Chapter Text
When the train doors clattered open with a loud metallic screech, Sakura winced as the cold breath of the wind whipped across his face. This wasn’t Makochi.
This was a city of towering skyscrapers that blocked out the sky, of grey crowds trampling over one another to get ahead, and above all, of strangers who
had never even heard the name Bofurin.
Sakura clutched the package against his chest, tucking it a little tighter under his jacket. Every time he saw Nirei’s old notebook, with its falling-out pages and layers of peeling tape, his chest felt a strange, uncomfortable pang.
That kid wrote down everything on those flimsy sheets: information on everyone at Furin, the names of the local shopkeepers, everything.
Ever since Sakura heard about a very special, handcrafted leather notebook sitting in a store display window in this city, he hadn't been able to get it out of his head. He had to get it for Nirei’s upcoming birthday. And he did.
But the cost had been heavy.
He pulled his wallet from his pocket and looked inside. His round-trip train ticket rested in one corner, but other than that, only a few hundred-yen coins remained.
His rent for the month, the money for the meals he’d eat at Kotoha’s café, he had left every last coin in his pocket at that shop. Right now, he was a broke delinquent in an unfamiliar city, his stomach growling with hunger.
The moment he stepped off the station platform and headed toward the main street, the familiar yet repulsive atmosphere of the world outside crashed over him like a nightmare.
Back in Makochi, the shopkeepers would wave at him, and the older ladies would call out, "Sakura-kun!" He had gotten so used to that place that he had momentarily forgotten how disgusting the rest of the world could be.
The people here weren't just looking at him; it was as if they were tearing him apart with their eyes.
"Look at him, half his hair is white and half is black..."
Two college students walking toward him slowed their pace the moment they spotted Sakura.
One of them leaned into his friend's ear while pointing at Sakura’s hair and eyes, but his voice was loud enough for Sakura to hear perfectly:
"Doesn't he look like a freak? Seriously, like he escaped from a circus. Look at his eye color, he definitely has some disease. Walk past him fast, he looks like trouble, let's not get dragged into anything."
Sakura’s steps froze in the wind. He clenched his fists inside his jacket pockets so hard that his fingernails dug into his palms, threatening to break the skin.
He ground his teeth together.
His ears flushed bright red instantly, but this time it wasn't out of embarrassment, it was from thee helpless rage surging through his
veins.
Freak.
That cursed word, which had hunted him since childhood, had tracked him down instantly even after changing cities.
"Hey, look here, kid!"
Sakura slowly raised his head. Two men in suits standing in front of a luxury store were glaring at him. One of them grimaced while making a "go away" gesture with his hand.
"Don't hang around here, you're scaring the customers. Take your trashy delinquent look and your dyed hair to another neighborhood. We know exacty what kind of scum your type is, so get the hell out of here!"
The surrounding crowd stopped and began to stare at them. No one defended Sakura.
No one said, "Why are you insulting this kid like that?" On the contrary, he saw that cold, judgmental, and disgusted look in the eyes of the onlookers, practically saying,
"They're right, he should get out." A mother quickly turned the head of her small child, who had locked eyes with Sakura’s golden iris, and whispered,
"Don't look that way, sweetie. We don't look at bad people."
Bad person.
Freak.
Delinquent.
Monster...
A knot formed in Sakura’s throat. If he wasn't holding the package against his chest, he might have lunged at those men and torn this city apart with his fists. But he couldn't.
If he got into a fight, the police would come, he would miss his train, and most importantly, Nirei’s gift, that beautiful leather notebook, would get torn and covered in mud. He couldn't ruin his friend's birthday.
"Shut up..."
Sakura muttered, his voice swallowed by the wind. He lowered his gaze entirely to the ground. The black and white strands of his hair fell over his eyes like a curtain.
"I wasn't... planning on staying anyway."
He quickly turned around and began walking away from the street. He didn't know where he was going. His feet just wanted to hurl him somewhere deserted, where people wouldn't throw their poisonous glares at him.
As he walked at a breakneck pace, he couldn't stop his vision from blurring slightly. Angry at himself, he screamed inwardly,
"Don't you dare cry! You're going to be the leader of Furin, you can't be this weak!"
Eventually, he found himself in a small, abandoned-looking playground with rusty swings. There was no one around.
He collapsed onto a bench in a shaded corner. He pulled out the package he had been clutching against his chest so it wouldn't blow away and set it on his lap.
He gently wiped the dust off the blue wrapping paper with his hand. His stomach ached painfully from hunger, his fingertips were numb from the cold, and he didn't have a single yen left to give his landlord.
When he returned to school tomorrow, he probably wouldn't even be able to stand up straight from starvation.
But looking at the notebook,
he pictured Nirei’s happy face....
"It'll be worth it..." he whispered to himself, letting out a trembling breath.
"For Nirei, it'll be worth it."
Just then, the crunch of gravel was heard at the entrance of the park. Footsteps were approaching Sakura. When Sakura raised his head with a scowl, he saw three guys wearing the local high school uniform, hands in their pockets, smirking mockingly as they stared at his hair.
The steps of the three teenagers entering through the rusty iron gate echoed with a crushing noise on the gravel.
Sakura slowly unzipped his jacket and slipped the package inside onto his lap. The notebook was safe. Right on his chest, right beside his heart. He would never let anything happen to it.
"Hey, look at this. It really was true," said the kid walking in front, his collar unbuttoned.
He stopped right in front of the bench with a nasty smirk.
"Our guys said they saw a freak at the station, but I didn't believe them. What's with your hair, man? Looks like you left half of it unpainted. Or did a paint bucket spill on your head?"
The other two standing behind him burst out laughing. The taller one pointed at the scar on Sakura’s face.
"His face is all messed up, too. Look at him, a total circus escapee. And what about his eyes? One of them is glowing golden yellow. Hey, mutant! Do you even know how to talk, or do you just growl?"
Sakura’s chest heaved rapidly as he took deep breaths. He ground his teeth so hard that his jawline stood out sharply from the outside.
Normally, if someone had said even a fraction of those words to him in the past, he would have already shattered their jaw and pinned them to the concrete floor. But now...
Now he didn't even budge. He kept his eyes fixed on the dried leaves under the bench.
"What's this? Gone quiet? Scared?"
The kid in front leaned down, bringing his face close to Sakura’s. The foul stench of cigarette smoke from his mouth hit Sakura’s nose.
"We know your kind all too well. Coming from out of town, strutting around here trying to play gang member. But that crap doesn't work here. You're nothing more than a pathetic, disgusting freak. People want to throw up when they look at your face, you realize that? I wish you were never even born, at least the world wouldn't be filthy."
I wish you were never even born.
That sentence awakened those old voices echoing in the dark rooms of his childhood.
It was like a poisonous arrow piercing his soul. The wild beast inside him bared its claws, screaming at Sakura, "Hit them! Tear this place apart! Show those bastards calling you a freak what's what!"
Sakura’s right hand formed a fist inside his jacket pocket, starting to tremble. One move...
With just a single move, he could lay all three of them out on the ground. He was more than strong enough to do it.
But he didn't. He slowly relaxed his fist.
Because Umemiya had told him something:
Bofurin's fists are only meant for protecting people..
These kids weren't pillaging a shop right now. They weren't attacking someone weak on the street, an old lady, or a little child.
They weren't causing physical harm to anyone. They were just... playing with him.
Their insults were targeted solely at Sakura himself. If they were saying these things right now to a woman or to someone who couldn't defend themselves like Nirei, Sakura would bring the world down on their heads.
But when the only one hurting was himself, he wasn't going to engage in a selfish fight that would tarnish Bofurin's name. He was no longer that wild kid who lashed out just because he was in pain.
"Boring,"
one of the kids complained, disappointed by Sakura swallowing the insults without giving any reaction.
"He's so pathetic his tongue froze from fear. Let's go, he's not even worth dealing with. Looking at his face ruins your mood anyway."
The kid in front kicked the side of the bench hard. The metal structure shuddered with a loud bang, but Sakura didn't even flinch.
As the teenagers turned around and walked away from the park with mocking laughs, Sakura was still staring at the ground.
After they left, the park fell completely silent. Sakura touched the package inside his jacket. Nothing had happened to the notebook. It was completely intact.
The heavy insults he had swallowed swelled like a lump in his throat.
His eyes filled with tears, but he didn't let a single drop fall. He turned his gaze to the sky. Darkness was beginning to settle, and the cold of the unfamiliar city bit into his skin even harder.
He pulled the coins out of his pocket and tossed them into his palm. His stomach was twisting from hunger, but he didn't care at all. The wound opened by those words hurt far more than his hunger.
Just then, the phone in his other jacket pocket began to vibrate and ring loudly. When he saw the name on the screen, Sakura’s heart skipped a beat.
.
.
.
.
Caller: Suo.