Chapter Text
Returning to school had been a shitshow after Kamoshida broke his femur and the school remained steadfast in their claim that Ryuji had been the aggressor. Ryuji could feel the stares and sneers of his classmates while he climbed the steps of Shujin academy with his crutches. If they didn’t gawk, the student body as a whole began avoiding him in the halls, watching constantly to make sure they were keeping their distance.
Ryuji hadn’t been insanely popular before he raised his fist at Kamoshida, but he hadn’t been unpopular either. He’d always had an easy time making friends. He’d annoyed a few people in the process, but he’d mostly stuck to the track team to start with and he’d thought they’d all grown fairly close. Ryuji was shocked to find that the school he’d gone to for an entire semester was not the same when he returned after his knee surgery. Since the moment he’d stepped foot into Shujin’s halls, the atmosphere of the school had transformed into something inhospitable seemingly overnight.
His teachers suddenly seemed to dislike his presence in the classroom, all awkward smiles and clipped comments. His classmates whispered amongst themselves, looking over their shoulders to ensure they weren’t being heard. Ryuji had even leaned over to ask the person next to him if they knew what homework he missed and was only met with a silent sideways glance.
Lunch didn’t go much better. Ryuji had some hope he could escape the oppressive atmosphere of his classroom by finding his friends in the classroom next door. Nakaoka would usually meet Ryuji in the hallway before they found a few members of the track team to sit with for the remainder of the period. Nakaoka wasn’t waiting in the hall for him and no one from the team who he’d shared phone numbers with had answered his texts about meeting up for lunch. Ryuji checked the classroom next door and the one after that, but none of the first-year members of the track team were there. One spot he knew they liked to hang out was in the sports building, but Ryuji hadn’t been certain he wanted to walk all the way there only to find out they had gone to the courtyard instead.
In the end, he sat down at the end of the hall, his crutches propped up beside him, and he ate there. He checked his phone every few minutes, hoping he’d eventually get a response from someone. He didn’t have any of the numbers of the third years he had befriended, not that they’d want to eat lunch with a first-year in the first place, but at least he wouldn’t be alone.
It was embarrassing eating lunch by himself in the hall, watching people pass and occasionally making eye contact someone who visibly seemed a little put off by him being there. A few minutes before class was supposed to begin again, Ryuji spotted Takeishi exit the stairwell and turn away toward the direction of his classroom. Ryuji pushed himself up onto his feet, abandoning his bag in favor of quickly grabbing his crutches. He moved in Takeishi’s direction as quickly as he could manage, but his teammate didn’t make it easy to catch up to him.
“Takeishi! Hey!” Ryuji called out to him, trying to pick up his pace. “Hey, wait for me!”
Takeishi stopped outside his classroom and turned. He sent a sideways glance Ryuji’s way and frowned. “What do you want?”
“What? I…” Ryuji stopped in front of him, readjusting his grip on his crutches so that they weren’t digging into his arms as much. “Did you see my texts? Where were you guys during lunch?”
“Why would that be any of your business?”
“Because… we eat lunch together… sometimes,” Ryuji replied, not quite as sure of himself as he had been before.
Takeishi raised an eyebrow. “Did you think everything was just going to go back to normal after the stunt you pulled?”
With an anxious laugh, Ryuji quickly glanced around the hallway. Perhaps Takeishi would give up the joke if Ryuji acted like he was catching on. The more likely alternative sat like a lead weight in the pit of his stomach. “What do you mean?”
“You fucked up this time, Sakamoto." Takeishi took a menacing step forward. Ryuji was unable to move back and, at best, could only lean back to look up at Takeishi’s face, twisted into a snarl. "Track’s gone thanks to you.”
“Me?!” Ryuji shouted. He straightened his posture, trying to look braver than he actually felt. Takeishi had never looked at Ryuji like this. The worst he’d ever gotten was a scrunched nose and an eye-roll when Ryuji openly complained about Kamoshida after practice.
“Quit complaining,” he’d said like Ryuji hadn’t been chewed out by Kamoshida enough during practice and needed Takeishi to add his two cents. “You’re the star of the track team. It’s not like he’ll actually bench you over a few measly seconds.”
Ryuji had thought the same thing. He used to think Kamoshida was all bark and no bite in regards to Ryuji’s placement. Kamoshida liked to watch them run laps until they puked and hold water breaks over their heads like they were taking his training for granted by just thinking about taking a break. He’d shove and push when you got in his way and the man was tall and broad enough to knock the air out of your lungs when he did. He’d get in their faces and scream until they broke down into tears once they were out of his sight, but Ryuji never feared that he’d lose his spot on the team.
“You’re untouchable,” Takeishi had said, a bitterness to his voice Ryuji hadn’t recognized.
Ryuji had believed him too. No matter what Kamoshida said or did, Ryuji was still the track team’s fastest sprinter. If Kamoshida wanted to win at Nationals, he needed Ryuji. Ryuji had truly felt untouchable when Kamoshida finally hit his last nerve, but then he’d swung first and it all fell apart from there.
Kamoshida had never wanted the track team to win at Nationals, let alone for the team to exist in the first place. If the track team brought in all the awards, where did that leave the volleyball team? Shujin’s volleyball team hardly ever won games with their old coach at the helm. Kamoshida didn’t need the track team and he didn’t need Ryuji. Ryuji had been a roadblock to his success story. He’d only needed an opportunity to clear the road.
“Kamoshida hated our team!” Ryuji growled, shocked that Takeishi didn’t see that. “He must have-”
“He hated us and you gave him the perfect reason to get rid of us.” Takeishi jabbed a finger into Ryuji’s chest. “You knew that. We were doing fine until you had to prove a point.”
“I wasn’t-!” Ryuji heard his own voice crack and he winced, “He deserved it!”
“Don’t talk to me anymore. None of us want to be seen with you, anyway. You’ve ruined our reputation enough as it is.” Takeishi turned and entered his classroom, leaving Ryuji in the hallway.
“What’s Sakamoto yelling about now?” Ryuji heard a voice behind him ask.
“I think he was trying to pick a fight with that guy,” replied another.
Ryuji rushed for the bathroom down the hall. He dipped inside and caught a glimpse of himself in the mirrors. His face was flushed bright red, the embarrassment of it all curling across his cheeks and over his ears. Tears welled up in his eyes as Ryuji pulled himself into a bathroom stall and locked the door. His crutches clattered to the ground as he slid down onto the tile floor, lungs stuttering for air as he fought to stop himself from crying.
He lost the battle as his whole body was wracked with sobs; his head spun, his chest heaved, his leg ached. He pulled his good knee up to his chest and wrapped an arm around it. He pressed his cheek into the fabric of his pant leg and pulled his phone from his pocket. He blinked to clear his vision and tried to inhale a few deep breaths. Letting the tears spill over again, he searched through his contacts. He had a pretty good idea that his texts were probably blocked rather than just ignored. Ryuji wanted to block his so-called friends right back, a thought that felt comfortingly righteous and vengeful. Realistically, however, they would never know he blocked their chat IDs and if they did know, they probably wouldn’t care. That realization quickly took the wind out of Ryuji’s sails. So, he deleted their numbers from his contact list instead. The task left his contact list nearly empty at the end of it all. Ryuji was disappointed to realize a lot of the remaining numbers were from early middle school and consisted of people he hadn’t talked to for at least a year. He hadn’t even been sure if he really remembered who half of them were anymore.
Ryuji sat on the bathroom floor, choosing to hide until the tears decided to fuck off and leave him alone. He intended to stay in the bathroom as long as he could, even until the end of the school day, until he remembered he’d left his schoolbag behind.
Ryuji groaned and tipped his head back, thumping it against the stall door. He sniffled and glared up at the ceiling. “Eff this shit.”