𝕊𝕡𝕚𝕣𝕚𝕥 || 𝕂𝕪𝕠 𝕊𝕠𝕙𝕞𝕒

A Boy With No Name

"When I was young, I used to have the same dream all the time. Even now, it comes back to me every once in a while.

In the dream, I'm a shy little girl again, crying in the middle of the sidewalk. Of course, it's not to anyone who can hear me. And the people who can hear me just don't care enough to ask who I'm saying sorry to. They just walk by, ignoring the little girl sniffling alone in the middle of the street like it's a common thing to see.

They act like I don't exist. And, to be honest, I wish that I didn't exist.

I hear his voice in my head, speaking neither coldly nor warmly.

"I have work to get done, Shojiro. Find some other place to keep yourself occupied."

He would call me that without thinking. I don't think he ever even noticed. I'm pretty sure I understand though; I've been told I look a lot like him.

I'm trying to wipe away the tears on my face with the sleeve of my sweater. It doesn't do anything, though, because the tears keep on falling.

I guess I just do it in the hopes that it might eventually stop, if not slow down even a little bit.

I don't even know why I'm crying. I shouldn't be; I'm used to him acting that way. But...I suppose it hurt more today because I needed him. I needed to talk to him. I wanted to tell him about the boys at school who were especially mean today.

But I didn't even get the chance to mention it. He sent me away before I could. And now, here I am; sitting on the sidewalk. I'm surrounded by people but I feel more lonely than ever.

"What are you doing in the middle of the street?"

When I hear the voice, I tense up. I hesitate before looking up to find a person standing in front of me. It's not an adult, though; it's a boy around my age. He has on a blue hoodie, green shorts, and sneakers. I remember those details very clearly.

The odd thing is that I can remember everything but his face. I've had this dream so many times, both when I was little and as I've been growing up. Even so, if I was asked to describe what the boy's face looked like, I would draw a blank. I wouldn't be able to picture the color of his hair, the shape of his eyes, or the expression he wore when he saw me crying on the sidewalk.

That doesn't change anything, though. Every time I have this dream, it plays out the same way. I'm sitting there quietly, just staring up at him without answering his question.

Speaking up again, the boy sounds a little defensive. "Why're you just staring?"

My face gets warmer -- not because this spring evening is warm, but because I'm embarrassed. I look back down at my lap, hesitating. I can feel that he's staring at me, but I don't dare raise my head. My eyes stay glued to my legs.

But then he speaks again. "...Are you okay?"

Those words surprise me. I think it's because I wasn't used to hearing them. I wanted to hear them from Uncle Ryoji, but I didn't. Instead, I heard them from this boy I don't know.

I look up at him. But I still can't see his face past the blur. I don't understand why he's talking to me. Most of the boys my age aren't very nice to me. They tease me for stuttering or they chase me around and then laugh if I trip and fall. It's why I'm crying in the first place.

But not him. He asked if I was okay...And he doesn't even know me.

I start tearing up. When I do, he reels back in surprise. "W-Wait, why are you crying?! What did I say?!"