Larna clenched his fists and looked down. Why does this have to happen to me? He had been living a peaceful life. He had never cared about making friends or working for something. He never bothered anybody. Why didn’t Garuma just bully someone else?! In his classroom were another thirty students to choose from. Why me?!

  It was simple—he was the weakest of his classmates.

  But still, he also had pride. That had been the only thing that to this point had kept him from becoming one of Garuma’s followers.

  Cold sweat ran down his back as he muttered. ”Sorry”

  "I see…" Garuma hissed.

  He rose from the table and stretched his arm towards Larna. Larna leaned back as he looked at the giant’s palm.

  "Give me a spoon. I don't like to eat this way."

  Larna's clenched fists trembled. He knew he was pathetic. But what kind of person would he be if he helped that bully eat the lunch his mother had prepared for him?

  “I can't.” He mumbled.

  Garuma yanked Larna by the collar of his uniform, pulling him closer to his irritated face.

  "What?"

  Larna stared down, his arms hanging limply at his sides. I'm tired

  "Sorry," he mumbled

  Garuma tsked and threw Larna away, making him trip over the chair at his back and stumble on the floor. His body jerked from the impact on his back. He looked up with a grimace to see how the bully tilted the bowl, making all the hot food fall over him.

  ”You'll live in hell.” Garuma said before walking away.

  Larna's dull eyes looked up at the ceiling. His uniform was sticky and soaked, and his abdomen burned because of the hot beans.

  Larna mindlessly saw the time pass until the ring sounded again, and a lively compound of voices and laughs drowned the place.

  He quickly stood up from the chair. He wanted to reach home, to lock himself in his bedroom and drown in anything that could make him forget, and not think about the future.

  He passed by the classroom door when he heard a voice coming from his back... He kept walking, but a hand grabbed his forearm. He tsked before looking back with a frown.

  It was a boy from his classroom. He had black spiky hair and was the same height as him. His intense coffee eyes widened, maybe because of Larna’s reaction, but they narrowed as he loosened his grip on Larna's hand.

  The boy scanned Larna’s uniform. He had tried to make the stains disappear with water in the bathroom, but it left traces.

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  “Are you okay? Your clothes seem a mess.”

  “Yes, I'm okay.” Larna turned and walked away. He tsked as he felt the weight of the boy's gaze on his back. Mind your own business.

  Luckily, he didn't encounter his parents or sister on the way to his room. He stumbled on his bed. His eyes were bleak, as if he were a corpse.

  The next days were similar. Silent breakfasts, promptly answering when his family asked him anything. Bullied by Garuma at school. Return home and turn on the pc. Drown in all kinds of distractions from reality.

  The last was the only enjoyable part of the day. And still, every time he did it, a dark, unpleasant, heavy sensation grew on him. It clenched his chest and dulled his entire body.

  Every day, he felt deeper into an abyss, only increasing his negative thoughts and that dark sensation that drowned him.

  On Friday morning, Larna let his body fall onto the chair and stared mindlessly at the breakfast in front of him. Why don't I eat it? I defended mom’s lunch so much, and now I am depreciating her food. Larna sighed. What's the point of me?

  He grabbed his backpack and left home. He didn't take his headphones, but it didn't matter. He had already tried it, but music could not dull the expanding darkness on him. His bleak eyes caught the peeps of other students. It may have been because of his baggy eyes and his messed-up hair. Or that I’m simply horrible.

  He spent the class staring at the blank pages in his notebook. The voices in his head were too loud for him to hear the professor's explanations.

  At lunch time, Garuma entered the classroom. Larna was seated in his chair, looking down at his lunch in the bowl.

  Garuma took the lunch above the table with a whistle. ”Such a good service! Don’t you think, Larna?”

  The silence settled in the classroom as Larna stared down at the table. His fists didn't clench anymore, nor did he feel angry or sad. He was just bleak.

  ”Hey, I asked you something!” Garuma said, grabbing Larna's hair.

  He pulled it up, forcing Larna to look at him. Larna stared directly at Garuma’s eyes. He didn’t fear him anymore, or at least, he couldn’t feel his own fear. If possible, he just wished to evade the physical pain.

  Garuma grew silent for some minutes, glaring at Larna. He loosened his grip on his hair, and Larna's head lolled forward.

  “Shit. I don't want you in my clan anymore. ”

  Larna heard Garuma’s steps as he reached the door and slammed it closed. He sighed and rested his head on the table.

  Then the door creaked open, and with lighter steps someone stopped near him.

  ”Are you okay?”

  “Yes,” Larna mumbled without turning his head to see who had asked.

  “I saw what happened. Your hair is a mess…” the person said in a casual tone, clumsily trying to be friendly in such a heavy context.

  Breaking the silence, two hands stomped against the table.

  ”Why didn’t you fight back?!”

  Larna kept silent, watching the rough hands push harder against the table. Why does this person care?

  "Because I’m weak." He said, tilting his head to glance at the person who was worrying about him.

  The boy who had talked to him that day gazed down at Larna.

  “When I saw you in the Battle Center, screaming with emotion among all the spectators, you know what I thought? The boy's frown deepened. "I thought, ‘That boy is amazing!’”

  The boy’s gaze speared Larna.

  “But I see I was wrong. You are the worst kind of weakling. You know why?"

  “Because you are using your weakness as an excuse. You use it to evade your dreams and objectives. It is a pathetic excuse for staying the same.”