Cold tiles pressed against his knees. His hands were raw, plunged into dirty water as he scrubbed the floor.
"Faster, idiot!"
A heavy kick slammed into his ribs. He coughed, falling sideways into the bucket. Water splashed across the grimy bathroom floor.
Laughter filled the air.
"You can't even clean properly!" one boy jeered. Another yanked his hair, shoving his face against the wet tiles. "Say something, freak! Oh wait—you can't!"
Itsuki's lips stayed sealed. His blank eyes stared at the dripping pipes above.
"Oi. Pigs."
The laughter cut off.
"What you all doing with him?"
At the doorway stood a boy with short black hair and sharp eyes that didn't flinch. His voice was calm, but every word carried weight.
"Get lost."
The bullies sneered. "Or what?"
A crooked grin tugged at the boy's lips. "Or I'll give you a special gift."
He walked forward, knuckles tightening. A fist cracked across one bully's nose. Blood sprayed.
"AHH!" The boy howled, clutching his face.
"You want some too?" The newcomer's glare swept across them.
None of them moved. They froze—then bolted, shoes slapping against the tiles as they fled.
Only the sound of dripping water remained.
The boy crouched down. "Hey, crybaby." His tone was softer now. "You okay?"
Itsuki blinked, hesitant. Slowly, his trembling hand reached out.
The boy grasped it firmly, pulling him up. "Name's Hajime."
Later that evening, Hajime shoved a bread roll into his hands. "Eat. Don't just stare at me."
Itsuki tore a small bite with his teeth, chewing silently.
"You really don't talk, huh?" Hajime tilted his head. "Fine. You don't have to. I'll do the talking. You just listen."
For the first time, Itsuki's lips twitched. Not quite a smile, but close.
Days turned into weeks.
On the dusty orphanage yard, Hajime tossed him a wooden stick. "Here. Hold it up. Like this."
Itsuki copied his stance, arms trembling.
"Not bad," Hajime said, circling him. "Now swing. Aim for me."
Itsuki swung. Hajime blocked with ease. "Too slow! Again!"
The sticks clacked together, over and over, until Itsuki's arms burned and his knees gave out. He collapsed, panting.
Hajime plopped down beside him, grinning. "See? You're stronger than you think. One day, you'll knock me flat."
Itsuki's chest rose and fell. His lips curved—just slightly—into a fragile smile.
"Oi, you're smiling," Hajime said, pointing. "Looks weird on you. Keep practicing."
Itsuki looked away quickly, but the faint smile stayed.
That night, everything shattered.
Screams tore through the orphanage halls.
Masked men stormed inside, knives glinting under dim bulbs. Children were dragged to the main hall, shoved against the walls.
"Stay quiet!" one thief barked. "The cops are outside. We'll use you brats as shields."
Itsuki's breath came short, eyes darting.
Rough hands grabbed Hajime. A knife pressed against his throat.
"Let him go!" Hajime snarled, struggling.
"Shut up!" The thief tightened his grip, the blade cutting closer.
"No!" Itsuki stumbled forward, but another thief shoved him back.
His eyes darted desperately. Then—he saw it.
A broomstick, lying on the floor.
His fingers closed around the handle. His heart thundered.
He charged.
CRACK!
The stick slammed against the thief's wrist. The grip loosened
But the knife
It slid.
Blood sprayed across the floor.
"H… Hajime?" Itsuki's voice cracked. His arms caught Hajime's collapsing body. Red soaked his hands.
Hajime's lips moved faintly. "…I…tsu…k.i…"
"No—don't talk! Stay awake! Please!" Itsuki's tears dripped onto Hajime's face. "It's my fault… I didn't mean to—please don't die!"
But Hajime's eyes had already dulled.
"HAJIME!!!"
Itsuki's scream rattled the orphanage walls as the thieves fled and sirens wailed outside.
Days blurred into gray.
Fists struck him again. Boots slammed his ribs.
"You killed him yourself, you." "Pathetic freak."
Itsuki didn't fight back. He didn't speak.he went into that every single days
Until that day—
"…heh."
The bullies froze.
Itsuki's lips stretched into a grin. A hollow, twisted grin. His laugh broke the silence, sharp and unnatural.
"Heh… haha… HAHAHAHA!"
The laughter echoed against the bathroom tiles.
From that day, Itsuki wasn't silent anymore. He became Hajime—the only friend he had ever known.
But he couldn't fight. Every time he raised a fist, blood flashed before his eyes. The memory of his trembling hands, the blade sliding, Hajime's body falling.
And deep inside, a boy still screamed endlessly in the dark.
Itsuki gasped awake. His chest heaved, sweat and blood clinging to his skin.
In front of him, Airi stood firm, katana raised, her eyes locked on the glass figure pulsing with eerie green light.
"Stay down, Itsuki," she said, her voice steady. "I'll handle this."
His trembling fingers curled tighter around the weapon in his lap.
For a fleeting moment, Hajime's defiant stance overlapped with her silhouette.
"…Hajime…" Itsuki whispered.
The aura bracelet on his wrist flickered faintly.
A second heartbeat.