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Everyday was the same, and it had been for a long time now.
"Kageyama's always been lonely." Someone mocked, snickering in a classroom full yet desolate, to another. "I would be sad if he wasn't so damn funny to laugh at."
There wasn't a point in raising his head. They were right; and if they weren't, it didn't matter. People like him-- useless and utterly unremarkable-- never had anything meaningful to offer anyway. All he could do, and maybe all he could ever do, was sit there. Head lowered. Silent.
Faintly, something tells him it's always going to be this way. It's a horrible thought, one that morphs from a muted whisper to a disgusting beast. It slams against every wall in his traitorous mind, multiplying like a disease until his brain had rotten itself with decay and self-loathing. He hates how familiar it's become, and he hates even more the fact that it's the one consistency in his life. But he'll do nothing about it. He'll sit and bear it, letting his mind shake and shatter like cheap glass-- because stupidly, he holds onto a hope that's long abandoned him.
A gruff voice snaps his attention forward, the board a nauseating green as his teacher spits insults at him for getting inside his head again.
"Is all you're good for sitting there and moping?" He demanded, a shrill and vile sound. "You've done nothing this entire period! Nothing at all, Kageyama! Nothing at all!"
Everyone's laughing. All of their voices blend into some stupid sync that he could never match. His hands clenched, and he tried to force himself not to think about. Not to think about how, almost effortlessly, they all could come together in agreement. No matter how different they all were from eachother: nerds, athletes, academics, all of them could smile and grin together if it were on the basis of his suffering. Pitiful old Kageyama, some worthless punching bag for classmate bonding.
"C'mon, Shigeo!" Minori called, kicking his ankle with her foot. "Don't you know how rude it is to not answer your sensei? Huh? Huh? Hello?"
He hated her. Hated each and every strand of hair on that filthy head she had. If he could, he'd rip them out. One by one. He'd watch as she screamed and wept, and he'd watch tears oh-so familiar to his cheeks appear on hers. With that soul she had, dark and disgusting, eradicating a monster like Minori would be doing the world a favor.
They're chanting. A parade of snickers and snobby giggles that dared to break the floor in half with their glee. Fists banged against tables, feet stomped upon floors, and once more voices phased into one violent symphony.
"Dis-res-pect-ful Shi-Ge-O!" Over. And Over. And Over. And Over. With that stupid and satisfied look on his teachers face, he was practically their orchestrator. All of them were evil. Completely and utterly inhumane. Bugs, they were. Nothing but mean, cruel bugs.
But he wasn't allowed to think like that, was he? Not allowed to stand up to those deemed special or question any punch they threw at his chest. Good losers like him were supposed to whimper and cower, sob and go silent on command; emotions were nothing but props meant to be thrown away when they got tiresome, weren't they? Having them at all was nothing more than a burden.
"Dis-res-pect-ful Shi-Ge-O!"
In another universe, Shigeo wouldn't feel anything at all.
"Dis-res-pect-ful- Shi-Ge-O!"
The chant droned on forever, increasing when a new wave of fervor washed over them and decreasing when one moved closer to check if he gave in and cried. He didn't. This time atleast. It only ended when the teacher cleared his voice, signaling everyone to resume the lesson with a sly smile in his voice. His pain really must be the funniest thing in the world, huh?
After school is the same as when he's in school. He walks home alone, and he eats alone. The only difference is that the only person there to mock him is himself. Minori and her goons voices are replaced with his own. If he were to be honest with himself, it was way worse. For hours on end, he'd tear himself apart with no energy to put himself together again. His thoughts got all dark. Muddy and misty, so very tiring-- yet sleep never came. The morning rudely shook him awake, reminding him that the torture he called a life wasn't yet over.
For that reason, Kageyama was somewhat grateful for the fact that familiar face found him again. The school wall felt more like home than his own. His back pressed against the concrete as he felt her foot beat into her stomach with sadistic rhythm. This was routine. He was used to this. He could do this. He just couldn't go home alone again. Not when no one waited for him. Not when anyone wanted to.
"Stop it, Min--ori!" Kageyama heard himself cough, pleading endlessly despite the fact he was so far away. From the distance, he watched himself begin to cry. It was more than just the beatings, really. It was living. Cycling through what what felt like hell everyday burdened on his shoulders like rocks. His spine ached with yearning, his back with a desire for more. More than this. Anything other than this. "Leav-e m'alone!"
"Stop it, Minori!" She mocked, echoing his desperation with underlying boredom. "You say that every time! Maybe I'd go easier on you if you did anything other than-- than that!"
How could he, he wanted to scream. Yell at her until his throat bled, what did she want him to do? Whatever she wanted, he'd do. Her homework, her hair, give her money, his lunch-- he'd live under her feet if it meant her wrath moved away from him. So pathetic, he'd play dog if it meant he'd have a chance at a treat rather than a beating.
You'd die, his brain supplied. You'd die to finally feel at peace. Anyone would.
Seeming to have read his mind, her foot moved away from his chest. Her smile widened, stretching against her cheeks as her hand snatched his roots and pulled him to his knees. Black eyes met purple, his pupils shaking violently in anticipation from what was to come. Time even stopped, perhaps frozen itself in fear. Her breath hit his face, the words circling between them like smoke.
"Nothing something like you could ever do would be enough. Not for me, and not for anyone."
A gasp left his lips, shaky as she shoved him to the ground. And as she walked away, the world fell back into place. The ground was cold again, and the forming bruises on his stomach were anything but warm. Before his mind spiraled into any more self-loathing, he picked himself off the floor and began his way home. On the way, two distinct voices danced around the corner. One muffled, one bold and confident.
He knew that voice.
Not from anywhere he could coherently recollect or place, but he knew that voice. It was almost illogical how excited he got, a simmer of hope crashing down upon him like the sun onto the water. His feet, aching and sore, carried him along-- inching forward to what seemed to be salvation. When he turned the corner, before him stood an older man talking on the phone. Something about sales and business, nothing he understood. But the familiar grey on his suit, and the pink on his tie, merged together in one beautiful painting of what could be. Words escaped him, his voice long gone from sobbing and screaming, as he tugged on the man's sleeve. Poor and helpless, he was, but happy and free could be. He could almost see it, strangely. A world where they were together-- side by side. Laugh at the stupidest things, work together, exist as something other than enemies. He could feel it, too. Instead of aches and pains his stomach would only hurt from giggling and snickering. His legs would burn from running errands, like coffee or whatever interns did. It was right there. Shigeo Kageyama, for the first time in a long time, felt a desire to live.
"Can I call you back?" The man's voice cut in, exasperated and.. disgusted? "Some kid is tugging on me, god, do parents not watch their kids these days?"
...
Turning, the man squint his eyes as he looked Kageyama over. Stuttering and sputtering, the kid tried and failed to articule something. Anything. All that came were groans and desperate whimpers.
"Look, bud," the older started, swatting away Kageyama's dirt-ridden hand, "you've gotta do something with your life. Something good. You sitting here doing.." he paused, awkwardly gesturing to the boys hunched form, "..whatever this is? It isn't living. Don't you wanna do anything at all?"
...
He couldn't speak. Couldn't reply. Couldn't nod or shake his head. Color sept from his vision, distorting into black and grey as the mans words sept into his skin. Smiling to himself, the stranger began to continue down the street-- as if satisfied with his advice.
"You've done nothing this entire period! Nothing at all, Kageyama! Nothing at all!"
Huh.
"Don't you wanna do anything at all?"
Nothing's changed. There was no spark. Nothing.. happened.
Why did you expect this man to be different, Shigeo?
Because he looked nice?
Because you felt that, even after everything you've been through, someone out there was still good? Was still worth trusting?
They're all selfish, Shigeo. You know that. You always have. That's why I'm still here.
Kageyama straightened up, ignoring the sharp pain he earned for doing so. People began to crowd around the fleeting man, obscuring him from view.
But if you thought this world could change; that anyone was coming to save you-- you're stupider than I first took you for.
What was he hoping for again? It didn't seem to matter. He just got too excited, that's all. It was a stupid dream to think someone like that stranger could care for someone like him.
Time to head home, Shigeo. You have school tomorrow.