Matsushima is a place where the sea kisses the sky, and the baby blue eyes flowers stretch endlessly across the fields, like a carpet of dreams. I used to think the world was beautiful, that everything had a place, a purpose. But now, the days blend into each other, a haze of routine and sadness. I'm Kenji, just another teenage boy, but my life feels like a battle I can't win.
"Kenji, get ready! Soccer practice starts in thirty minutes!" my mom calls out from downstairs.
Soccer used to be my escape, the one place where my mind could be free. But recently, it had become another battlefield. The stronger boys, with their swift legs and powerful kicks, made sure I knew my place. I could hear their taunts even now, echoing in my mind.
As I lace up my cleats, I think about Angel. She's not real—just a character in my favourite game, Bomberman—but sometimes, I wish she could leap out of the screen and into my life. Angel is a Louie, an aqua-blue kangaroo with a lavender ribbon on her ear. She's brave, strong, and always knows what to do.
Unlike me.
The soccer field is buzzing with energy. The stronger boys are already there, their laughter sharp and cutting. I try to focus on the ball, but their whispers and sneers pierce through my concentration.
"Hey, Kenji, try not to trip over your own feet today!" one of them jeers.
I force a smile, trying to ignore the heat rising in my cheeks. But as the game starts, their words become more than just words—they're weights, pulling me down, making every step harder. When I miss a pass, the laughter erupts, louder and more painful than before.
"Nice job, loser!" another boy shouts, and the words hit me like a punch to the gut.
After practice, I drag myself to my special education class. The teachers are kind, but the walls feel like they're closing in. Today, the lesson is about fractions. My mind is already frazzled, and the numbers swim before my eyes, blurring into meaningless shapes. I try to focus, but frustration builds until it explodes.
"Kenji, it's okay," the teacher says softly. But it's not okay. Nothing is okay.
I slam my hands on the desk, my vision clouded by tears. "I can't do this! I can't!"
The room falls silent, and I can feel everyone's eyes on me. I bolt out of the classroom, the shame burning hotter than the summer sun.
Keita finds me later, sitting by myself in the courtyard. Her presence is like a balm, but today, even she can't reach the pain inside me.
"Kenji, what happened?" she asks, her voice gentle.
I shake my head, unable to meet her eyes. "I'm done, Keita. I can't go back there. I can't."
She tries to argue, to find a way to make it better, but there's no solution for this. "I'm going futoko," I say finally, my voice breaking.
Her eyes widen in shock, but she doesn't argue. Instead, she hugs me, and I cling to her, feeling the weight of my decision settle in.
At home, I tell my parents. They exchange worried glances but don't argue. They call the school, and I hear the words "school refusal" echoing through the house. It feels like another defeat, another confirmation that I'm not strong enough.
I retreat to my room, the only place where I can breathe. Bomberman is already on, and as I pick up the controller, Angel's bright form fills the screen. For a while, I lose myself in the game, pretending that I'm as brave as she is.
Night falls, and I prepare for bed, my mind racing with what-ifs and fears. Tomorrow will be my first day of futoko. What will I do? Where will I go?
Morning comes, and the house is eerily quiet. My parents have gone to work, leaving me to navigate this new reality alone. I decide to go for a walk, to clear my head. The streets of Matsushima are empty, the baby blue eyes flowers swaying gently in the breeze.
And that's when I see her.
She's small, with fur the colour of the sky and a lavender ribbon on her ear. My heart skips a beat. It can't be real, but there she is—a Louie, just like Angel from my game. She looks lost, scared.
"Hey there," I whisper, crouching down. "Are you lost?"
She looks at me with wide, trusting eyes, and I feel a connection, a bond that goes beyond words. I decide to take her home, to give her a place where she belongs. "I'll call you Angel," I say, and she nuzzles against my hand, as if understanding.
For the first time in a long time, I feel a spark of hope. Maybe, just maybe, things can get better. With Angel by my side, I'm not alone anymore. We have each other, and that's enough.
As we walk home, the flowers around us seem to bloom brighter, the sky looks bluer, and for the first time, I feel like I belong.
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