Refuge

The rain. Rain. Rain. More rain. My bandages aren't holding. Water's running down my bruised face. The road to my shelter is still long, the line I was taking just a few months ago is closed.

The rain. People are getting used to it. Alarms are constantly sounding in all the influential neighbourhoods of the capital, and at every street corner lately. The multi-coloured neon-lit billboards are gradually changing into warnings while taking a dark red turn. Tokyo is much less welcoming than on the various brochures I found on the internet.

Lost in these flashy colors, I lose my balance and knock over a garbage can. A heavy satchel falls on the ground, the noise emitted sounds like a bag of coins. Although I have difficulty bending over, it seems necessary for some reason. I would open it when I got home. I feel a constant sense of oppression ever since that day. That was three months ago. A lightning bolt of immense size struck various places in the capital: many Shinto shrines were targeted, but none of them were damaged. There were many power cuts, then it started raining, and the rivers and canals overflowed. This torrential rain caused the flooding of the Yamanote Line, where the evacuation was the target of many media. The total death toll was nineteen, with several hundred injured throughout the region. Since then, the sun has not returned. Finally, we can sometimes see some lightening on the flagship monuments of Tokyo. It's intriguing, but it is perhaps and perhaps even natural. Unfortunately, my life is far from being a monument.

I finally get to the building where I'm staying. Seeing the number of rusty elements, cracked slabs, it doesn't take a genius to understand that this place is not maintained. I was taken in by a family when I arrived in Tokyo at the beginning of the school year(1). They will be leaving the area at the end of this year, so I could find a place to live if I get my BAC. That's my main goal today.

I'm putting the key in the lock. The door opens easily. Plus, anyone could break that door down.

- What? A handgun with multiple rounds of ammunition can be unlocked through the satchel opening. With my eyes glued to the weapon like a criminal, I pondered the many possibilities now available to me.

- Bullshit! I shouted, before throwing away the satchel, which opened on impact with the old parquet floor. The gun and some ammunition come out.

My "parents" have been away for a while, they've given me the apartment. As a result, I am considered by the landlord as the only tenant, even my phone number has been registered. My only companion at the moment is Miku, the famous Japanese vocalist. So they turned her into an AI, Artificial Intelligence, whose main purpose was to help the Hikikomori get out of their rooms. I walk into the living room, which is about twenty square meters.

- I'm surprised they want to move somewhere else... Miku, what's new today?

- You have three new messages on the networks: Gmail, Yahoo!, Line! Do you want me to read them out loud?

- Yeah, go ahead.

- Dear Jiraya Desmondes, your Viagra order has arrived...

- Next! I cry out to the hologram in a trembling voice. Really, he doesn't need that.

- Message from Biopac127 to LodAkA47. Topic: How to cut your veins without pain: "So for that you follow my referral link and you'll get lots of info promised ;) »

The link redirected to a suicide help site. So it was useless. I'll put the gun in my class bag, just in case. Nothing is safe in this school, and then, freeing myself under any circumstances is not to be refused.

- Message from ID19812 to LodAkA47. "Good evening, in spite of your disastrous altercation this morning, we still had afternoon classes instead of the daily clubs. We formed working groups and I find myself with Hikari and you, because we are in odd numbers now. See you tomorrow at 3pm in room 210 " Reading finished!

I was stunned. That last message had left me speechless. For once, I'm not going to be the only hard worker or the only whipping boy. Hikari is one of those students who don't follow the movement, and who manage to avoid any incident like this morning, it is necessary to believe that putting back his glasses is not necessarily a sign of stupidity. A great reader and subscriber to dozens of magazines dealing with paranormal phenomena, he never stops bringing his strawberry to class. As for the famous ID19812, it is a safety device that has become compulsory in recent years. When you contact someone on a social network, you appear anonymously. Thus, the recipient has to rename us, and for that, if we need to see each other. Knowing the students in my class, I suspect Hina is the sender. If that's the case, I highly doubt that she would stoop to the level of these oddballs. Before I lost my temper, I couldn't look away from this radiant face, I felt like a force that prevented me from concentrating on anything else.

- In many countries this is called love at first sight!

- I didn't ring your bell!

- Sleep mode: activated!

- Whispering is not good for your health.

However, how will they look at me after this morning's incident? Will I be able to look them in the face? I throw myself into bed, before remembering my math homework for the next day. I look for my notebook among about thirty magazines dedicated to Japanese pop culture. Some magazines don't belong here, especially since there's a shelf free.

- Finally, this is not the time to tidy up... I tell myself, convincingly to avoid any weight on my conscience.

A ray of sunlight pierces the thick dark clouds, before reaching my hand. Symbol of a bright future? No, it makes you wonder if life is worth living. I open my notebook and begin the exercises on the Nepean logarithm.

(1) In Japan, the school year starts at the beginning of April. Here, beginning of April 2020.