Some people see colours in art.

Few see colours in people — threads of emotion no one else can touch.

There was a school named Mounagiri Gakuen, located between lush greenery and silent hills.

It was considered an elite school, and the entrance into the school was absolutely brutal.

Only the selected few made it in.

There was a boy named Rohan sitting in the far corner of the classroom near the windows, keeping to himself.

There were two boys fighting in front of his desk, and he was able to sense a thread in between them — a red colour, strong, throbbing, almost pulsing with heat.

Rohan looked at it and thought to himself…

No. Control yourself, Rohan. Not anymore.

You interfere with that, you might lead them… to…

There were always these invisible threads, unseen by others but visible to some like him.

Red denoted anger.
Green denoted calmness.
Black denoted distrust or manipulation.

They were of different colours according to the emotions of the person.

The two boys’ thread burned hotter, swelling with rage.

Rohan’s eyes followed it, knowing that if it snapped, it would lead to danger.

Memories of his childhood immediately halted his saving thought.

But then, despite his hesitation, his hands twitched — he sent out his own wobbly white threads, fragile but desperate, trying to meet those flaming red-hot strands between the boys.

They reached out in the emotional dimension, faint and flickering, like cobweb in a storm.

The red threads reacted.
They scorched the friable white ones instantly, devouring them in heat.

The red stretched, swelled… ruptured — and in that unseen realm, it exploded like shattering glass no one else could see.

The room shifted.
Shouts erupted.
Fists flew.
Desks rattled.

One boy was hit hard — his lip split, blood trickling down.

Two larger boys pulled him away toward the infirmary.

The other fighter froze when a teacher stormed in, voice cutting through the chaos.

That boy’s threads turned a deep, trembling blue — fear and anxiety spilling into the air.

Rohan felt it pierce him.

His own threads dulled into white streaked with blue.

His chest felt heavier. His heart sank.

One of his classmates, Erik, passed a remark at him casually, saying,

“He is a Kodokuna.”

Another classmate enquired as to the meaning of such a word.

Erik replied with authority in voice,

“Don’t you know? It’s pretty simple — Kodokuna means loner. He literally is like that anyway.”

Rohan, nicknamed thus, was laughed at by the class whenever the name surfaced.

Thus Rohan ultimately came to be known as Kodokuna.

In spite of the remarks, though, Kodokuna never stopped caring and watching others in general — and always detected the emotions of people as threads.

But whenever he tried to interfere, he detected the thread getting tense.

He was met with bullying and shoves by the students:

Mind your own business, Kodokuna.

So mostly he was quiet and had a sketchbook with him where he didn’t draw the scenery…

He drew the threads that he saw every time, every day of his life.

That was his ultimate survival tactic in the school.

It was time to depart for the day.

The sun outside was setting, giving the warm, gentle beam over the lush hills as if the hills were smiling.

Kodo was again in the corner of the class, packing his things for the day.

All were radiating their yellow gentle threads all around the room.

Laughter and smiles.

Kodo’s heart stirred at that sight.

White threads gave a golden warmth — radiant, but Kodo didn’t realise it yet.

He tried to approach some groups to maybe mix in with his classmates.

Alas, something unexpected happened — his white threads met those gold threads, but before long changed into blue and purple threads pouring out.

All those situations in school, the constant naming, triggered this emotional thread conversion.

Then immediately few gave looks and stares, little black threads popping out of them and Kodo felt — no — saw the world darken, even as the yellow still flickered elsewhere.

Some radiated their own weak white, empathy toward him, but they couldn’t hold it for long.

Soon everyone started to move away from Kodo.

Some even departed in groups to their usual recreation, leaving Kodo for the side in a hurry.

He dusted himself, lifted his upper lip in a faint half-smile, and explored the classroom one last time before he left.

He could sense some blue threads from classmates — but they just gave a sad, sympathetic look and chose to move on for the day.

He went home for the day and opened his front door then immediately his pet dog Leo pounced on him emerging from Kodo’s room, tail wagging.

Kodo fell with that gentle impact to the floor but didn’t feel pain — rather a warmth.

The golden green threads radiating from Leo engulfed Kodo and made him swell up.

He let out little sob and his dog realised this — whimpered and licked his face with gentleness kind of like,

BE STRONG KODO I AM ALWAYS HERE DON’T WORRY.

He hugged the dog, thanked the heavens for this little bundle of joy and did the dinner routines.

He then patted his dog gently before he went for night’s sleep.

But something came in his dream that night — golden radiant threads as warm as the sunset in the classroom slowly towards him, instantly soothing him.

He shook himself up, wondering the meaning of this dream.

He gave a gentle thump to his own cheeks and closed his eyes again.

He got up the next day, got ready for school again, waved bye to his Leo and set for the day.

Little did he know…

That wake-up to reality was just another phrase.

Something unexpected was approaching that would unravel his life.