Kei Yamada wasn't the kind of man people noticed twice.

At twenty-eight, with a frame weighed down by years of emotional eating and silent wounds, he had learned how to disappear. He knew how to shrink himself emotionally, if not physically—at work, on the train, even at family dinners where his presence felt like an inconvenience.

He had been overweight since middle school.

And people never let him forget it.

"Fatty Yamada!"

"Careful! The floor might crack!"

"Does your face even fit in the school photo?"

Laughter always followed. Kei pretended he didn't care, but the words clung to his skin like oil—thick, lingering, inescapable.

At home, there was no sanctuary.

His father never said a word. His mother only sighed, watching him scoop another serving onto his plate.

"Maybe if you cared more about your health, we wouldn't be ashamed to take you outside."

His sister, Ayumi, was the worst.

In public, she would pretend not to know him.

"I don't want people thinking we're related," she once whispered at school. "Please, just... walk behind me, okay?"

He did.

For the rest of high school, he did.

It wasn't until college that he met Saito, the first person who saw him—not as a body, but as a person.

"You okay, man?" Saito asked once, after Kei skipped lunch to avoid the cafeteria. "I see how people look at you. I used to get that too. But you gotta fight back."

"Fight back how?" Kei replied bitterly. "Punching people? That's not gonna make me thin or likable."

"No," Saito said. "By wanting more. Wanting better. For yourself."

The idea clung to Kei like a stubborn ember. A spark. But it took years before it finally turned into fire.

It wasn't until the night he felt dizzy climbing the stairs to his apartment that he finally booked the doctor's appointment.

He thought the worst he'd hear was something manageable.

But that day at the clinic shattered all his denial.

He sat across from her, sweat on his palms, shame in his throat.

Dr. Serena Hoshino.

Poised, radiant, and warm—even behind a mask of clinical professionalism. There was something in her eyes that didn't look at him with judgment... but concern.

She scanned the results. Then she looked at him.

"You have Type 2 Diabetes," she said softly. "And your liver enzymes are concerning. You're showing signs of NAFLD—nonalcoholic fatty liver disease."

Kei blinked, words failing him.

"I... I figured something was wrong," he mumbled. "But I didn't think it was... that bad."

Serena's voice didn't rise. It didn't scold.

But it cut deeper than any insult he'd heard in school.

"Kei-san, this is serious. But it's not the end. We can work on this. Together."

She reached into a drawer and handed him a slip.

His prescription.

"And we'll begin a medical weight-loss plan. You'll need to commit to it."

Kei looked down at the paper, then back at her.

"Why are you saying we?"

Serena smiled faintly. "Because you're not alone in this."

It was the first time anyone had said that to him.

His throat tightened.

"...Even if I don't believe in myself yet?"

"Then borrow my belief," she said. "Just until yours catches up."

He nodded slowly.

And for the first time in his life, he wanted to live.

To be continued...