The crowd was noisy.

Renji stood at its very center, and at the same time somewhere very far away. As if someone had inserted thick, murky glass between him and the rest of the world: laughter passed through it muffled, other people's voices blurred, emotions foreign and unreal. He lowered his gaze to the asphalt and clenched his fingers. His nails dug into the skin of his palms. The pain was sharp, concrete, honest.

I'm here. I'm still here.

That was the only way he understood it.

Why me?

The question surfaced again, as always, without warning, without an answer. He had long stopped looking for logic. There was no logic. There was only the crowd, and there was him, a point around which it revolved.

The school yard lived its usual life. Someone was discussing a math test, someone was whispering about a new scandal, someone was kicking a ball by the far wall. An ordinary day. Ordinary people. But around Renji the space behaved differently, gazes lingered for a fraction of a second longer than necessary, voices quieted at his approach and regained their sharpness behind his back. He felt this just as distinctly as he felt the cold of the asphalt through his soles.

- Hey. That asshole again?

- Seriously? He's here again?

Renji didn't turn around. He already knew what he would see.

It wasn't a matter of weakness, he had understood that long ago. It didn't matter who started it first and why. What mattered was something else: the crowd had found a target. Like a pack that has caught the scent of blood, they didn't think separately, they felt together. One common enemy, one common contempt, one common power. A scapegoat is not a person. It's a function. And Renji performed it faithfully.

On that day, under the thunder of laughter that sounded to him like a verdict being handed down, his school nightmare acquired its final name.

Only images remained in memory, sharp, without context, without beginning or end.

Dirty tile of the locker room against his cheek. Sole prints on the white uniform. The metallic taste of blood that lingers long, even when it no longer hurts. Each time he told himself the same thing: the last time. And each time he was wrong. So consistently that it had almost become a tradition.

Almost.

- Renji.

A voice, too close.

He slowly raised his head.

Familiar faces. Identical smiles. Eyes that held nothing but boredom and anticipation. The circle around him tightened, not sharply, but smoothly, the way a noose tightens when no one is in a hurry. The world behind their backs seemed to cease to exist.

But Renji looked through them.

He was thinking of something else. Of that thought which had once taken root, quietly, imperceptibly, and had not gone anywhere since. It only grew.

If the pain doesn't stop… then it needs to be redirected.

The corner of his lips barely twitched.

They didn't notice. They weren't interested in looking at his face, only in watching him shrink. They were accustomed to a certain picture. They weren't expecting anything new.

Too bad.

The day was drawing to a close when it happened.

Renji pushed open the door of the school bathroom and immediately felt it: something was wrong. The air was different. Too quiet for a place that was usually noisy.

They were already inside. Several familiar faces, tense, angry, whispering about something of their own. At his appearance the conversation cut off. Gazes slid over him with familiar cold interest.

But there was one more.

In the corner, by the last stall, stood a man Renji had not seen before. Not a student, that was clear at first glance. Too tall, too heavy, with stubble on his face that doesn't grow during school years. A stranger within these walls. And yet here.

- Who are you? Renji's voice came out quieter than he wanted.

The man looked at him unhurriedly. The way one looks at something known in advance and uninteresting.

Kaoru sends his regards, he said simply. Says you've been too relaxed lately. That needs to be fixed. You forgot your place.

Renji felt something tighten in his chest, not fear, not quite fear, something colder.

- When I'm able to fight back... he began, and the words came out heavy, almost solemn. I swear, I...

The man's leg swung up, sharply, unexpectedly and stopped a centimeter from the air in front of him. Just a check. Just a swing.

Renji flinched.

From the swing.

The man lowered his leg and smirked, slowly, with pleasure. He didn't hit. Why would he? Everything had already been said. Better than any words.

Renji walked out of the bathroom without looking back. He walked quickly, until the school building was left far behind, until the air became simply air again. He stopped, leaned against a wall and exhaled.

They didn't touch him. This time they didn't touch him.

That should have been a relief. Perhaps once it had been.

He looked at his hands. His nails had left small red crescents in his palms.

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.

Renji sat on the floor, his back against the cold wall. The lights in the room were off only a dim glow from the street slowly crawled across the ceiling, as if hesitant to descend. He stared into space, but it wasn't her he saw.

The smell of damp.

Sharp, sour.

A school restroom.

He winced, as if the memory were a physical blow.

That man had appeared suddenly. Not a student that was immediately clear. His steps were too heavy, his gaze too calm. Renji had been washing his hands, the water running too loudly, as if deliberately trying to drown out the tension that hung in the air.

"Hey," his voice was low. "You."

Renji didn't answer. He turned off the water, slowly wiped his hands on his pants, and looked up. The mirror reflected them both: a teenager with tired eyes and an adult man standing too close, too confident. "Do you know what happens to those who meddle too much in things that aren't their business?" he asked, tilting his head slightly.

Renji felt something twitch inside. Not fear, anger. That familiar anger, sticky like blood on his knuckles. He clenched his fists before he even realized what he was doing.

"Get away," he said quietly.

The man chuckled. One step forward.

And then everything went blurry. The rush of blood in his ears, the shortness of his breath, the thought if I don't strike now, I'll lose. His shoulder jerked, his body ready to lunge forward

"RENJI!"

Akio's voice hit harder than any fist.

He stood in the doorway, out of breath, with that expression on his face that Renji hated most: not anger, not fear weary disappointment.

"Are you picking a fight again?" Akio said. Calm. Too calm.

Renji froze. His fists were still clenched, but his body had become unresponsive. The man muttered something, retreated, and vanished as suddenly as he had appeared. All that remained was the smell and the disgusting feeling, as if you had just been tested and you don't know if you passed.

Akio came closer.

"Do you understand how this could end?" he asked quietly. "You're not a father."

That phrase hit him the hardest.

Renji closed his eyes.

Father.

The image of the bars, the dim light of the cell, the heavy gaze through the glass flashed through his mind. The last conversation. A voice that no longer held any strength only regret and something akin to shame.

"Don't repeat my mistakes," his father had said then.

But Renji still couldn't figure out what exactly.

He exhaled slowly and stared into the darkness of his room. The past wouldn't let go. It didn't scream it simply sat nearby, like a shadow, a reminder: blood runs in the family.

Renji ran his hand over his face. His hands trembled not from fear, but from the fact that he was once again on the brink. And next time, Akio might not make it in time.

"I don't want to be like him..." Renji whispered into the void.

But the void, as always, didn't answer.