Yoshi Toru walked through the halls of his high school, his head low, his eyes fixed on the ground. The flickering lights overhead cast a cold, sterile glow. Each step he took felt heavier than the last, but no one seemed to notice. He was a shadow, moving through the crowd unnoticed. And that was exactly how he preferred it.
No one spoke to him. No one looked at him. It was the same every day. He didn't mind. It was easier this way, to be invisible. To not have to deal with anyone. The other students, they didn't understand him. They didn't want to. And Yoshi didn't want to explain himself to them.
His world had turned grey long ago. He couldn't remember a time when it was colorful, full of hope or joy. The memories of his past—the pain, the hurt, the isolation—had drained him of everything that made life feel worth living. His heart had grown numb. It wasn't just the bullying at school or the lack of friends. It was his family, too.
His mother's voice haunted him. "You shouldn't have been born." Those words echoed in his mind constantly, until they felt like a part of him. It wasn't just something she said when she was angry. It was a deep-rooted belief that he had never been wanted. That he had always been a mistake.
The day his father killed his mother was the day the color in his world disappeared. He was just five years old. He didn't remember much of what happened that day, just the aftermath. The cold silence. The emptiness. It had all led to this moment. His life had been one long, unchanging blur of grey, and he had long ago accepted that this was all he deserved.
When Yoshi returned home from school, his new family was there. They weren't perfect, but they gave him a roof over his head. Mika, his three-year-old step-sister, was always there, waiting for him at the door.
"Yoshi," she called out, looking up at him with wide, worried eyes. "Are you okay? You look... sad."
Yoshi didn't answer right away. He never did. His words felt empty. He nodded quietly, trying to reassure her.
Mika was so small, but she always seemed to know when something was wrong. She clung to his sleeve, gazing up at him with concern.
"You don't smile anymore," she said, her innocent voice full of worry. "Don't you want to play?"
Yoshi didn't feel like playing. He didn't feel like anything. The words didn't come. But when he looked at Mika's face, full of care, he felt a brief pang of something—something he couldn't explain.
"I'm fine, Mika," he said quietly. He wasn't, but he didn't know how to tell her. She seemed to understand, though. She didn't ask more questions. She just hugged him tightly.
"I'm here, Yoshi. I'll always be here."
For a moment, Yoshi allowed himself to feel something—a warmth that didn't feel as cold as his heart usually did. He didn't smile, but he didn't pull away. And that, somehow, felt like progress.
The next day, Yoshi sat in class, staring out the window. He always did. It was easier than facing the people around him. His classmates laughed, chatted, and lived their lives, but Yoshi stayed in his own world, a world of silence and isolation.
Then she appeared.
Shiori Aiko, the class president. She was popular, confident, and always surrounded by others. But when she walked into the classroom that day, something caught Yoshi's attention. She didn't ignore him like the others. She didn't look away. Instead, she smiled at him.
"Hi, I'm Shiori Aiko," she said, walking up to his desk. "You don't talk to anyone, do you?"
Yoshi didn't respond at first. He wasn't sure how. Why was she talking to him? Why was she smiling at him like she wasn't afraid of him?
"I see you sitting alone all the time," she said, her voice friendly and open. "I know you don't want to talk, but... if you ever change your mind, I'm here."
Yoshi stared at her, unsure of what to say. He didn't want to talk to her. He didn't want anyone to talk to him. But for some reason, he didn't push her away. There was something different about her—something he couldn't put into words. She didn't seem to judge him. She just seemed... kind.
Shiori gave him one last smile before walking away. Yoshi watched her, his mind in a daze. Why didn't he want to hate her for talking to him? Why didn't he feel irritated by her presence?
Later that night, as Yoshi lay in bed, he tried to sleep. But the memories were always there, waiting for him in the dark. The words. The images. His mother's angry voice. "You shouldn't have been born." They played in his mind, over and over again, like a broken record.
He tried to shut it all out, but it never worked. The pain of his past always lingered.
But tonight, something was different. The memory of Shiori's smile lingered in his mind, too. The thought of her words, her kind eyes, stayed with him longer than anything else. Could it be? Could someone really care about him? Was it possible for him to feel something other than pain?
Yoshi didn't know. But for the first time in a long time, he felt a small spark of hope. It wasn't much. It was tiny. But it was enough to make him wonder.
The next morning, Mika was waiting at the door again. Her small smile greeted him as he walked in.
"You look a little better today, Yoshi!" she said, her voice bright with hope.
Yoshi nodded. He wasn't sure why he felt different, but he did. It wasn't a big change, but something inside him had shifted. He didn't know what to call it. But maybe, just maybe, things didn't have to stay grey forever.
Mika reached up and hugged him tightly. "Don't be sad, Oni-chan. I'll always be here for you."
Yoshi didn't pull away. He didn't smile. But he didn't need to. The small warmth from Mika's hug, the soft promise in her voice, was all he needed for now.
Maybe, just maybe, the world could change. Maybe, just maybe, he could move forward.
End of Prologue.