It's our secret and we won't tell anyone

"Yes, all our teachers are impressed with your son's progress and believe he is ready for the next grade level."

The headmistress had contacted Masashi Nakasima to let him know that his son had displayed exceptional academic achievement. In fact, the boy had been doing so well that he could complete his high school education faster than expected.

The student in question happened to be sitting in the office while the conversation was taking place. He watched the cherry blossoms flutter outside the window and silently listened. For him, it was a bit surreal how it was spring already, a season of new beginnings.

His brown hair was carefully combed back off his forehead, revealing his deep blue eyes. He wore a neatly ironed uniform and his shoes were polished to a shine, making him look quite different from the disheveled student he used to be.

"That will be done then. Thank you for your time."

The headmistress ended the call and smiled faintly at the student opposite her.

"Seems like you are well prepared to move forward," she said with a gentle nod.

Natsuo couldn't help but wonder if his father was even the slightest bit proud of him - but then he quickly brushed that thought out of his mind, reminding himself that he didn't have parents. He was just an orphan, abandoned when he was just a baby up for adoption, for whatever reason.

"May I excuse myself now?" he asked in a strained voice, still gazing at the dancing pink flowers swaying in the wind. The air inside the office was stale and stuffy, making it almost difficult to breathe.

"Yes, you may. You will get an upgraded class schedule from Tanaka."

Natsuo bowed formally and walked out of the grand room, closing the mahogany door behind him. As he wandered forward, he observed the bare walls and the rows of desks lined up in the empty classrooms. Everything seemed to be in shades of gray, without life or color. The hallways seemed like an endless void, mirroring the emptiness he felt inside.

Many months had passed since he first arrived. Days clouded into weeks, each feeling duller than the last. As a result, he had picked up his school books and immersed himself in his studies, hoping that time would go faster and his mind would be occupied - but day after day, his hollow feeling remained, gnawing at him like a constant hunger.

He often imagined himself walking out of the school grounds, out of the city and into the wilderness, where he could be free from all expectations and restrictions. He longed for freedom, to roam wherever he wanted and do whatever he liked, without anyone's permission.

Then, Natsuo heard a loud laugh that he immediately recognized to be Kohaku's obnoxious remarks.

"Look at him, he is so weak!"

He glanced around the corner and witnessed how the large teenager wiped a thin boy across the floor, hysterically laughing and mocking the dirt he had left behind. His two partners were cheering and encouraging him, making insults and taunts of their own.

All three repulsed Natsuo, but he couldn't help but think they weren't that different from him. Even though he ridiculed others and made fun of their misery, he never physically attacked anyone, having been beaten too much himself.

The flame within him had slowly dwindled inside the school walls - but then, as he looked at the fire extinguisher placed conveniently on the wall within reach, it flared back up.

(Later that day)

Five boarding school residents sat in detention while a wall clock ticked endlessly. The atmosphere in the empty classroom was somewhat oppressive as the minutes dragged on.

The largest and oldest of the students was digging his nose and examining the findings with morbid fascination. His head had a swollen bump from the previous altercation.

"Kohaku. Stop that immediately," the headmistress chided.

His two thin friends wearing thick eyeglasses sat in their seats, one nodding off and the other tapping his feet impatiently.

The fourth and youngest student gulped, looking anxious as he sat at his desk under the headmistress' watchful eye.

The fifth student with blue eyes sat in the corner, quietly watching as the pointer moved around the clock. He was convinced that the seconds had stopped ticking and that the minutes had actually halted, as if time itself had been held in stasis.

"Nakashima, no matter how hard you stare, it won't get faster," the headmistress stated.

The high schoolers' gray uniforms were still damp from the foam Natsuo had sprayed to stop Kohaku from terrorizing that one student. Kohaku had tried to swing his new opponent with his fist during the confrontation, but missed and slipped instead, hitting his head on the floor with a loud thud.

It got Natsuo thinking about why he had been so willing to help someone he had never met. He had certainly not been the type to stand up for someone else, let alone get physically involved in a conflict.

Natsuo glanced at the fourth student whose face had been used as a mop, seeing a resemblance between him and the little ghost from his old school. The boy had the same trembling frame and the same fearful expression as his former classmate - and for some reason, a stab of guilt struck through him.

Interrupting Kohaku made him feel more alive than being a bully. If he had known that defending someone else could make him feel so empowered, he would have done it much sooner.

The headmistress squinted at her watch and her brows wrinkled.

"Your detention has concluded. You can excuse yourself."

The five students rose up from their stools, filling the classroom with creaking sounds.

Kohaku aimed a mischievous look at his previous victim, but Natsuo blocked his sight and stepped between them, challenging the bigger bully.

"You wouldn't dare," he retorted.

The headmistress observed as the boys left the classroom, observing Nakashima for a moment before he disappeared out the door.

"I will be your senior from now on, so you better show some respect," Natsuo announced and flicked his fingers at Kohaku's head bump.

"What? No way," Kohaku replied, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Maybe if you paid more attention in class, you would - " the incoming third grader was about to scold, but his words trailed off as he realized how hypocritical he sounded, given his own disinterest in classes at his old school.

"Whatever. Just stop picking your nose. It's disgusting," he finished and tucked his hands inside his pockets, then strolled away as the other high schoolers watched after him.

(Elsewhere at the same time)

"He has lost an awful lot of weight," a homeschool teacher commented worriedly and glanced at the boy student, who was looking blankly at his desk.

"My nephew has been through a lot. Just keep a close eye on him and make sure he is doing okay," Toshiro Takuya replied, examining at the teenager’s slumped posture from the doorway.

The boy's dark hair was scruffy and his shirt hung loose on his body, as if he had outgrown it. His pale brown eyes stared at the books in front of him, but they seemed empty, like he was lost in a different world.

"Why don't we give him a day off? I'm sure he misses his home," Toshiro suggested to the homeschool teacher, who nodded her head before leaving.

The man in a dusk-blue suit walked to his nephew's desk. He kneeled down and put a hand on the boy's shoulder, causing him to jolt and glance up at his uncle startled.

"Your parents are coming to visit soon. Are you excited?" Toshiro asked in his deep voice, keeping his attention fixed on the teenager as he spoke.

Jiro lowered his head and remained silent. The man leaned in closer, his lips almost touching the boy's ear as he whispered softly.

"Let's keep everything between us, okay? It's our secret and we won't tell anyone - not even your mother and father."

Jiro's posture stiffened. He tried to turn away, but Toshiro's grip tightened on his shoulder, preventing him from doing so. Nervously, he crossed his legs and swallowed hard, when it seemed he didn't know what to say or do in response.

"Remember, you don't want to make your uncle mad. Be a good boy and do as I say," he said and wiped away the tears from the boy's face with his cigarette-scented hands.