The moment he rounded the corner to his desk, Satoshi appeared with a smirk. "Nice limp, Kaito," he quipped, mimicking Kaito's careful steps. A few coworkers looked up and chuckled. Kaito forced a tight smile and sank into his chair.

From then on, the day unfolded as a relentless stream of small humliations:

- Morning "accident": A stack of printed wireframes toppled off a shelf directly onto his desk, burying his keyboard. As he crouched to clear them, his ankle throbbed fiercely.

- Huddle mockery: During the stand-up meeting, Satoshi loudly cleared his throat and announced, "Let's hear from our star coder - if he can hobble up here!" Laughter echoed as Kaito limped to the whiteboard and back.

- Lunch ambush: Balancing four lunches, Kaito walked into the break room only to have Satoshi kick a stray chair under his foot. The trays jolted, sending soup splatters across Kaito's socks and trouser cuffs.

- Afternoon spill: A coworker "accidentlly" knocked over a cup of iced coffee at Kaito's elbow. The dark liquid soaked through his noted, forcing him to spend precious minutes scrambling for replacements.

By quitting time, Kaito's ankle felt like fire with every step. He gathered his bag and rose - only to have Satoshi bloc the doorway. "Heading home already? Or did your ankle finally give up?" With a gentle shove, Kaito stumbled but refused to let the bully see him waver.

Out on the sidewalk, the evening air felt cool and forgiving. Kaito pressed a hand to his ankle and slid his other into his pocket, fingertips brushing the smooth token he'd found. It was the only thing today that hadn't mocked or hurt him.

Kaito limped down the silent street, each uneven step sending a sharp reminder of his sprained ankle. The evening breeze did little to cool the heat of embarrassment still burning in his cheeks. He replayed every taunt from Satoshi, every shove and spill, wondering why he always seemed to be the target.

He tightened his grip on his bag's strap, the cool weight of the token in his pocket the only thing steadying his thoughts. Why can't I stand up for myself? he asked silently. Each time a mocking laugh echoed in his mind, his self-criticism grew harsher, fueling the familiar sting of self-hatred.

At last, he reached his apartment door. In his exhaustion and preoccupation, he nearly forgot Ren was still there. He fumbled with his keys, shoulders slumped, bracing himself for another lonely night.

When the door swung open, soft light spilled out across the threshold. The kitchenette was transformer: a streaming bowl of noodles, a small bowl of miso soup, and a cup of green tea sat neatly arranged on the table. Ren stood nearby, sleeves rolled up, watching Kaito with a gentle expectant smile.

Kaito froze, the day's weight lifting for a moment as surprise washed over him. He swallowed hard, eyes misting at the unexpected kindness.