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Seventeen-year-old Rin Asakura is tired. Tired of pretending, tired of hoping, and tired of waking up to another day that feels the same. On the surface, he is just another quiet student, drifting through high school unnoticed. But inside, he carries an unbearable weight—the fear of being forgotten, the pain of feeling useless, and the exhaustion of existing without purpose.

His world is a cycle of loneliness and self-doubt, where every interaction feels like a performance. He used to believe things would get better, but now, he isn’t so sure. His only solace is in late-night walks, the quiet hum of the city, and the thought that maybe, just maybe, tomorrow won’t come.

But then he meets Aoi, a girl who hides her own scars behind a bright smile. She seems untouchable, always laughing, always surrounded by people. Yet, Rin notices the way her hands tremble when she thinks no one is looking. And somehow, their paths keep crossing.

As their fragile connection deepens, Rin starts to wonder—is it possible to share the weight of suffering? Or will opening up only make things worse?

When the past comes crashing back and secrets unravel, Rin is forced to face the one question he’s been avoiding: Does he want to live, or does he just not want to die?

The Weight Of Tomorrow

Rin wasn't sure if he wanted her to.

She leaned against the railing beside him, gazing out at the city like she had nowhere else to be. The rooftop was usually his escape—his one quiet place where no one asked him to be anything. But now, someone was here.

He should have walked away. But instead, he stayed.

"You always eat lunch up here?" Aoi asked, tilting her head slightly.

"I don't eat lunch," Rin muttered.

Aoi let out a short laugh. "What, too cool for the cafeteria?"

Silence stretched between them, but it wasn't uncomfortable. That was the strange part. Rin wasn't used to people who didn't force conversation, who didn't expect him to respond a certain way.

"You don't talk much, huh?" she said eventually.

Aoi didn't push. Instead, she pulled a juice box out of her pocket, stabbing the straw in with practiced ease. "Guess that makes things easier for me. People talk too much anyway."

She took a sip, eyes fixed on the horizon. "It's kinda funny. Everyone thinks I love talking. Being loud, being social. But honestly?" She let out a breath. "It's exhausting."

Rin glanced at her. That shadow in her eyes—it wasn't his imagination.

"I don't get it," he said. "You always seem fine."

Aoi smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Yeah. That's the point."

Something about the way she said it made Rin's stomach twist. Because he knew exactly what she meant.

Aoi tapped her juice box, considering. "Same reason as you, probably."

Rin hesitated. He didn't know why, but for the first time in a long time, he felt like maybe—just maybe—someone would actually listen.

But before he could say anything, the rooftop door creaked open.

Aoi's expression shifted in an instant, like a mask snapping into place. She turned, her usual carefree grin back on her face.

"There you are, Sakamura!" A group of students stood in the doorway, waving her over. "Skipping lunch again? C'mon, we're heading to the café after school."

Aoi waved back. "Yeah, yeah, I'm coming." She shot Rin a look, something unreadable in her expression. Then, with a small nod, she walked away, disappearing down the stairs with the others.

Rin stood there, staring at the empty space where she had been.

People like her weren't supposed to understand people like him.

Chapter 2: People like us