Akira's mind fluttered like a flickering light, struggling against a haze of pain and confusion. Each breath felt like a laborious task, his body protesting against movement. With a groan, he reluctantly forced his eyes open, only to be met with the harsh glare of the overhead lights, compelling him to shut them again. Where… am I? His fingers grazed the cool metal of an exam table, grounding him in reality – he was in a hospital.

The sharp heels clicking against the marble floor shattered the silence, instantly capturing Akira's attention. A familiar voice broke through the haze, "Ah, I see you're awake. We have to stop meeting like this, Kurusu-kun. You've caused quite a stir." Akira shifted his gaze to see Dr. Takemi casually seated on her desk, legs crossed. "A broken nose, a cracked rib, and a concussion. Is this how teenagers welcome transfer students these days?"

Struggling to orient himself, Akira managed a grumble. "Seems I missed the memo." As his eyes adjusted, Akira took in the scene, noticing the plastic bag of medications in Takemi's hand. "Where am I?" he asked, his voice hoarse.

"You're at my clinic in Yongen-Jaya," Takemi replied. "You're lucky I wasn't on break when Sojiro and your girlfriend brought you in. Otherwise, things could've been worse."

Akira blushed at the mention of a girlfriend, but before he could correct the doctor, Takemi handed him the medications. "Eat before you take these," she instructed. "I don't want to hear from Sojiro about you neglecting your health."

With acknowledgment, Akira accepted the bag, slipping his jacket on as he followed Takemi out of the room. In the lobby, he saw Sojiro and Wakaba speaking quietly while Makoto browsed magazines. Wakaba noticed Akira and Takemi leaving the examination room and asked, "Oh, Akira, are you okay?" She hugged him and checked his injuries.

Sojiro, sensing Akira's discomfort, intervened, saying, "Wakaba, calm down. Akira's a bit roughed up, but he'll be fine. Did you fight back?" When Akira shook his head, Sojiro added, "Good, we don't need more trouble. Now, explain why they attacked you in the first place?"

Akira struggled to find the words, unable to reveal that someone had exposed his criminal record, leading to widespread hostility at school. Makoto, standing aside, noticed Akira's discomfort and interrupted the discussion, saying, "Excuse me, but if I may? I don't know how to say this, but due to Kurusu-kun's criminal record, it has become the talk of the school."

Wakaba, frowning, asked, "Talk of the school? Who are you?" Makoto introduced herself as the Student Council President at the academy and explained that the criminal record had been leaked anonymously on the school's forum, making it challenging for the principal to take action.

Wakaba was frustrated and turned to Sojiro, saying, "See, I knew something like this would happen, but you didn't believe me. You said I was exaggerating about a bratty delinquent." Her gaze shifted to Makoto. "Is his record still on the forum? How will the school handle this? There should be no bullying allowed at that prep school."

Makoto reassured Wakaba, "His record is still on the forum, but I'm confident the principal will address it. Tomorrow, before school, I'll personally discuss the punishment for the volleyball players with Principal Kobayakawa and Kamoshida-sensei."

Wakaba rolled her eyes, dismissing Makoto's authority, "Yeah, that's never going to happen. I remember students like you when I was in school, Niijima-san. You think you have some authority because of your position, but you don't. Faculty will listen to you for your sake, but they won't do anything until they see fit." She noticed Makoto's puzzled expression.

Makoto looked down at her shoes, feeling disheartened. "So, you're saying that I'm useless?"

Trying to reassure her, Wakaba said, "Don't take it too personally, dear. You're a wonderful president, and the students look up to you for guidance." She then turned her attention toward Akira, "I will take off work tomorrow and come to your school to meet with the principal myself."

Sojiro intervened, "You will do no such thing."

Wakaba responded defiantly, "Watch me."

Dr. Takemi cleared her throat to regain everyone's attention. "As much as I would love to hear the rest of the conversation, it's getting late, and I need to close."

Sojiro remembered the bill and inquired, "How much is the bill?"

Takemi replied, "500,000 yen."

Akira's eyes widened in surprise. "500,000 yen?" He stammered nervously. "Um… I don't have that much money."

Wakaba reassured him, "You don't have to worry about that, Akira." She smirked at Sojiro. "Sojiro will take care of the bill. Isn't that right, Sojiro?"

Sojiro reluctantly agreed and handed his credit card to Takemi. He grumbled under his breath, "You're gonna put a dent in my bank account one of these days, woman. This is the last time I'm doing this. After this, you're getting a job," he told Akira. Dr. Takemi deducted the money from Sojiro's account, and he put the card back into his wallet, "Alright, let's go."

"Hold on a minute," Wakaba stopped them, turning to Makoto. "Niijima-san, it's getting late, so it's best to head home. Akira will escort you to the train station."

Both Makoto and Akira were surprised, but Wakaba insisted, "Don't look so surprised, Akira. Niijima-san probably had important things to do but decided to assure you were okay. The least you can do is walk her to the train station." She smiled, "And don't worry, I'll make sure Sojiro doesn't lock you out."

Akira reluctantly followed Wakaba's orders and gestured for Makoto to accompany him to the hallway. After Makoto bowed her head to Sojiro, Wakaba, and Dr. Takemi, the awkward pair stepped out of the elevator into the chilly atmosphere.

Akira said, "The train station isn't far from here." He started walking, but Makoto remained in the alley, staring at her shoes. "Niijima-senpai, what's wrong?"

Makoto mumbled an apology without looking up, "I'm sorry."

Akira asked, "What?"

Makoto lifted her head, surprising Akira as she started crying, "I'm sorry! I should have kept my opinions to myself. If I did, you wouldn't have left, and the athletes wouldn't have done what they did." She paced back and forth, saying, "You're right, Kurusu-kun. You're 100% right. I'm just like everyone else at the school. When I read your file, I pictured this honored student turned delinquent who doesn't care about anything." She stopped pacing and locked eyes with Akira, "Well, say something!"

Irritated by his physical discomfort, hunger, and the chilly weather, Akira replied, "What do you want me to say? You should have kept your mouth shut, but you didn't, and I'm fine with that. I don't need an apology from you. Instead, I'd like to thank you."

Makoto was surprised and confused, asking, "What?"

Raising an eyebrow at her ignorance, Akira said, "Nijima-senpai, you practically saved my life. If it weren't for you, those three would have continued hitting me, and nobody was going to help me. And I can't fight back because I'm on probation. I don't want to end up in juvie again. So, thank you."

Makoto wanted to say more, but she smiled and replied, "You're welcome."

April 12th

Beep. Beep. Beep. The shrill sound pierced the early morning silence, stirring Akira from his slumber. He reached out from underneath the warmth of his blanket, his hand fumbling for the snooze button on his alarm clock. The soft cotton of his sheets clung to his skin as he reluctantly emerged from the comfort of his bed, the chilly air sending a shiver down his spine.

With a heavy sigh, Akira swung his legs over the edge of the mattress, his bare feet meeting the cool wooden floorboards below. The faint scent of coffee from downstairs greeted his senses as he padded across the room, gathering his school uniform and toiletries in a sleepy haze.

The harsh fluorescent light flickered to life in the bathroom, casting a pale glow over the tiled walls. Akira placed his toiletries on the sink with a clatter echoing in the small space. He leaned closer to the mirror, the steam from his breath fogging the glass as he examined his reflection, taking in his face's fading bruises and swollen contours.

Akira touched his cheek, his fingers gently grazing the tender skin. The sensation sent a dull ache coursing through his bones, a reminder of the events that had led him here.

Once he finished his morning routine, Akira slung his schoolbag over his shoulder and headed downstairs, where Sojiro was waiting with another plate of curry. The rich aroma of spices filled the air, mingling with the scent of brewing coffee and the faint hin of cigarette smoke. The sizzle of onions and garlic in the pan added to the cacophony of sounds filling the room.

Sojiro's keen gaze met Akira's as the teenager sat down to eat, his eyes lingering on the fading bruises marring his features. Akira could feel the weight of his scrutiny, the unspoken concern hanging heavy in the air. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, the tension palpable between them.

"I see that the cream worked. Dr. Takemi is a miracle worker," Sojiro remarked, his voice gruff yet laced with a hint of warmth. He paused, taking a sip of his coffee before continuing. "Well, not in my words, of course. The locals prefer her over some fake who's just after their money. Oh, don't forget to stop by her clinic after school so she can ensure everything is healing well."

Akira dropped his fork on the counter, the clang of metal against wood reverberating through the café. Without looking up at Sojiro, he asked, "Can I stay here today? I don't think Shujin is a good fit for me. I try to ignore the stares and whispers, but who am I kidding? They don't want me there, and I don't want to be there."

"So, that's it? You'll spend the entire year in the attic because no one likes you?" Sojiro's words landed heavily in the air. "Well, here's a reality check, kid; not everyone will like you," he continued. "I don't know what to tell you, Akira. Maybe you could get a part-time job or join a school club. At least then you'd have some distractions."

As Akira absentmindedly twirled the remaining curry on his plate with a fork, he mulled over Sojiro's advice. Perhaps a part-time job was worth considering, but the hurdle of his criminal record loomed large. And that wasn't his only problem; the absence of references to vouch for him posed another challenge. Sojiro wouldn't speak highly of him, nor would the teachers at Shujin or his previous school.

Akira realized he needed a plan for when the money his mom gave him ran out. He pushed back from the counter, heading to the small kitchen to wash the plate and cup, his mind already working on possible solutions.

###

Wakaba's words replayed in Makoto's head like a broken record as she stood before the imposing door to Principal Kobayakawa's office. Doubt gnawed at her confidence with each passing second, the words echoing louder than the last. This isn't going to work. I'm useless. Her fist hovered above the door, reluctant to knock, as if sensing the impending failure that awaited her on the other side.

Summoning every ounce of determination, Makoto pushed aside the nagging doubts and finally rapped her knuckles against the door. The sound reverberated in the hallway, matching the pounding of her heart. "Come in," she heard Principal Kobayakawa's voice, muffled yet unmistakable. As the door creaked open, Makoto's heart hammered in her chest, the sound echoing in her wars like a drumbeat of anticipation.

Stepping into the office, Makoto halted in her tracks when she saw Kamoshida seated across from Kobayakawa, a steaming cup of coffee in her hand. The aroma of the freshly brewed coffee wafted through the air, mixing with the faint scent of paper and ink. Kobayakawa set down his cup with a clatter, his expression inscrutable as he regarded Makoto. "Ah, Niijima-san, to what do I owe the pleasure."

"Sir," Makoto replied, her voice steady despite the flutter of nerves in her stomach. She cast a wary glance at Kamoshida before addressing the principal. "Some pressing matters concerning Akira Kurusu need to be addressed."

"What about him?" Kobayakawa inquired, his tone neutral. "Has he been inappropriate towards you in any way?"

Kamoshida, setting down his coffee cup with exaggerated care, interjected with a sigh. "It still baffles me that you allow a criminal to roam the halls of our esteemed institution, Principal Kobayakawa. And to have Niijima-san babysit him, no less. I heard from one of my students yesterday that the transfer student was becoming aggressive towards her."

Makoto's jaw tightened at the accusation, her hands balling into fists at her sides. "No," she stated firmly, shaking her head. "Principal Kobayakawa, the issue isn't Kurusu-kun himself. It's the students. Yesterday, I witnessed three volleyball players violently attacking Kurusu-kun after school near the train station."

A chill raved down Makoto's spine as Koyakawa and Kamoshida exchanged a silent, knowing glance. The air in the room grew thick with tension, suffocating her.

"Niijima-san," Principal Kobayakawa spoke slowly, his voice measured, "this is a serious accusation. Violence has no place within the walls of Shujin Academy. No one should be skipping practices, especially with nationals on the horizon. And besides, the volleyball team had practice after school, correct, Kamoshida?"

Kamoshida ran a hand through his hair, a mask of contrition on his face. "I had to take an urgent phone call, which caused a delay in our practice session. It pains me to think that some of my students would resort to violence." He fixed Makoto with a scrutinizing gaze. "Do you recall the names of the three who were there, Niijima-san?"

"Tanaka-san, Yamamoto-san, and Kojima-san," Makoto replied without hesitation, her voice unwavering.

"Thank you, Niijima-san, for bringing this matter to my attention," Kamoshida said, his tone dripping with false sincerity. "I will have a stern word with them, Principal Kobayakawa."

Kobayakawa nodded in approval. "Very well. I trust you will handle it accordingly, Kamoshida." He then turned his attention back to Makoto. "You may leave now, Niijima-san. The bell will ring soon, and you wouldn't want to be late for class."

Makoto felt her cheeks flush with indignation, her fists trembling with suppressed anger. How could they be so dismissive of such a serious matter? "But, sir –" she began, her voice faltering as Kobayakawa's stern gaze bore into her.

"Enough, Niijima!" Kobayakawa's voice cut through the air like a whip, silencing her protests. He sighed heavily, his disappointment palpable. "As student council president, I expect you to keep a close eye on Kurusu and ensure he doesn't cause any trouble inside Shujin Academy. But attempting to punish students for actions that occur off school grounds is beyond your control."

"If it eases your conscience, Niijima-san," Kamoshida interjected. "I'll ensure that Tanaka, Yamamoto, and Kojima apologize to Kurusu for their behavior."

Kobayakawa clapped his hands together with a self-satisfied smirk. "There, you see? Problem solved. Is there anything else that you need, Niijima-san?"

Makoto's heart sank as she realized the futility of her efforts. Despite her position of authority, she was nothing more than a powerless pawn in the principal's eyes. The eight of her humiliation pressed down on her, threatening to crush her spirit.

"Kurusu-kun's criminal record is still publicly accessible on the school's forum," Makoto stated. "The longer it remains, the more students will spread malicious gossip to each other. I merely wish to advise you that it would be prudent to remove it."

With that, Makoto bowed stiffly and turned on her hell, her cheeks burning with shame as she hastily exited the office. Each step felt like a dagger to her pride, a painful reminder of her impotence in the face of authority.

As the door closed behind her with a resounding thud, Makoto leaned against the cold, unforgiving wall of the corridor, her breath coming in ragged gasps. She felt like a failure, her efforts to enact change thwarted at every turn. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, threatening to spill over as the weight of her powerlessness bore down on her like a suffocating blanket.

Inside the principal's office, Kobayakawa shot Kamoshida a disapproved look. "I don't understand why you remain so composed, Kamoshida. Do you realize the severity of the situation? Things could have been worse if someone other than Niijima-san had been involved."

Kamoshida merely shrugged, taking a leisurely sip of his now-cold coffee. "My management company knows how to handle these matters," he replied nonchalantly, his expression unreadable.

###

"Yo!" Akira closed his gym locker and found Ryuji leaning against another locker, his brow furrowed in concern as he took in Akira's bruised face. "What the hell happened to your face? I heard people were talking, but I honestly couldn't believe it."

Akira's hands trembled as he recalled the events from yesterday. He glanced briefly at the ground before composing himself. "Well, some volleyball team members decided to give me the warm Shujin welcome treatment."

"What a bunch of asshats!" Ryuji slammed his fist on a locker, the metallic clang reverberating through the locker room. "Ugh, I can't stand them sometimes. Ever since Kamoshida became their coach, they automatically assume they can get away with bullshit. It drives me crazy!"

Akira nodded in agreement, his jaw tight with frustration, and together, they exited the locker room. As they entered the gymnasium, the scent of sweat and floor wac permeated the air, mingling with the faint murmur of voices and the occasional squeak of sneakers on the polished floor.

Kamoshida stood in the middle of the court, holding a whistle and volleyball. "Gather around, everyone," he ordered, his voice cutting through the air with authority. "It's mandatory for every student to participate in tomorrow's volleyball rally to receive a grade. So, you'll come up, and I'll spike the individually. I want to see if you can handle my team." His gaze lingered on Akira, a predatory smirk playing on his lips. "Kurusu, you'll be first. Let's see if you're good at hitting something that isn't human."

There were murmurs of amusement and anticipation in the gym as Akira stepped onto the other side of the volleyball net, his heart pounding. Kamoshida climbed onto the podium as Akira got into standard volleyball stance, the tension in the air thickening with each passing moment. He nodded at Kamoshida to let him know he was ready.

Kamoshida tossed the ball into the air, its impact against his hand echoing through the gymnasium.

BAAM

The ball struck Akira's right shoulder with force, sending him stumbling backward. The gymnasium erupted into whispers, the sound washing over Akira like a wave of humiliation. In the corner of his eyes, he noticed Ryuji throwing a sharp glare at Kamoshida, his fists clenched at his sides.

Undeterred, Kamoshida grabbed another volleyball, his smirk widening. "Come on, Kurusu, show us what you've got!" Kamoshida taunted.

BAAM

The force of the ball sent Akira to his knees, his hands trembling with frustration and anger. "Keep calm," he told himself, taking shallow breaths as he regained his composure. In the background, he could hear Kamoshida's taunts piercing the air. "What's the matter, Kurusu? Can't handle a little volleyball?" Kamoshida sneered. "Pathetic. Mishima, you're up next!"

With effort, Akira regained his footing and returned to Ryuji, his determination masking the humiliation burning within him. Out of the corner of his eyes, he caught Ann's sympathetic glance, quickly replaced by a façade of boredom.

###

The final bell rang, echoing through the emptying classroom, signaling the end of the school day. As students swiftly gathered their bags and filed, Akira remained behind, meticulously packing his belongings. His gaze fell upon Ann's abandoned history textbook left on her desk. With a sigh, he scooped up the book and exited the room, scanning the bustling hallway for his classmate. Spotting Ann by her locker, he quickened his pace to catch up with her.

However, his steps faltered as he caught sight of Kamoshida approaching Ann with an unsettling grin. Akira couldn't make out their conversation, but the tension in Ann's posture was palpable. With each step she took back, Kamoshida advanced, his demeanor predatory. Their exchange continued until Ann, visibly distressed, lowered her gaze and walked away with shoulders slumped in defeat.

"Kurusu!" The unwelcoming voices of the three volleyball players who had confronted him the previous day interrupted Akira's thoughts. Tanaka shook his head. "Don't worry. We're not here to hit you."

"We came to apologize to you," Yamamoto added, his tone somewhat sheepish.

Kojima lowered his head. "It was foolish of us to attack you for a stupid reason."

"We're sorry." They chorused, but Akira saw through the hollow words on their faces. And he wasn't fooled. Knowing that Makoto had likely spoken to the principal, compelling them to apologize, Akira responded coolly, "Thanks."

Ryuji's arrival added another layer of tension to the encounter. "Did Kamoshida have somethin' to do with this?" he demanded, his eyes burning with anger.

"This has nothing to do with you, Sakamoto," Tanaka retorted.

"Don't even bother with him. We've already made our apology. C'mon, let's get out of here," Yamamoto said, and the trio made a hasty exit, leaving Ryuji and Akira behind.

As they watched the three players retreat down the stairwell, Ryuji muttered, "I smell bullshit a mile away."

"Totally," Akira agreed, his expression unreadable.

"Now that they're gone," Ryuji turned his attention towards Akira, a big grin spreading across his face. "How 'bout getting' somethin' to eat?" he suggested. "You hadn't had a proper welcomin' with everyone treaten' you like shit. A beef restaurant on Central Street has the best beef bowls in Tokyo."

Akira sighed in defeat. "I would love that, but the principal has Niijima-senpai watching me every day after school."

"Seriously?" Ryuji's eyebrow shot up in surprise. "Well, if you are available to hang out, I'll be in the courtyard until six."

Soon after, the boys parted ways, Ryuji descending the stairs while Akira headed towards the library. Upon entering the library, Akira found Makoto was absent.

"Excuse me?" A voice startled Akira, and he turned to see a girl holding gardening books. She wore a pink turtleneck cardigan with short puffed sleeves over a white long-sleeved shirt, the standard Shujin skirt, white tights with black patterns, and black Mary Jane shoes. Her outfit, along with her chin-length light auburn hair, gave her an elegant look. "Are you looking for Makoto?"

Akira nodded. "Uh, yeah. Do you know where she is?"

"She's in the student council room," the girl replied. "But I'm unsure if she's there for a meeting."

"Thanks," Akira replied, quickly reaching the adjacent student council room. Peeking inside, he spotted Makoto addressing a group of students. One pointed in Akira's direction, prompting Makoto to step out and greet him.

"I am so sorry," she apologized, leading Akira into the hallway. "I should have mentioned that the organization has Tuesday's meetings after school."

"No need to apologize, Niijima-senpai," Akira reassured her. "I know you have responsibilities other than watching me, so return to your meeting."

"Are you sure? I can cut the meeting short," Makoto offered, but Akira shook his head. "Okay, well, I'll see you at the volleyball rally tomorrow." With a final smile, Makoto returned to the room.

Remembering that Ryuji was in the courtyard, Akira made his way there and spotted the boy reading a manga under the alcove. As Akira approached, Ryuji looked up from his manga and said, "Miss Prez didn't have time for you today?"

"Student council meeting."

"Alright," Ryuji closed the manga. "Let's get goin'!"

###

Ryuji set his chopsticks down and let out a loud belch, a satisfied grin spreading across his face. "Man, that hit the spot," he mumbled, rubbing his stomach contentedly before glancing at Akira. The boy, engrossed in devouring his beef bowl and ramen, didn't look up, but a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he savored each bite.

"Dude, you want me to get you another bowl before you eat that too?" Ryuji asked, his teasing grin widening.

Without looking away from his food, Akira shook his head. "No, I'm good, but thanks for the offer," he replied politely, a hint of gratitude in his tone.

"Okay," Ryuji said, leaning forward and resting his arms on the counter. "Since we're full of ramen, let's talk."

Akira cocked an eyebrow, curiosity flickering in his eyes. "About what?"

"You," Ryuji answered, his voice softening. "I want to hear your story, man. The real one."

Akira hesitated, his gaze flickering away before returning to meet Ryuji's. There was a wariness in his eyes but also a flicker of longing, a desire to finally share his burden. "I'm on probation for a year," he began, his voice steady but tinged with bitterness. "And because of my arrest, my parents shipped me to live with a total stranger. You know the whole 'wrong place at the wrong time' saying?"

Ryuji nodded, his expression shifting from curiosity to empathy as he listened intently, his eyes reflecting Akira's pain.

As Akira recounted his story, Ryuji's emotions ran from shock to anger to profound sadness. He clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white, as Akira described the injustice he had endured. "What a total dipshit! Like, what the hell, man?" Ryuji exclaimed, slamming his fist on the counter. "You can't just do shit like that and walk away."

"Well, he did," Akira said. "The cops took his and the woman's words over mine. I didn't even have a chance to defend myself."

Ryuji's heart ached for his friend, his anger simmering beneath the surface as he struggled to contain it. "I know some shitty adults who walk all over everyone," he said, his voice low and fierce. "I thought I had it bad, but your story takes the cake."

Akira was burning with curiosity and leaned forward, keeping his eyes fixed on Ryuji's face. "Now, what about you? You know about my past, so let me hear yours?"

Ryuji's demeanor shifted subtly, his shoulders tensing as he fiddled with the chopsticks, avoiding Akira's gaze. "My life isn't nearly as crazy as yours," he replied, his voice trailing off as his expression hardened.

"Have you heard anythin' about me at school?" Akira shook his head. "I'm not surprised. Before you, I was the talk of the school, for both good and bad."

"Good and bad? What did you do?" Akira's curiosity piqued, his eyes widening with intrigue as he leaned closer.

Ryuji's jaw tensed, his brows furrowing in frustration as he recounted his past. "You probably don't know yet, but the school's volleyball team is quite big. Last year, the track team was the big dogs, and I was a part of that," he explained, his voice tinged with bitterness. "I don't mean to toot my own horn, but I was pretty damn good. We all were out runnin' our opponents and winnin' every metal during the track meets. But all that ended when the school hired Kamoshida as the assistant coach."

"Kamoshida, as in the gym teacher?" Akira asked.

Ryuji frowned. "Yes, the same one. They hired Kamoshida because he's a retired Olympic Medalist, and the school's popularity increased." His frown turned into a scowl. "Things startin' to change in track for the worse. Somehow, Kamoshida got our head coach fired so he could become the head coach. Once he got his wish, he started makin' us do some intense trainin' that should be illegal. If one of us spoke against him, he would beat us and talk shit about us, sayin' shit like he yearns to be the volleyball team's coach and how we aren't as good as people say we are."

Akira bit his bottom lip, debating asking Ryuji a specific question. He noticed yesterday that the athlete walked with a limp, possibly from his time under Kamoshida's insane coaching. "Is that why you walk with a limp?" Akira finally asked, feeling anxious under Ryuji's gaze.

Ryuji's gaze flickered downward, his shame evident as he nodded. "So, you noticed, huh?" he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper as he patted his left leg. "Yeah, it's because of that bastard. Kamoshida commented on my mom and dad one day at practice, and I don't know… I just snapped. I didn't like the guy anyway, so I did what I thought was best."

"You hit him?"

"Yes, and by the looks of lefty here, that didn't go as well as I thought. Kamoshida beat the shit out of me, told the principal that it was out of self-defense, and he pulled some strings, and got the track team disbanded. Kamoshida told everyone that I went mental and randomly attacked him. And that's how I got the nickname 'track traitor.' Now you know my story." Ryuji said, his smile strained but genuine as he nudged Akira's shoulder. "Told you we are the same."

Their conversation abruptly halted as Akira checked the time on his phone, the reality of their impending departure sinking in. "Hey. I have to go soon," he said, a hint of regret coloring his voice.

"Right. I should take you to the station." Ryuji rose, paid for their food, and followed Akira out of the warmth and into the chilly night air. "I don't know about you, but I had fun today," he said, his voice softer now. "I can see the start of a new friendship formin'."

A smile tugged at the corners of Akira's lips as he glanced at Ryuji. "Oh, our friendship started the moment you brought me food. Next time we go out, dinner is on me."

Ryuji reciprocated the gesture with a nod. "I'll remember that." Then, a sudden realization dawned on him, prompting him to snap his fingers. "Oh, almost forgot! What's your phone number and chat ID?"

Once they exchanged contact information, they headed to the train station. As they bid farewell and went their separate ways for the night, Akira couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement at the prospect of a new friendship.

###

Arriving in Yongen-Jaya, Akira found himself running late due to heavy traffic caused by the rush hour exodus of workers and students hurrying home before curfew. Anticipating that Dr. Takemi might have closed her clinic for the night, he still decided to check if it was open. To his surprise, the lights were still on, glowing through the dimly lit hallway. Upon entering the lobby, he discovered it empty and believed that perhaps Takemi had forgotten to switch off the lights before leaving.

At that moment, the examination room door abruptly swung open, causing Akira to jump in surprise. A middle-aged man dressed in a business suit angrily exited the room with Takemi behind him. While the man wore a scrunched-up expression on his face, Takemi remained composed as she leaned against the door frame. Suddenly, the man pivoted around and pointed a finger at the doctor.

"Mark my words, Dr. Takemi. If you don't dispose of that 'medicine' soon, I'll have the media saying how much of a disgrace you are to the medical community. You'll be ostracized and have no choice but to resign," the man spat before slamming the door shut.

Takemi sighed heavily, running a hand through her hair before noticing Akira. "You do realize my clinic is closed for the night, right? You've chosen to show up after I told you to come straight after school. I even called Leblanc to ask Sojiro about your whereabouts, and he had no clue."

"Sorry. I was out with a friend, and I didn't anticipate the traffic to be horrible," Akira explained, feeling the gravity of the situation sink in. "When I saw the lights were still on, I assumed you were still open."

Takemi's gaze softened slightly. "I'm not, but I will make this one exception." She gestured for him to enter the exam room, her demeanor shifting as she shifted gears back to her professional mode.

As Takemi examined him, Akira couldn't help but notice her exhaustion, the strain of her encounter with the man still apparent in her posture. "Who was that man earlier? And why was he threatening you?" he asked, concern evident.

Takemi shrugged, making her troubled thoughts with a nonchalant tone. "No one important, just an old co-worker jealous of my homemade medicines."

"You create medicines?" Akira inquired.

"Yeah, why do you think the cream I have you worked? Any regular ointment would have taken a week to heal your face," Takemi responded, glancing at Akira. "How was school today? Better than yesterday? You mentioned hanging out with a friend. Was it the girl I saw yesterday?"

Akira shook his head. "No, it was a guy in my grade, but in a different classroom. He took me to a beef bowl restaurant to welcome me to Tokyo. It was the nicest gesture since my arrest." He glanced down at his hands. "But besides that, today was easier than yesterday. People still treat me like an outcast, so I must get used to it. And the athletes who jumped me yesterday apologized when school ended. I figured someone must have told them to do it, so I didn't pay much attention."

A small smile appeared on Takemi's face. "Well, I'm glad that you made a friend." She rose from the stool and walked toward her desk to write notes in Akira's file. "I didn't ask earlier, but did you experience any side effects last night or this morning? Such as nausea, fever, or drowsiness?"

Akira struggled to focus on answering the question when he noticed Takemi's short skin-tight dress began riding up her thighs. The poor boy felt a flush creeping on his neck at the thought of seeing the older woman's underwear.

When Takemi didn't hear Akira respond, she turned around and found him staring at her butt as if hypnotized. Boys will be boys, she thought, then cleared her throat to regain Akira's attention. The boy slightly jumped, his eyes widening like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "Kurusu-kun, did you hear what I said?"

"Sorry, I didn't. Could you repeat it, please?" Akira requested, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck.

"I asked if you had any side effects," Takemi repeated. "You would know if you weren't staring at my ass."

Embarrassed, Akira stammered an apology before answering her question. "No, I didn't," he said, then reached into his pocket for his wallet, ready to pay for the appointment. "How much do I owe you?"

Takemi waved him off. "Today's on the house, Kurusu-kun," she said, grabbing her purse and keys. "Come on, it's getting late, and I'm already missing my shows." The pair left the clinic, entered the elevator, and parted ways once they reached the ground floor.

When Akira arrived at Leblanc, he nervously wiped his hands on his uniform pants, anticipating Sojiro's reaction. Upon entering, Sojiro aggressively cleaned the countertop and only looked up to glare at Akira.

"So, you decided to show up, huh?" Sojiro spat out, throwing the damp towel on the countertop. "Do you know what time it is? And where have you been? Did you remember to go to Dr. Takemi right after school?" Sojiro didn't wait for Akira to respond. "No, you didn't because she called me, asking where you were, and I didn't know what to tell her. You made me look like a damn fool."

"I just came from Dr. Takemi," Akira informed. "I'm sorry that I didn't come by right after school. A friend invited me to eat, and we started talking until we realized it was late. It won't happen again."

"You went out with a friend?" Sojiro asked slowly, then huffed, trying to hide his smile. "Was it one of the other transfer students? They seemed like nice girls."

Akira shook his head. "No, it was a guy."

"Well, guy or girl, it wouldn't hurt for you to be around responsible teenagers," Sojiro remarked as he grabbed his hat and keys. "I'm heading out. Next time you want to stay out late, consider my schedule. I almost closed the shop and had you sleep outside."

"Yes, Sir." Akira watched Sojiro exit the café, lock the door behind him, and turn left towards the residential area. Akira turned off the lights and headed upstairs to work on homework before sleeping.