Try For Us

His whole life, Hitoshi Shinsou had been a target or at least had one painted on his forehead in bold, red paint that never came off no matter what he did. Or maybe he had a piece of paper taped to his back unknowingly, much like the 'weird kid' in high school did in the few movies he'd seen. Except in Hitoshi's case, the bully was whoever showed themself after death ran her course, and had written something among the lines of 'beat me', 'insult me', 'starve me', or just 'do whatever vile things you can to me'. Yes, any number and variations of these things had been printed boldly onto his back versus the comedic 'kick me'. For this, he suffered. As much as he despised it, there was never anything he could do to help himself. What he needed was for somebody else to allow him to heal; for someone else to undo the damage caused by the unknown force above or below and in turn, the damage and hurt caused by those around him.