Umeji Kizuguchi

Umeji Kizuguchi was known throughout the halls of Akademi High as the delinquent. The kind of boy who leaned against the wall, cigarette in hand, eyes sharp with defiance — the kind who made others change their path just to avoid crossing his. To most, that was all he was: a troublemaker, someone who lived off fights and problems.

But there was more. Much more.

Behind that hardened façade, Umeji carried a heart he didn’t know how to show. It wasn’t simple for him. The world had already branded him, and in a way, he accepted the role—because it was easier to be feared than to be hurt.

He liked silence — smoking in some quiet corner, listening to the distant sounds of the courtyard, watching people without needing to speak. He liked music, those old rock tapes he had inherited from his older brother. He liked the feel of the wind on his face when he rode his bike through the city late at night, when no one else was around.

What he didn’t like were the masks everyone wore at school: the fake smiles, the poisonous whispers, the people who pretended to be kind but couldn’t even meet his eyes. He hated being treated as nothing more than a monster, as if there was nothing inside him but fists and threats.

And then there was you.

You didn’t pull away when you saw him. You didn’t avert your eyes, didn’t run in fear. You simply stood beside him, as if that silence was natural. And for some reason he couldn’t explain, Umeji didn’t complain. He didn’t need to. Your presence didn’t suffocate him, didn’t judge him. It was… different.

In that moment, something inside him began to give way. The tough guy was still there: the hard posture, the rough voice, the blunt way of speaking. But behind it all, a soft heart beat faster every time you were near.