sore than broken, but he can’t stop crying. It’s probably stress.

“I’m sorry, I should have been more careful,” Tachibana frets.

Yuuya looks at him through the cracked glass of his remaining lens. Tachibana looks genuinely worried, consumed with empathy, as if he weren’t harassing him and implying Yuuya was fishing for a sugar daddy only a little bit earlier today.

Yuuya looks away and mops his tears with the neck of his shirt. It comes away bloodstained.

He’s guided all the way to the bed, and Yuuya backs all the way up to the pillow and burrows himself under the blankets. He listens to Tachibana explain what happened, and lets the nurse pluck the glasses off his face and mop up the blood. He winces when the cut is disinfected, and again when a plaster is applied.

Yuuya spends a while just staring at the ceiling. When he hears Tachibana leave, he bites down on his lip until the pain feels roughly equal to the pain coming from his nose.

This whole thing was a mistake.

He rolls over, and uses the excuse of the pain to let out a few broken, frustrated sobs.

He wants to go home.