He is eleven. Words still do not come easy to him -they never have- but it is years later, and he is of an age where the understanding of more complex words should be registering in his head.

His parents are worried. Tobio knows. Because for as subtle as the adults are not; Kageyama Tobio is not as blind as they seem to think he is.

He knows there is something not adding up in his head- that there is something inherently missing from his make up. But, for the life of him; he cannot locate the problem. (There isn't one, he thinks, scowling when another torchlight is shone into his eyes.)

Unsurprisingly, as time goes on and the amount of prodding doctors he visits increases; nothing improves.

Words get even harder to grasp onto when they drift even further out of his reach, and when it comes to talking; they all race towards his throat, and- he chokes.

Things, understandably, get worse after that particular episode.

"The boy is not normal, Masaru!"

(He stops and peeks around the corner.)

"What does it matter? He is still your son!"

(The boy watches as his father clenches his fists in anger, and shoots the woman who looks eerily similar to his mother; a look Tobio has only ever seen once.)

"He is yours."

(It's enough for him to know something is very, very wrong.)

"No son of mine could ever be so slow-!"

(His ears are suddenly ringing- the vase his obaasan gifted them lays smashed at his feet.)

"Get out."

(The.. feeling he gets whenever he tries to talk comes rushing in, and he is lost.)

"Masaru, I-"

(Because he is at home, his supposed sanctuary. So why can he not breathe-?)

"If he is not your son- then I am not your husband! Now GET OUT!"

(He doesn't even feel the broken ceramic pieces digging into his knees as everything goes black.)

"Tobio...? Tobio!"

One of the very first things he'd learnt- years ago when he was but a pre-teen; was that colour is commonly used as a physical representation of emotion. It's why, when he stares down at the writing in his book, he isn't surprised to see it riddle to the brim with all different shades and hues of blue.

...

(Ironically, the first colour he uses is a bland, pale, pale, pale shade of Sadness.)

...

His fingers won't stop shaking.

It is silent, save for the light pattering of rain outside of his window, but he can only focus on the blank page before him.

There isn't, he can't- he doesn't know what to write, and-

"Hey my name is tobio

okaasan is gone where is she why did she leave

stupidstupid ur fault"

The notebook goes flying across his room and he's left alone in the dark of his room with only the sounds of his angry huffs to keep him company.

(Not even a minute later does he open the ruffled book and frantically scratch out the last sentence. It's then slammed shut, shoved under his bed, and forgotten about for the next two years.)

It is the middle of a school term when he leaves.

"I'm sorry, Tobio."

His red eyes stare at the man in the drivers seat, heavy in their gaze and conveying the words he yet again can't seem to form.

"You're going to love your new school- I promise."

All he does is look out the window.

(He hates it.)