The mattress sags under his slight, nine-year-old frame.
Saturday mornings offer the only real sanctuary in this house. Sunlight cuts through a narrow gap in the curtains, catching dust motes that drift lazily through the stagnant air.
Renjiro breathes out slowly and lets his limbs go completely limp, sinking his weight into the cheap foam.
Gravity does all the work. He does not move a single muscle, perfectly content to melt through the bedsheets and disappear into the floor.
Weekends are the best. No class. No teachers asking loud questions. Most importantly, I can sleep all day.
Listen to that, he thinks, staring blankly at the popcorn ceiling.
Nothing. Absolutely nothing. It is the sound of silence. The best sound in the entire world.
A pure, heavy peace that wraps around his head like a thick protective blanket.
But then...
The bedroom door slams open.
Wood smacks against drywall with a sharp, violent crack. The protective blanket of silence shatters instantly.
A girl stands in the doorway. Her black hair is tied up in a high, bouncy ponytail. Bright blue eyes scan the room, immediately locking onto Renjiro's motionless form on the bed.
She marches inside, her sneakers squeaking loudly against the floor.
"Renji. Get up, let's go to the playground."
This girl is a living nightmare.
Renjiro squeezes his eyes shut and hope she will just evaporate if he ignores her long enough. But she doesn't.
Small hands grab Renjiro's wrists. Mako leans back, planting her feet, and pulls his arms straight up into the air.
He offers zero resistance because it takes too much energy. His torso lifts slightly off the mattress, but the rest of him remains perfectly deadweight. He sags against her grip like a wet sack of flour.
Whenever he finds a sliver of free time for a nap, she always barges in.
"I'm asleep," he mumbles. His head lolls to the side.
"You're talking," Mako points out, yanking harder. "Come on. Everyone is already at the swings."
"Everyone sounds exhausting."
"You need sunlight. You look like a ghost." She drops his right wrist to poke him hard in the ribs.
With a heavy, resigned groan, Renjiro finally shifts his legs over the edge of the bed. Fighting her physical pulling takes too much energy
If he just follows her to the playground and sits on a bench, she will eventually get distracted by the other kids. That is the path of least resistance.
The pattern repeats itself for years.
A sunny Tuesday during fifth grade. Lunchtime brings a chaotic roar to the cafeteria. Renjiro hates the noise so he takes his standard-issue bread roll and milk carton, slipping out the side doors while the teachers are distracted by a spilled tray.
Behind the old gymnasium, a narrow gap exists between the brick wall and the chain-link fence. The shade is deep here. Cool air settles in the dirt. Renjiro slides down the rough brick, his uniform shirt catching on the edges, until he hits the ground.
He closes his eyes and takes a bite of the dry bread.
Ten minutes pass in blissful, isolated quiet.
Crunch.
A shoe steps on a dry leaf just past the fence.
"There you are," Mako says. She pops her head around the corner. "Why do you always eat in the dirt? It's weird."
Renjiro stops chewing. He stares straight ahead at the metal links of the fence and takes a route through the blind spots of the hallway cameras. He avoided the main courtyard entirely. How does she do it?
She probably just asks the loudest kids in class where the quietest kid went. Or maybe she notices the missing bread from the lunch cart. Either way, her tracking skills are a huge hassle.