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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

The old train station was a place people had long forgotten. Rusted tracks stretched into nothingness, overgrown with weeds. The paint on the benches peeled like dead skin, and the air carried the scent of rain that never came.

Rin didn't know why his feet had brought him here.

Maybe it was curiosity. Maybe it was guilt.

Maybe it was something else—something he didn't want to name.

Aoi was sitting on the edge of the platform, legs dangling over the side.

She didn't turn when he approached.

"You're not exactly hard to find," Rin said.

Aoi exhaled a laugh. "Didn't think anyone was looking."

Rin hesitated, then sat down beside her. They didn't speak for a while.

The sky burned orange, slowly bleeding into night.

"Why are you here?" he asked instead.

Aoi leaned back on her palms, staring up at the sky. "I just… needed some space."

Then, she said, almost too softly, "You ever feel like you don't belong anywhere?"

For once, she wasn't teasing him. There was no grin, no sarcasm—just a quiet understanding that made Rin feel exposed.

Aoi kicked her feet lightly. "I used to come here with my brother."

Aoi smiled, but it was the same empty one from before. "Yeah. Used to."

The weight of unspoken things hung between them.

Rin didn't ask. Aoi didn't explain.

But for some reason, they both stayed.

Chapter 9:The station at dust