Chapter 11: The weight of emptiness

Days blurred together. The city didn't stop, didn't slow down for anyone—least of all Rei.

Classes passed in a haze, words floating around him without meaning. His father hadn't called, hadn't checked in. Not that Rei expected him to. The apartment felt more like a waiting room than a home, a temporary space with no warmth.

He kept his head down, avoiding trouble. But trouble had a way of finding him.

The group from before—the ones who cornered him—hadn't forgotten. They didn't attack outright, but their presence lingered. A shove in the hallway. A stolen notebook. A low chuckle as they walked past. Small things. Just enough to remind him that he was alone.

And then there was Tsubaki.

She wasn't a friend. She wasn't an enemy. She was… there.

Sometimes she sat near him at lunch, even if they didn't talk. Other times, she'd casually interrupt when the other students messed with him, like she had better things to do but couldn't ignore it either.

"You let them do whatever they want, huh?" she muttered one day, stabbing her chopsticks into her food.

Rei didn't respond. What was he supposed to say? That he was used to it? That it was easier to let it happen?

Tsubaki exhaled through her nose. "It's kinda pathetic."

Rei's fingers twitched. He should have been annoyed. Maybe he was.

She looked at him, tilting her head. "You ever think about fighting back?"

He had. He still did. But not in the way she meant.

Not with fists.

With his power.

The hunger inside him had been growing. Every time someone sneered at him, every time he felt the weight of loneliness pressing against his ribs, it whispered to him.

One touch.

That's all it would take.

He could make them feel what he felt. Drown them in the emptiness clawing at his chest.

But he didn't.

Because if he started… he wasn't sure he could stop.

---

That night, the dreams returned.

Not memories. Not exactly.

They were more like echoes—familiar voices twisting into something monstrous.

Mei's voice.

"Rei, you know that's not going to help, right? No one is going to believe you."

His father's voice.

"You think anyone cares about you?"

The voices overlapped, warping into something else.

Then—hands. Reaching for him. Dragging him down.

He woke up gasping, sweat clinging to his skin.

The hunger inside him stirred.

And this time… it was harder to ignore.