Ozawa: “It’s not that I hate people… but talking to them feels pointless.”

  Mio: “Pointless?! How can you say that? Sometimes, just one word can change someone’s life.”

  Ozawa (quietly, with a hint of sarcasm): “I doubt words change anything. This isn’t a movie, Mio.”

  Mio (pauses for a moment, then asks): “Why do you think that way? … It sounds like you're carrying a lot inside.”

  Ozawa remains silent, staring ahead without replying. Mio keeps walking beside him quietly.

  Mio: “Alright, if you don’t want to talk, I won’t push you. But I’ll stay here, if you ever need someone to listen.”

  Ozawa (in a softer tone): “… Thanks.”

  They arrive at a fork in the road, where their paths must part.

  Mio: “So, this is where we split. See you tomorrow, Ozawa-kun!”

  Ozawa (looks at her for a moment, then says): “Yeah, see you tomorrow.”

  He watches her walk away before continuing on his path, her words echoing in his mind.

  Ozawa (internal monologue): “Someone to listen, huh? … Maybe, just maybe, it's not as bad as I thought.”

  He keeps walking until he disappears into the distance.

  ---

  This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

  Ozawa arrives home and drops his bag onto the worn-out couch. He heads to the kitchen and opens the fridge to check what food he has left. He looks at the contents with disappointment.

  Ozawa (internal monologue): “Great… just a few eggs, a small piece of meat, and an old bottle of sauce. That’s it?”

  He closes the fridge with a sigh and goes to open his wallet. Inside is a carefully folded 10,000 yen bill.

  Ozawa: “Thanks, Yuko-nee-san. Without this, I’d be spending the day hungry. She always says: ‘It’s a big sister’s duty. Take this and take care of yourself.’ I wish I could rely on myself instead.”

  He puts on his shoes, grabs his cloth shopping bag, and prepares to head out.

  Ozawa (internal monologue): “Alright… I’ll buy enough for the week. I need to be careful with this money.”

  He walks down the street, now glowing with evening lights. The sound of passing cars and people in the background reflects the city’s bustle, but he walks in silence, lost in thought.

  Ozawa (internal monologue): “I hate relying on my sister. But what else can I do? I need a part-time job… anything to ease her burden.”

  He reaches the small neighborhood store and enters quietly. He browses the aisles, picking up rice, some vegetables, a pack of instant ramen, and a small carton of milk. He places everything into his basket carefully, trying not to go over budget.

  Ozawa (internal monologue): “That should do it. I’ll have to make this last the week. Every yen spent matters.”

  After paying, he carries the bags back home. The road is a bit dark, but familiar, and he walks faster, eager for the warmth of home.

  Once back, he places the groceries in the kitchen and arranges them in the fridge, then looks at them with a faint smile.

  Ozawa: “Alright, that’s better. At least I’ve got enough for now.”

  He sits on a kitchen chair, staring at the table for a while, then murmurs to himself softly.

  Ozawa (internal monologue): “Someday… I’ll make Yuko-nee-san proud. I won’t need her help anymore.”

  He gets up to tidy the house and prepare for his schoolwork, hoping to end the day with a small sense of accomplishment.

  ---

  End of the day:

  After finishing the chores, Ozawa sat on his bed, staring up at the dark ceiling. His thoughts swirled as usual, but he tried to push them away.

  Ozawa (internal monologue): “Time keeps moving, but I don’t feel like I’m changing. Same routine, same thoughts. Am I going to stay stuck like this forever?”

  He slowly closed his eyes, ready to face a new day, hoping it would bring something different.

  ---

  The next morning:

  The loud alarm shattered the room’s silence. Ozawa groggily turned it off and got out of bed slowly. He stood for a moment, gazing out the small window beside him, where faint sunlight pierced through gray clouds.

  Ozawa (internal monologue): “Another morning… same routine.”

  After putting on his school uniform and eating a piece of old bread with a small glass of water, he grabbed his bag and headed for the door. Before leaving, he glanced at the old photo hanging beside it — a picture of him and Yuko-nee-san — and sighed quietly.

  Ozawa (internal monologue): “One day… I’ll make that photo mean something.”

  He stepped into the quiet street. The morning was still young, and a calm silence surrounded the area, broken only by the sound of his slow footsteps on the pavement. He passed by shops just beginning to open and young children playing in nearby yards.

  As he walked, his mind remained tangled with thoughts.