The night was cold.
Yami walked in silence, hands in his pockets, eyes on the ground.
"Should I accept it?"
"No…"
"It's better not to go back to how things were."
The sound of footsteps echoed on the wet asphalt. The world felt distant, muffled by the fog.
"But… should I accept it?"
"I don't want to live under a bridge forever."
"Or eat from the trash."
He stopped.
Looked up at the overcast sky, but saw no stars. Only clouds, smoke, and silence.
"…Don't forget."
He turned and kept walking, his steps steady. But inside, everything trembled.
The night didn't just stay cold.
It became cruel.
Yami curled up beneath the bridge, hugging his knees, his chin trembling. He couldn't feel his hands. The blanket he'd stolen days ago was damp and smelled of mold.
His body ached. The cold seeped into his bones.
"Shit…"
He clenched his teeth. Thought of Kenta. What he had said.
"There's a way out, Yami. But you have to want it."
Want what? To feel again? To trust?
He fell asleep like that — frozen, his stomach growling.
---
He woke up to something on top of him.
Beaks. Pecking.
Crows.
Startled by his sudden movement, the birds flapped away, screeching. One had been pecking at his leg. Another, his shoulder.
— GET OFF ME, DAMN IT!
Yami jumped up and ran without thinking. His legs wobbled. His head was burning, but his body was frozen.
At the edge of the bridge, he tripped.
And fell.
The river swallowed him.
The water was a punch to the chest — a million knives stabbing all at once. He kicked, surfaced, coughed, swallowed more water, and dragged himself to the riverbank.
He lay on his back, panting, completely soaked.
His uniform. The only decent clothes he had.
Soaked. Frozen.
— Nice going, Yami… now you're completely screwed.
---
Hours later, Yami wandered the streets.
With every step, a wet squish echoed in the silence. His uniform, stuck to his skin, was starting to stink.
No one looked twice. Or rather — they looked, then turned away.
In an alley behind a closed store, he saw a dumpster slightly open.
He pinched his nose and looked inside.
There, on top of a torn trash bag, was a lump of gray porridge.
Cold. Hardened around the edges. It looked like expired glue.
Yami grimaced and pulled back.
"I'm not eating that."
But his stomach growled loud — like distant thunder from within.
He stood still for a few seconds. Then sighed deeply.
"Just a bit… just to get through the day…"
With dirty hands, he grabbed some. Brought it to his mouth.
As soon as he chewed, he felt something crunchy.
He looked back into the dumpster.
Only then did he see: two live cockroaches crawling between the scraps, as if it were their territory.
The bitter taste rose in his throat.
Yami turned and vomited right there against the wall.
---
He dropped to his knees, body shaking.
The taste of vomit still in his mouth. The smell of roaches in his nose.
"This is it?"
"This is my life now?"
The icy wind cut through his wet skin. His fingers began to stiffen.
Slowly, he leaned against the dirty wall and slid down until he was sitting.
He looked up at the cloudy sky, starless.
And then he thought:
"That's enough."
"I've had enough of this shit."
"I'm not going to live like this anymore. Not anymore."
He stood up with effort — shaky legs, chest still aching from the nausea.
Wiped his mouth with the damp sleeve of his uniform.
He entered the school without looking to the sides, eyes on the floor, trying to be invisible. But the smell, the wrinkled appearance, and the stains on his clothes didn't go unnoticed.
In the classroom, whispers began the moment he stepped through the door.
— What is that? — one student whispered.
— Looks like he fell in the sewer… — said another, laughing.
Yami tried to ignore it. Sat down in silence, eyes locked on the desk. But the laughter grew like wildfire.
The teacher walked in and frowned at the sight of him.
— Why are you wet, Yami?
— I… I got caught in the rain on the way here — he said, not lifting his head.
— Rain? — her voice was sharp. — It didn't rain today.
The class laughed louder.
— Now you're lying to me?
Yami didn't answer.
— Get out of the classroom! — the teacher shouted.
He got up slowly, eyes on the floor. Each step toward the door seemed to drag what little dignity he had left. The laughter burst like fireworks — loud, cruel, inescapable.
The whole day went on like that: teasing, laughter, looks of disgust.
---
The sun was already beginning to set when Yami saw Kenta standing by the school gate, as if he already knew he'd come.
Kenta smiled, faintly.
— I guess you've made up your mind.
Yami stayed silent. He thought about the rotten food, the cockroaches, the classroom, the cold, the teacher, the laughter.
Then he replied, voice firm but eyes heavy:
— I accept.
Kenta raised an eyebrow, surprised.
— But I'm not going to follow your orders, got it?
—I'll listen to what you have to say… then I'll decide whether I accept it or not.
Kenta chuckled softly. A satisfied smile appeared at the corner of his mouth.
— Fair enough.