Reborn Worthy

Had you ever felt like you were born wrong?

Under an evil star, maybe?

Or just an unplanned coincidence of destiny.

I have wished to save someone so much, with all of my being, but in the end, I failed.

Ever since then, I've felt like my soul has been broken.

I guess one could say I was a prodigious child, gifted, so many words they used to describe me, but I never felt like that.

I was just a boy, raised by a single father.

As I grew up, I always had someone besides me.

Her.

At first, we were just acquaintances in the playground; we lived close to each other, too, so it was easy for us to match schedules and play with each other.

Our days became mingled and intertwined, and before we could even notice, we were inseparable. From the playground, to elementary, to middle school, and to the start of our high school days.

The happy days she and I shared with each other felt like they would last forever, and nothing would break our bond, but alas, it was not to last, I fear.

One day, she fell in love.

I hoped one day I could tell her my feelings, but I was too slow, I snoozed, and lost my chance.

She was so deeply in love, she was so happy… even though I felt envy and jealousy of her and her boyfriend, I couldn't help but be happy that my friend was happy.

This is what I told myself, and what I believed.

She became so full of life, even brighter than the times we were together; it was blinding. It made my heart swell with ache and bitter-sweet happiness, but I had resigned.

There was no way a girl so full of love for her boyfriend was not the happiest she could ever be, right?

Then all I had to do was proceed with my life and hope our friendship would last.

She started to spend less time with me, as if she wanted to push me out of her life, push me out of the way of her boyfriend.

It hurt, but again, I accepted it. If she wanted to put distance, I would respect that decision. I just went with my life, I did not have the mind or the heart to dwell on that issue, in the pain and envy, for long.

Then tragedy struck.

For some reason, he dumped her. He used her like a cheap sex doll, a comfort woman, and left her to rot after he got his fill.

The girl who once had so much life was left alone, without a single glimmer behind her eyes.

I tried to approach again, to get my friend out of that darkness. Make her enjoy life again, make her see there were things beyond her breakup.

I failed.

She killed herself anyway.

Cruel rumours said it was because she couldn’t bear to not be with a perfect man, that I was not enough.

I didn't know the truth. I tried to stop her suicide, but I was too slow. I just saw her corpse hanging from the ceiling.

I went far and wide for the truth.

I hurt too many people, and I burned many bridges. I doomed my own position in the Student Council, I fought and hurt the other members, for they knew more than me.

She had left them with bread crumbs of light and information about her relationship.

Her suicide.

She could not bear the shame of being used, she could not bear her life after chasing me away for her boyfriend, she felt she wasted her shot and life.

She hanged herself out of shame.

After that day, I felt like something broke.

I felt her death was personally my fault. My cross to bear, if I had done more.

If I were more.

If I were enough, maybe she would be alive and not dead.

Ever since, I became lost.

I indulged in violence.

I engorged in it like a fattening pig awaiting its own slaughter.

I became so inebriated by violence that my own father chased me away from his home, like I drug addict.

Maybe I really am a drug addict.

A worthless piece of shit that fell in love with his rot and numbness.

I don't know why I am alive anymore, ever since I burned my neck… I don’t know why I keep on breathing.

Is there a reason?

I see others being so happy, but I can’t even bring myself to feel envious of them.

It is just all so hollow. I want to cry. Hell, let me cry.

Why do things have to be that way?

Why can’t I get a taste of that joy anymore? No matter how many people I tried to befriend afterwards, it all feels so hollow.

Even wounds rang false in my head. I feel like bleeding every day, but there are no wounds, nothing in the mirror, just my face.

Why can’t I be happy anymore? Why don’t I feel anything anymore?

Please, even the pain, anything, please, let me feel anything, please…

I don’t want to endure this anymore.

God, save me.

God, please give me a reason.

God.

Kill me.

Make me be reborn as something worth.

Not as this… failure.

A failure of a boy.

A failure of a young man.

A disgrace that made his father look away in shame and guilt.

I just want it all to end.

(...)

Itsuki opened his eyes, like he had awoken from a bad dream.

A hand extended to him, with an umbrella.

This was a scene he had already seen, but it was like the first time.

Deja Vu, in a life without change, frozen in time.

“Oh, it is you. Hello, Boss.” Itsuki greeted Momo, who stared at him with a judgmental expression, gauging his wounds, his wounds, his blood.

“It is the fourth time this month it happens, Itsuki. You go off and come back bloodied and covered in wounds. You were not that sloppy in the past.” She spoke with a harsh and stern voice.

Itsuki closed his eyes again. He tasted blood in his mouth.

His own blood.

It ran by his face and hair.

When did he get hurt?

Wrong question.

He wouldn’t bother to answer it.

“It is getting tiring, Boss. It is all the same in my mind. The same day, repeating again and again. Again…” He sighed, his eyes half-lidded, as if in a daze.

“I don’t know anymore. I don’t know what I should… I do any longer.” He looked at the rain and stormy clouds above their heads.

The world has become engulfed by them in his eyes.

Devoured by it, it no longer had any other people, buildings, scenery, just himself, the storm, and Momo.

“I don’t feel any closer to my objective. It is always so elusive, running by my hands. I can’t seem to get any closer to it. Why do I fight? Hell, why do I keep on fighting?” Itsuki held on his knees and forced his own body to stand up.

Momo chewed on her lip, as frustration boiled over to her surface. Itsuki was broken, even if his body didn’t show any signs of hurt or discomfort, it was clear as day the fact that he was messed up more than the norm, yet he insisted on walking on his own.

Like he didn’t need anyone, as he guided himself towards the edge of the metaphorical cliff. Her umbrella fell out of her hands as her hands clenched. She needed to knock sense into her subordinate, before he got himself killed.

A punch was sent straight to his face, sending him tumbling down on the ground again.

Followed by another, and another.

And another.

Until her fist was painted red with his blood.

Momo was not one to resort to such violence against her people, against the Fujiwara-Senki, but Itsuki was a special case.

She not only saw it, but felt the death wish in his voice, in his actions, his body language. He was wishing for death so much, he didn’t care where it came.

At the end of his vengeance or right now.

It made her heart race with doubt, fear, and despair at her friend, and gang member, dying a worthless death in some back alley.

If she had to carve his nose in to make him see some sense, she would. He was worth the shot, his history was worth being told to others, and so was his quest.

She would not allow him to kill himself by a cop or assisted suicide that way. Not in a million years.

She would use him, grind him to fine dust until there was nothing left before finally allowing him to die.

Her eyes were more focused than ever as they stared into his soul. “We will find him, don’t you worry about that, you bastard. Keep on living. Stay alive, you won’t be of help dead, and you won’t be able to avenge her if you die! Take care of yourself!”

She barked those orders, her red eyes like rubies full of vitae. Her teeth ground against each other. “Don’t you dare to stop taking care of yourself, or allowing some thug to get a cheap shot at you. Itsuki, you are a member of the Fujiwara-Senki, act that way! Keep your will!”

Itsuki’s heart sank inside his chest, a sense of shame in him. He remembered how he was when he first met Momo, even more of a Dead Man Walking than he was now.

So full of violence and rage, but driven to see his quest through. He was not as hollowed out as he was now; he had so much passion and violence in everything he did. Maybe that was the person Momo saw and wanted to keep, not his current self.

A look in her eyes proved him wrong. He saw the same caring deep down in her eyes, the caring expression she had when she first recruited him by defeating him in battle.

That big heart, which embraced others from all paths of life. All roads…

It was shameful to say he was willing to give up on himself, on his quest, when she hadn’t given up on him.

With a hand, she pushed him up to his feet and used her body as a crutch for him, as she forced his hands to hold the umbrella. “You are taller, you protect us from the rain. Let me get you some ramen.”

A bitter-sweet taste mixed up with blood inside Itsuki’s mouth.

Truth be told.

He was tired.

He wanted it all to end finally.

But… something in Momo, her words made a part of his heart ache. A pain that he could feel.

He pursed his lips and held the umbrella high for her.

He was tired, but not tired enough to stop fighting, and finally throw the towel.

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Pub: 08 Sep 2025 00:26 UTC

Views: 28