"What's your biggest secret?"

Straight across the circle from Chuuya, Yuan had asked the group of friends.

"Probably stealing a random credit card and buying a shit ton of clothes with it."

Peeped from one of the girls around of the circle. Mei, a younger girl with dark and poofy hair. She had darker skin too, unlike most of Yokohama.

"Mine is the same, except buying a ton of vapes with it." Said Shirase, sitting next to Chuuya and leaning on his side with his arm on his shoulder. "I think I made the whole family cry... I didn't know they were in need of toilet paper..."

Chuuya shook his head, rolling his eyes. "We aren't just some juvenile criminals stealing the citizen's belongings? You guys should do better."

They were all currently at their hangout; The Sheep.

It consisted of graffiti, bright colors, poorly made machines that worked very well, baggy clothes, and run-down sofa's. It was a small space that was barely noticeable, hidden behind and shut out from the world behind these two great and large pillars underneath a bridge holding up a train.

It was the perfect place for all of them, all 13. There were 7 girls and 6 boys; all consisting of kids who are discriminated against, coming from bad families, treated like garbage, or aren't getting the government support that they need.

"But— Chuuya!" Yuan said, and she pointed towards him, "you must have a secret? Don't you..." She then leaned forward, though the circle was too big for her to be any close to him.

"Chuuya, what's you're biggest secret?

Suddenly, the World started to spin on its axis.

Or—has it always been doing that?

He could feel gravity coming at him from all angles, and he wished that he could just push it off of him, just get the pressure off of him and fly away. Fly through the air seamlessly and unoppressed. Not be pressed down and forced by an unknown force.

"I—I...I..."

He tried to speak, but nothing really came to mind.

Secrets?

He thought.

What the point in having secrets?

I don't have any secrets.

"I...It's.. I—I don't, I—"

ding!

He was interrupted by a notification on his phone.

ding!

And, then another notification. Only, it wasn't his phone. It's was somebody else's. ding! ding! ding! Phones just start notifying all around the entire group, and everybody's attention was suddenly directed from the small scene to the little screens in their hands.

"What?!" Suddenly one of the kids said.

"W—what is it?" Chuuya said, still shaken up; not knowing why he was though.

"Look at your email, we have an assignment over the weekend."

"Huh?!" Chuuya said, unbelieving. He quickly pulled up his email and looked at the notification, and— huh.

Well, shit.

Hi, kiddos.

We are going to be having a guest speaker on Monday, he told me he wanted each of you guys and gals to make a "table" for him. Whatever that may mean to you, is up to you, and he will grade you on Monday.

Good luck.

Mr. Kunikida

"A guest speaker?" Peeped a boy named Kai from the small circle. "What could that mean?"

"Who do you think it is?" Yuan asked, looking up from her phone.

"I don't know." Chuuya said, shrugging and putting his phone away. "But whoever it is we're gonna knock his socks off his feet. We're gonna make the best fucking table this guy's ever seen."

The kids around the group each smirked and smiled victoriously, some cracking their knuckles dramatically as if they were about to jump some bozo.

"Well?" Chuuya asked, quirking a brow to the kids, "what're we waiting for? Let's to get to the scrap yard!"

9 years ago

"What're you doing?"

Paul slammed his board down, the tail hitting the pavement of the driveway and leaving him in a pose where his right foot stood up in the air and the other stayed on the ground.

"Why are you asking, Chuu?"

"Just wondering..." The boy shrugged, walking forward and to his brother. He looked to the skateboard, a questioning look stretching his face. "Why does it look like that?"

"Like what?"

"Like..." Chuuya bent down, reaching out and gently rubbing his tiny fingers against the grit of the board. "Like... that."

By that, he meant the look of the board.

The board worked, it was just... well, it didn't look like it would. The thing had cracks in it, was partially broken in the middle, barely held up, the old spray paint was half chipped off everywhere you'd look— and, frankly, it was pretty ugly.

"You mean the grit? That's so my feet don't slip off the board, silly." Paul laughed, letting the other tail hit the ground and causing the little brother to jump back a bit.

"No, no, not that. It's— it's the... the board looks so— so ugly..."

That made Paul laugh even harder. "Ugly?" He asked, then taking the board out from his feet and hugging it to his chest as if it were his child. "Martha isnt ugly, she's always been beautiful. She's just been through a lot. The more you go through, the more tougher on the the outside you get. And if not the outside, then the inside." He winked, using his pointer finger to tap the others chest— though, Chuuya didn't understand what he meant.

All he could think about was, "you seriously named your skateboard?"

"What?" Paul asked, holding his skateboard up, showcasing it to Chuuya. "Does she not look like a Martha?"

Quirking a brow, Chuuya turned his head. "You sure are weird."

"Says the kid who got caught humping pillows."

Chuuya suddenly felt flushed, looking up to his brother. "Can you please drop that."

Paul laughed at him. "Nope! I will hold it against you forever." Paul then stepped forward, setting the skateboard on the ground. "But, enough of that, do you wanna learn how to skate?"

The little boy was caught between emotions. Mixed between whether he should be mad, sad, excited, or embarrassed. He felt so much as once, that he felt as if he didn't want to feel anything at all. He felt as if he wanted to hide but also wanted to run into somebody's arms, somebody he trusts. He just didn't know who to go to.

Reluctantly, the boy let the other take him by his side and lift him up on the skateboard. Paul had taught his little brother a lot that day, how to skate, how to move the board, how to push off, how to do the Ollie, ramp, everything. And eventually, Chuuya even became better than Paul himself.

Paul was satisfied with the relationship between him and his brother, even if Chuuya seemed a little reluctant at times.

"Ah, damnit!"

Chuuya yelled, dropping a piece of sharp metal out of his hands and onto the dirt ground.

"Chuuya?" Yuan asked, running over to the scene. "What's wrong?"

"I just accidentally cut my finger with this metal scrap. I didn't mean it, damnit."

Yuan looked to his fingers and indeed, she saw the issue. There was a huge gash on his middle finger, blood pouring out of it and dripping, streaming down all his other fingers.

"Chuu—" She frowned, taking the end of her shirt with no hesitation and using it to stop the blood. "You gotta be more careful. Take your time."

"I know." He said, a pout on his face.

"No more stubbornness."

He looked up, frowning to her.

She smiled. "Common, turn that frown upside down!" She said with a light voice.

Chuuya was thankful for Yuan, they had a good relationship and dynamic. She was his only ex relationship, and she still continues to act as his friend and like nothing ever happened between them.

He had been confused at the time, last year. Being introduced to the idea of "relationships" and how so many people in high school have them. He had asked Yuan out because he thought it was the normal thing to do if a guy and a girl are best friends.

He just... he had no idea about the dynamic between her and Shirase.

He's sort of a hopeless romantic, but he would never wanna be in a relationship. It's weird.

He sees all these couples in the hallways at the charter school holding hands, and he envies them. The idea of having somebody to go to. For anything; to hold you, to talk to, to have, to be with, to just be.

He wants.

But then when it comes to real life, he couldn't ever actually deal with it. He tried with Yuan, and Yuan tried it out as well, but they both knew it wouldn't be like that in the end; so they agreed with staying friends in the end.

Not even just romantic, but even a platonic relationship like that. Man, he loves the Sheep, but he couldn't ever tell them even half the shit that's gone down in his life.

"Thanks, Yuan." He said, genuinely.

She smiled in response, squeezing his hand.

In solution, she had cut a piece of her clothing for him and tied it around the wound. After, Chuuya turned around to a huge pile of scrap pieces of wood, metal, screws, and just garbage behind him he's collected.

Sighing, he nodded. "Let's get working."

"Mmmmm… no."

Dazai scrunched up the piece of paper, throwing it into his trash bin. Taking his pencil in hand, he began to sketch out another idea. About 5 minutes later, he looked at the sketch.

"Mmmmm…. No." He threw it at the trash bin, missing it and letting it bounce off into the pile of many scrunched up sketchbook papers.

He sighed, smashing his head onto his art table. "Uaghhhh!" He cried, "Why am I not getting a spark?" He then closed his eyes, thinking. "Common, Dazai. Think. Think."

His mind wandered and wandered, and suddenly— something caught his imagination. In the midst of the many fragments of his mind, a ginger haired; fiery-eyed creature came into sight.

The boy from the other day.

He remembered the boy. The angry, angry boy. The one that got angry for Dazai redesigning his project without consent.

Something about that— it caught his mind. Trapped it, like he caught a sacred treasure that no other pirate was supposed to be seeing. The anger, the resentment— the agony in his eyes. The blue, once innocent, but now angry eyes. For doing something so stupid as of refining his machine. It wasn't a matter of morals, but it was a matter of actions. He wasn't mad at him because of the design, he was mad at Dazai simply because the brunette hadn't asked if he could do it beforehand.

Now with a clear picture in mind, Dazai had inspiration.

Did he regret fixing that machine without consent?

Nope; that boy's face was priceless.

Was he going to use it as an inspiration for a design?

Yes.

Yes he was.

Now, with his pencil in hand; Dazai confidently started drawing again. And he was sure that this one was gonna be it. And it certainly was. Because— by the end of the design, he held the paper up and said,—

"Mmmmm…. Yes."

9 years ago

"Hi class, today we will be learning something special today."

All the kids in their seats started chatting, the room filled with whispers, cheers, and smiles.

Chuuya raised his hand.

"Yes, Chuuya?" Mrs. Naomi asked her student.

"So, that means no math today?" He asked, side-smirking.

Mrs. Naomi giggled, shaking her head, "Yes, Chuuya—" She then reached up, pulling down the smart board projector screen. "—that means no math or homework today."

Chuuya smiled. "Yay!" He cheered, throwing his arms up in fists while still in his seat. "So, is it a free day?"

"Nope!" Naomi said. "Today, is a very important day for all of you. We will be learning about—" She clicked on her computer, projecting a paused YouTube video showcasing big words Chuuya couldn't really read that well. (He wasn't good at reading.) "—abuse."

Slowly, the room started getting louder and louder with whispers and chatting.

"What's abuse, Mrs. Naomi?" One of the girls from the room piped up, asking the teacher.

"Abuse is a very bad thing. But— it's something you should all be educated about." She walked back over, taking a seat next to the screen with a big pointer in her hand. "Abuse is the act of somebody hurting somebody else. Raise your hand if you have ever hurt somebody."

Nobody rose their hand.

"None of you have hurt anybody? Oh, I doubt it. You know, I have hurt people."

"What?!" Some of the kids yelled, confused.

"Yes, I have." Naomi told them, nodding. "I have hurt people, many times. We all do, we just need to be strong enough to admit when we do. I once punched my mom on her arm when I was 10 years old. Isn't that mean?"

All the kids with wide-eyes, nodded their heads.

But— one of the boys with black hair nervously rose his hand.

"Yes, Jackson?"

"I once… I once pulled my sister's hair… w-we were— we were fighting…" He admitted, a bit ashamed.

"Good! Im actually proud for you admitting to that, Jackson. It's terrible you did that to your sister, but you should always admit to when you're wrong and never cover it up."

Chuuya rose his hand.

"Yes, Chuuya?"

"I once stabbed my brother with a pencil. He went to the hospital."

The teacher's eyebrows raised a bit, but she kept her cool. "Oh— wow! That must've been bad…"

All the kids slowly turned their heads to Chuuya, looking surprised from the little fella.

"A—anyways, what I was saying, is that we all hurt people. No matter how big or small sometimes, we all do it."

The tone suddenly changed.

"Raise your hand if somebody has hurt you."

Everybody in the room raised their hands. Everyone.

Well— everyone except Chuuya.

"So, I see everybody has been hurt, but— how can this be?" Naomi asked. "How can this be, that everybody is hurt, if nobody is hurting anybody else?"

All the kids suddenly went "ooooo" like they were in awe or something.

"And Chuuya— did you not raise your hand?"

The ginger boy looked at the teacher, and just shrugged.

"No, I can't think of a time where I've been hurt."

"Not one time? By family, friends, strangers, or anybody? Has there ever been a moment in your life caused by someone else, that made you feel… unimportant? Not worthy of love?"

Made you feel unimportant, unworthy of love? Chuuya repeated in his thoughts.

"There have been…"

'Just take it you little wimp.'

"…times."

'Mom will never love you anymore.'

"Where some… people…"

'You're the reason that dad left—'

"…have made me feel…"

'—and this is your punishment.'

"…bad."

Mrs. Naomi smiled, but in a pitiful way. "See? We are all hurt by people, and we all hurt other as well."

"Yeah…" Chuuya said, sinking in his chair. "…you're right, I guess."

Naomi looked to the class, and started talking about abuse.

Apparently it's when somebody consistently hurts another person over and over. Kind of like bullying, Chuuya connected. But it's more in a relationship, whether it's platonic or romantic.

They watched first a video on verbal abuse, the abuse of words. Words can be hurtful, and when you consistently use your words to hurt someone else or feel superior to them it's verbal abuse.

Then they watched a video on physical abuse, the abuse of physically hurting someone else. This taught the class about when somebody uses punches, kicks, any form of physical harm on another person consistently it is physical abuse, and to tell authorities immediately.

"Okay, the last one is very important. Still as important as verbal and physical abuse, but I don't think it's touched on as much as the other forms. The last form is sexual abuse."

Instantly, the room was filled with "ewwww" "sex?" "Ewy!" "Gross!" "That's adult stuff!"

"Hey, hey!" Naomi said, "calm down, everybody. It does have to do with sex. And I'm not sure if a lot of you are familiar with that term or not, but it's a needed-to-be touched on about topic."

Chuuya didn't even know if he was breathing right now.

Was he in a pool?

He looked down,

—ah. No, he's just sweating.

'Hey, why do me and you do this together?'

'Well, it's called—'

"Sexual abuse." Naomi said, loud and clear. Bringing Chuuya out of his thought-train. "When somebody physically abuses you, touching your 'X' squares."

Using her pointer, Naomi walked over to a picture hung up on her wall. It was a graph of a human body, squares around certain areas that give Chuuya a filthy feeling.

"Right over here, we can see a graph of our body. It's completely normal for all of us to have a human body, and we all have certain parts on our bodies." She said, pointing to all the squares one-by-one. "But—certain parts are considered our 'private parts' because of how sensitive they are to us. They are ours, and only ours. Nobody— and absolutely nobody, no matter what they say, should be touching them whatsoever."

She reached up, pointing towards the first square.

"The mouth is the first one. The chest or breast is the second. The place we pee is our third, and our buttocks is our fourth."

Some children were giggling, some were intrigued, and some were just sitting awkwardly in their seats, scratching their necks.

"And this is no joke." The teacher said, pointing at the kids who were laughing; they immediately stopped.

Chuuya was sweating still, breathing heavily, and blinking a few times here and there. He swore, were those stars that he could see— or is he just dreaming?

"Now, I'm gonna show you all a video, alright?"

She then played a video showcasing sexual abuse. It was a PSA cartoon of it. It showed a little girl, who was being abused by her uncle. Chuuya watched it, and listened in and out what the video was saying.

"Abusers will manipulate. Tell the victim things they wanna hear—"

"The abuser will make the victim feel like it's all their fault, like they can't do anything about the situation—"

"If you are a victim, please tell a trusted adult. If you are in need of help or feel like hurting yourself, text or call 988, if you need to text or chat please visit—"

Chuuya couldn't take it anymore.

But—just as he was about to run out of the room, the light flashed on and the video was done. The bell to the period rang, and school was over.

Time to go home.

He packed up his things, the teacher's final words fading in and out of his ears.

When he was walking out the door, he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned around.

"Hey, Chuuya. Are you okay?"

It was Mrs. Naomi.

"Yeah, why?"

"You seemed fidgety towards the end of the lesson. Like you were going to pass out at some point." She furrowed her brows. "Is something going on?"

Chuuya coughed, a reaction from the confusion he was feeling in his heart. "No—no…" He said, dazed a bit. "Nothings wrong. I'm fine. I gotta go— my Uh… my b—my brother… he's picking me up."

He turned around, but was stopped by a hand grabbing his arm gently.

He jumped, turning his head. "Hey, just always know I'm here if you need to talk to me, okay?" She said, a smile forming on her face.

"Yeah… okay."

He nodded, taking his arm out of her hand and heading out the door.

When Chuuya popped in the passenger's seat, he threw his book bag in the back.

Paul was in the driver's seat.

"Hey, bud!" The older said, throwing his cigarette out the window.

"Eugh!" Chuuya plugged his nose. "Did you run over a skunk on the way here?!" He plugged his seatbelt in.

Paul chuckled. "Yup." He put the car in drive, taking off. "What'd you learn in school today?"

"Just math stuff."

"Boring." He pulled out of the school's parking lot, and turned the rock music up.

"Hey, Paul?"

"Yeah?"

"Why do we have sex?"

The car stopped.

Paul looked over to his little brother, and pulled the car to the side of the road. A gentle smile made its way to his face, he patted Chuuya's back.

"Why are you asking?"

"I was curious."

"People like to have pleasure. Don't you think it feels good?"

Chuuya looked out the window. Cornfields went on for miles; they were on a country road.

"Not really."

"Why not?"

"It hurts. And there's blood." Chuuya's body felt sort of numb, and all he felt was the droop of his eyelids, watching the tall grass.

"Do you want lube?"

"I don't know what that is."

"It makes it feel better."

"Sure. Whatever makes it easier for me to keep on going."

Paul smiled at the sentence, Chuuya didn't.

They both heard the same sound in different chords.

"Perfect." Paul said.

"Perfect." Chuuya repeated.

"It'll be our little secret."

And they went on home.