Renji walked home slowly, as if the asphalt itself resisted every step.His school uniform still smelled like the restroom cheap soap, damp tiles, and something metallic that refused to fade. He wasn’t injured. Not really. But his body remembered everything. The shove. His back hitting the wall. The man’s hoarse voice far too old to belong anywhere near a school. He didn’t look back.
Even now – he didn’t.
The ringing in his ears wasn’t from the impact.
It was from the words.
“Know your place.”
Renji clenched his fists inside his jacket pockets. His nails dug into his skin. He didn’t allow himself to exhale-exhaling would mean weakness, and today, weakness was unacceptable.
His house appeared sooner than he expected.
The light in the window was on.
Akio was already home.
For some reason, that irritated him.
He took off his shoes quietly, almost silently, but one floorboard still betrayed him with a sharp creak. A moment later, a voice came from the kitchen:
“You’re late.”
Calm. Even.
Too calm.
“I stayed after school,” Renji replied without lifting his head.He hung his jacket on the hook, but it slipped and fell to the floor. Renji didn’t pick it up right away. He just stared at it as if it weren’t a piece of clothing, but something alive that he had dropped.Akio stepped out of the kitchen, drying his hands with a towel. His older brother looked like he’d had a normal day: clean shirt, composed expression, not a hint of fatigue. That only made things worse.
“Did you get into another fight?” Akio asked.
It wasn’t really a question.
Akio never asked without already knowing.
“No.”
Short. Final.
Akio studied him more closely. His gaze was always like that as if he could see not the person, but the cracks inside them.
“Your shoulder’s tense.”
“I’m just tired.”
“Renji.”
The name landed heavily. Like an anchor.
Renji walked past him into his room and dropped his bag on the floor. The chair scraped against the desk with a dull thud. He sat on the bed, elbows resting on his knees.
“Everything’s fine at school,” he said, staring at the floor.
Silence stretched.
Akio entered the room and leaned against the wall, not coming any closer. He always did that left space. Somehow, that was worse than pressure.
“In the school restroom?” Akio said calmly.
Renji snapped his head up.
“Are you following me?”
“No.”
A pause.
“But you’re bad at lying.”
Renji let out a crooked smirk.
“Guess I’m a bad student.”
“Guess you’re my brother.”
The words hit harder than the man had.
Renji looked away.
“It was an adult,” he said finally. “Not a teacher. Someone… else.”
“What was he doing at school?”
“Talking.”
“What did he say?”
Renji fell silent. Something inside him tightened again. He felt something dark rising, anger, shame, the urge to punch the wall.
“It doesn’t matter.”
Akio stepped closer and sat down across from him so their eyes were level.
“If you say ‘it doesn’t matter’ one more time,” Akio said quietly, “I’ll go there myself.”
Renji froze.
“Don’t.”
“Then talk.”
A long pause.
Seconds dragged on.
“He said I think too highly of myself,” Renji finally muttered. “That people like me should know their place.”
Akio didn’t respond right away. His face stayed calm, but his jaw tightened.
“And what did you do?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re lying.”
“I didn’t fall, if that’s what you mean.”
Akio exhaled.
“Renji…”
“I handled it,” Renji snapped. “I always do.”
“One day you won’t.”
Silence filled the room again.
Renji stood up.
“If you’re done, I want to be alone.”Akio stood as well.”You don’t have to carry this alone.”Renji stopped by the window. Outside, the evening looked ordinary. “I know,” he said quietly. “But I still will.”Akio looked at his back.”Then at least remember this,” he said. “If you decide to answer… do it consciously. Not out of anger.”Renji didn’t reply.He stared at his reflection in the glass and thought that anger was the only thing keeping him upright.
