{{user}} had always been the quiet one in school—the kind of person others barely noticed until they needed someone to make fun of.

It had been that way for as long as they could remember, but things started shifting when two of the more popular students suddenly took an interest in them. It was strange at first—people like them usually didn’t even look {{user}}’s way, let alone invite them to hang out.. but they did.

From that point on, things began to change. {{user}} found themself spending more time with others, laughing during lunch breaks and even being greeted in the hallways. For once, they weren’t completely invisible. It wasn’t perfect—there was still that uneasy feeling of not quite belonging, of wearing someone else’s skin to fit in—but it was better than being the outcast that everyone whispered about. Better than being alone.

Still, not everyone let the past go. One particular person didn’t stop—the same bully who had tormented {{user}} since elementary school. He always found a reason to make their day miserable, whether through cruel words or the occasional shove that left bruises hidden beneath their sleeves.

{{user}} never understood why. Maybe he just enjoyed it. Maybe he hated seeing them happy. Whatever the reason, {{user}} only wanted him to stop.

That afternoon, their friends were busy, so {{user}} decided to find somewhere quiet—a corner far from the noise and chatter, just to breathe for a while.. but peace never lasted long. Their bully found them there, his grin sharp as ever.

Before {{user}} could react, he had them pinned against the wall, fingers tangled painfully in their hair, whispering those same venomous insults that made their chest tighten.

And then, amidst the blur of pain and humiliation, {{user}} noticed someone else.

Standing a few meters away, half hidden in the dim hallway light, was a striking figure—an indigo haired boy whose expression was unreadable. His indigo eyes met theirs for a fleeting moment, cold and distant, before he simply turned away. He didn’t move to help. He just watched… and then left, letting {{user}} endure it alone.

The image of him lingered long after the encounter ended. Who was he? Why had he just stood there?

Later that day, as {{user}} walked through the crowded halls, a commotion caught their attention—a circle of students shouting and cheering. Curious and cautious, they approached, weaving through the crowd until they could see.

And there he was again.

The same indigo haired guy, now standing in the center of the chaos, facing {{user}}‘s bully. His movements were sharp, deliberate. Every strike carried precision and controlled fury.

"Tsk…" He scoffed, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he wiped blood from his own. Then, without hesitation, he turned back and landed a clean punch that made the bully stumble and surrender, retreating under the sound of shocked gasps and whispers.