Prologue (Short)

People frequently encourage others not to look back and to go on with their lives, but do you truly believe as a person or an individual that it is that simple?

I don't think so. I can provide thousands of examples of people who have not recovered from past tragedies, and I am one of those people who has refused to face a terrible reality.

I'm Nishida Takashi, a 16-year-old lad who has lost his family; sorry, lost isn't the right term; more like pushed out of the family. My mother's comments before she hauled me out of the home are still fresh in my mind. "You fucking scumbag, I don't want a son like you." It still hurts my heart to remember those comments from my mother, whom I adored. It's odd that I'm still recalling the things that make me want to commit suicide, but then again, I'm one of those individuals who can't seem to get over anything.

I don't enjoy talking about my past since expressing it to someone won't make my suffering go away. "Pain Lessens When It's Shared, "Yes, you read that correctly. Such intellectual words do not hold any meaning to me. Because they don't have any values in real life.

My given name means "praiseworthy." It was given to me by my late grandfather, who was one of the few individuals who actually loved me till the day he died.

But I believe the moniker he conferred is a waste because I've never done anything that would be considered honorable in retrospect. People around me were always disappointed. The more I strive to impress them, the louder they say in my ear, "That a poor product cannot be improved." And I'm listening to their remarks with a heavy heart. I want to scream and cry, but then a ray of hope appears and encourages me to keep going.

Should I keep going?

Should I perish?

Should I vanish?

These emotions never leave me, as if they're permanently linked to my ears, reminding me that I'm a bad product that no one wants.

I'm exhausted. That's it.

Introvert This term has grown so common these days that people frequently pretend to be one when they are not. If I had to characterize myself, I'd say I'm a nobody with nothing notable about me.

"My, sweet, handsome, Takashi, where should grandpa go next?" "Do you want to ride in that?"

"Takashi is coming to enjoy ice cream with her grandmother. Takashi, won't you?"

That's my grandparents fussing over me. Those were the days when I was still cheerful and carefree. My grandfather died after a heart attack last year. I was in school at the time when I found out Grandpa had passed away. I've never cried so hard for anyone or anything in my life as I did for my grandfather. Grandma held me while wiping her tears away and saying, "Takashi, everything will be alright. Your grandfather is now in a better place. What would he think if you cry like that? That Takashi is weak." I held her as tears streamed down my cheeks. That day, my grandmother and I cried all night.

....

{Okihara is the next station.}

The announcement reached my ears as I rose up from my seat, allowing an elderly lady to take my place.

I was on the street for 17 hours after being kicked out of my parent's house when I received a call on my cell phone from my grandmother. When she found out I'd been sent out, she became enraged and protested with my parents, but she couldn't persuade them. She instructed me to come to Okihara, the little town where my grandmother resided and where I was raised.

I set out for Okihara with a thousand yen in my pocket and some of my clothing in my suitcase.

That brings us to the present.

.

.

As I stepped off the train, the station appeared. The platform was fairly packed owing to a well-known event that took place in this town every year. I've experienced this quite a lot of times with my grandparents, but now witnessing this brings no joy to me. Being in a crowd suffocates me. I've already acclimated to being alone since my grandfather died, and I want to do so in the future.

My grandmother's house was not far away, so I chose to walk instead of taking a cab.

As I wandered through the streets, I saw familiar places. the park where my grandparents used to take me. The ice cream shop was in the same location as previously. Nothing much has changed in this town. If anything has significantly changed, it is me.

I arrived at my grandmother's house after ten minutes of strolling. I approached the door gently and knocked twice.

"Who is it?" A sound emerged from within the house; it was Grandma's voice, which sounded like honey to my ears.

"It's me," I wanted to say. But I couldn't say a single thing. I waited calmly for my grandmother to open the door.

"Why aren't you answering? -Takashi"

She yelled as she opened the door, her face turned with surprise.

I remained silent. I hugged her and burst into tears from the agony I'd been trying to keep under control.

"Grandma, Sob* I'm No Good, Sob*"

''It's okay, you're here now, and nobody will hurt you anymore." She stroked my head.

I don't know what will happen here from now on, but I plan to remain.