The bell rang, sharp and unforgiving, echoing through the grounds of Kosei High. For most, it was the start of another ordinary school day. But for Jin Tae-Hyun, it marked the beginning of another battle—a war he fought silently, every day, against the world around him.

Jin shuffled through the school gates, shoulders hunched and eyes glued to the ground. The crowd around him seemed to part, not out of respect, but disgust. He was the stain they pretended not to see, the target of cruel whispers and mocking stares.

"That's Jin Tae-Hyun, right?"

"Yeah, the punching bag."

"Haruki had him crying last week. Pathetic."

The words cut deep, even though he pretended not to hear them. Jin’s fists clenched at his sides, his nails digging into his palms. He didn’t stop walking. Stopping meant acknowledging them. Acknowledging them meant giving them power. And Jin refused to give them that satisfaction, even if every step felt like dragging chains across concrete.

Class offered no sanctuary. It never did.

Jin sat in the farthest corner of the room, hoping the shadows might swallow him whole. The teacher’s voice droned on, but it was drowned out by the snickers and whispers of his classmates. Then came a paper ball, landing squarely on his desk. He ignored it. Another followed, and then another.

“Hey, Jin,” came a voice from behind—Riku Aoki, Haruki’s ever-loyal lapdog. “Why don’t you solve that problem on the board? Or are you too scared your knees will give out?”

Laughter rippled through the room. Jin stared down at his notebook, gripping his pencil so tightly it nearly snapped.

“Enough!” the teacher barked, her sharp tone silencing the room. But the damage was done. The smirks, the sideways glances—they lingered, a reminder that he was always under their spotlight, always the joke.

When the bell rang for lunch, Jin slipped out of the classroom as quickly as he could. He moved like a ghost, silent and unnoticed, hoping to avoid any more attention. But fate had other plans.

As he turned a corner near the stairwell, a rough hand grabbed his arm and yanked him into the boys’ bathroom. The smell of stale smoke and urine hit him instantly.

“Well, well, if it isn’t our favorite loser,” Haruki sneered, leaning casually against the sink with a cigarette between his fingers. His gang—Riku, Sho, and Kenta—stood around him, their expressions a mix of amusement and malice.

Jin’s stomach sank. He tried to pull away, but Riku shoved him forward, causing him to stumble and hit the edge of the sink.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Riku taunted. “We’re not done with you yet.”

Haruki exhaled a cloud of smoke, the acrid scent making Jin’s eyes water. “You’ve been looking extra pathetic lately, Jin. It’s almost impressive how low you can sink.”

“Please,” Jin muttered, his voice barely audible. “I just want to be left alone.”

Haruki’s grin widened. “Oh, we’ll leave you alone… after we’ve had our fun.”

Before Jin could react, Sho grabbed him by the collar and shoved him to the floor. His knees hit the filthy tiles with a sickening thud.

“Lick the floor,” Haruki ordered, his tone dripping with sadistic glee.

Jin’s eyes widened in horror. “W-What?”

“You heard me,” Haruki said, blowing smoke in Jin’s face. “Get that tongue of yours on the floor. Now.”

The gang erupted into laughter as Jin froze, his mind racing. He wanted to resist, to stand up for himself, but the memory of past beatings held him back. He knew how this would end if he disobeyed.

“Do it,” Riku snapped, kicking Jin in the side. The impact sent pain shooting through his ribs, and he doubled over, gasping for air.

Trembling, Jin lowered his face to the grimy floor. The cold, sticky surface made his stomach churn, but he stuck out his tongue, praying it would be over quickly. The gang’s laughter grew louder as they watched, their voices echoing off the tiled walls.

“Look at him!” Kenta jeered. “What a freakin’ dog!”

“That’s enough,” Haruki said, though his tone was anything but merciful. He grabbed Jin by the hair and yanked him to his feet, forcing him to look into his mocking eyes. “You’re pathetic, Jin. You don’t even deserve to breathe the same air as us.”

He shoved Jin back against the wall, and before Jin could brace himself, Haruki flicked the cigarette in his hand, the burning ember hitting Jin’s cheek. Jin cried out in pain, clutching his face as the gang roared with laughter.

“You scream like a little girl,” Sho said, lighting another cigarette. “Let’s see if you can handle this.”

The next moments blurred together in a haze of humiliation and pain. The gang pinned Jin to the floor, their laughter echoing as they unzipped their pants.

“No…” Jin whispered, his voice trembling. “Please, don’t—”

Warm liquid hit his face, his uniform, soaking him in humiliation. They were urinating on him, their taunts and laughter ringing in his ears. Jin squeezed his eyes shut, his body trembling with rage and despair.

When they finally stepped back, Haruki crouched down beside him, a cruel smirk on his face. “You’re lucky we’re feeling generous today. Clean yourself up, loser.”

The gang left the bathroom, their laughter fading into the distance. Jin lay there for a moment, drenched and broken, his chest heaving with silent sobs.

He stumbled to his feet, his movements slow and shaky. His reflection in the cracked mirror showed a boy who barely looked human—his face pale, his hair matted, his uniform ruined. He avoided his own gaze as he splashed cold water on his face, the icy sting doing little to numb the pain inside.

By the time the closing bell rang, Jin was a shell of himself. He limped home, his bruises hidden beneath his uniform, his head bowed low.

When he reached the tiny apartment he shared with Yumi, she was waiting at the door. Her cheerful smile faltered the moment she saw him.

“Jin…” she whispered, her voice trembling. “Did they…?”

“It’s nothing,” Jin replied, forcing a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Just some idiots messing around.”

Yumi wasn’t convinced. She grabbed the first aid kit and guided him to the couch, her hands gentle but firm as she cleaned his wounds.

“You can’t keep letting them do this to you,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. “Why don’t you report them? The school? The police?”.

Jin shook his head, his gaze distant. “It only makes things worse.”

Her hands stilled, and for a moment, the room was silent.

“You shouldn’t have to go through this,” she whispered.

Jin wanted to tell her that it wasn’t just the bullying—the relentless torment of school all felt like chains dragging him down. But he didn’t. He couldn’t.

Instead, he muttered, “I’ll be fine,” knowing it was a lie.

That night, as Jin lay in bed staring at the ceiling, a thought crept into his mind.

How much longer could he endure this?

He clenched his fists, the echoes of laughter and fists still fresh in his mind.

Someday, he vowed. Someday, this would all change. They wouldn’t laugh forever. And when that day came, he wouldn’t let anyone experience what he was enduring.

For now, he was just Jin, the weakling, the punching bag.

But storms always start silently. And Jin’s was brewing.