-𝐂𝐔𝐏𝐈𝐎-

𝟎𝟎𝟏

—

"Did you hear about a fight?"

"Are you kidding? What's his deal?"

"Again? What do you expect from a delinquent like that?"

"What is with that guy?"

"He's dangerous."

"Seriously, what does the new kid see in him?"

"How many time do I have to tell you to dye your hair black!"

"Ugh, that guy is the worse. I mean, talk about that hairdo."

"Hah! His eyes are even worse!"

"I'm kind of worried for [last name], for all we know, he might be forcing that poor boy to be by his side!"

"What a walking plague."

"Disgusting."

Sakura sat up in bed, his breath still coming in quick, uneven bursts. The voices from his dream—more like a nightmare—echoed in his mind, even though they had faded into the silence of his room. He clenched his fists against his bedsheets, trying to shake the lingering feeling of unease.

Those words had followed him for years, from middle school and now into high school, always there, like a constant, unwelcome presence. He was used to it by now, but it didn't make it any easier.

Clicking his teeth in frustration, he ran a hand through his messy, two-toned hair. The same hair that always drew attention, that made him stand out in ways he hated. He could still hear the words from teachers, classmates, and strangers alike—their criticisms always revolving around his appearance, always questioning who he was and why he bothered to exist the way he did.

"Disgusting." That word stung the most.

With a frustrated groan, he pushed the thoughts away and forced himself out of his futon. Having nothing else to wear, he stuck to his Furin uniform that was sent to him a day prior.

After getting dressed, he paused for a moment, staring at himself in the mirror. The white streaks in his hair contrasted sharply against the black, and his golden eye caught the morning light, gleaming brighter than ever.

His lips pulled into a scowl. The uniform fit him well, but it did little to mask the striking contrast of his two-toned hair or the golden glint of his eye. Those features weren't something a change of clothes could ever hide.

But as he grabbed his phone and headed out the door, another thought crept in—one that was harder to dismiss.

What about you?

He wasn't just worried about himself. He was worried about you—his only real friend, the one person who seemed to care despite all the whispers and rumors. Ever since you two started hanging out, the comments hadn't stopped—they'd only gotten worse.

People were constantly speculating, making up stories about why you were with him, whether he was forcing you to stay by his side, or if you were just as strange as he was. He knew you could handle yourself, but it didn't stop him from feeling guilty, from wondering if maybe you deserved better than all this.

Just as Sakura was slipping his shoes on, his phone buzzed in his pocket. He paused, pulling it out with a sigh, half expecting more annoying notifications or some spam. But when he saw your name pop up on the screen, his expression softened slightly.