Yuta Okkotsu didn't know how he had found himself walking to a group therapy session. The truth was, everything had been a little hazy for the last nine years. Nothing was particularly beautiful or tasted especially good. It was as if someone had turned down the saturation on being alive, affecting more than just his vision. Was that what being nineteen was like, or being an adult, perhaps?
Satoru Gojo was his neighbor at the time. He was a tall, rather muscular, white-haired young man who ran an office out of the apartment across from Yuta's. What had started as a seemingly benign neighborly relationship had morphed into something even stranger than Gojo himself. However, strangeness had become the new normal for Yuta, and anything was welcome as long as it came with a smile.
No one had told him that living alone came with so much downtime. There were the hours that he worked, but as soon as he was home, it became an instant retreat into solitude. Unwashed bricks plastered the exterior of the apartment building, making a vibrant and bright man like Gojo stand out amidst the dreary surroundings.
Loneliness had proven to be quite a shell for Yuta to live in. No one told him what to do, but no one was around to stop him either. There was no one to hug when his memories came flooding back in the middle of the night while scrolling through his desolate feed. Yet, Gojo had convinced him to go to this session at a community center that Yuta didn't even know existed.
It was the day prior. Yuta had briefly left his apartment for half an hour to grab a package of milk candies from the store. When he returned, the door was open, and Gojo stood in the entrance, staring down with his glassy, light blue eyes. Sure, the man was uncouth, but he never seemed like the breaking and entering type.
Gojo's lips were plump and glossy as they moved. "You were sick a lot as a kid, weren't you?"
Meanwhile, his eyes made Yuta's clothes feel transparent. There was an intensity behind them, but his brows never moved. The way Gojo spoke was usually energetic, with an offer of letting Yuta borrow a movie or giving him dessert in the middle of the afternoon. This time was different-his voice was inquisitive but somber.
Yuta felt his eyes widen in that moment. Gojo was in his apartment. Why was he there? Why was he suddenly acting like this?
Yuta struggled to think of a way to diffuse the situation. "Mr. Gojo! What are you doing in my apartment?"
The complex was small, only housing four buildings with six rooms each split between two floors. Gojo and Yuta's doors faced each other, which could have been an excuse for confusion if Yuta had forgotten to lock the door. However, that was one of Yuta's few strengths: keeping people out and away. It had been Yuta's talent since grade school but had truly become second nature after high school.
There wasn't anything inside worth stealing, but it wasn't as if Gojo needed to steal anything anyway. On all the occasions they had exchanged greetings, the pale white-haired man wore a different outfit. They weren't simple t-shirt and pants combinations either. He adorned himself with fully adorned and well-fitting clothes that made him stand out even more than he already did.
"You didn't answer my question, Okkotsu, or can I call you Yuta since we've known each other for a while?" Gojo's face was expressionless.
"Uh, yeah, Yuta is fine! I was... how did you know?" Yuta replied.
There wasn't much of a story for that part of his life. He had been in and out of the hospital for years, which made it difficult to make friends until he met Rika. He loved her more than anything in the world. He still did, but she was dead.
"I thought your name sounded familiar. Tell me, Yuta, why are there so many razor blades pushed into your walls?" Gojo asked.
How could Gojo possibly know his name? There wasn't a major story in any news outlets about a random sickly child. He hadn't contracted a rare disease or been a Make-A-Wish kid. There was no reason for any of this.
The white-haired man had gone inside. It was obvious at that point. Making a mistake would have been walking in, turning on the lights, and then leaving upon realizing it wasn't his apartment. Gojo was normally a cheerful man; that much was clear from the amount of time he spent smiling and waving at the neighbors. But why did he single out Yuta now?
"Don't worry about it," Yuta said, looking down at his feet as his thick black hair fell over his eyes.
Gojo didn't hesitate to continue probing for answers. "You're a young kid, so why are there razor blades jabbed into your living room wall?"
Yuta inhaled. The interaction wouldn't end unless Gojo got an answer; that much was clear. "Because I'm bad at cutting things."
That was the best excuse he could come up with? Yuta had always been the punching bag at school. His arms were thin, with only essential muscle and bone. The only reason he was able to shove the razor blades into the off-white drywall in the first place was because he was angry. No cutting accident would have allowed him to do that.
"You're lying. There are small cuts on your palms from where you pressed them in. And that story makes no sense," Gojo scoffed.
Seriously? He could tell from a few feet away that there were cuts on his palms? Most of them weren't deep, just flesh wounds. Blood was only drawn the first time Yuta had attempted. He didn't even know what to do with the blades or how it would feel. It just felt like it needed to happen.
"If you're going to lie, it has to be better than that. There are six blades in that wall. Are you going to look at me with a straight face and say that you accidentally jabbed razors half an inch into the wall six separate times? They aren't even the same brand, Yuta," Gojo said.
The white-haired man had really investigated. There was no point in attempting a second lie. Gojo most likely still wouldn't have believed Yuta. The whole interaction had been going on for too long anyway.
Yuta sighed. "I tried to kill myself. More than once. But I couldn't go through with it."
"Is that so? Kind of dark, isn't it?" Gojo replied with what sounded like enthusiasm.
Why this? Why now? Why did this strange man think he was entitled to answers about a life he didn't know? They were just neighbors, nothing more. Gojo didn't deserve the information he was getting, but Yuta couldn't stop himself from speaking.
Next thing he knew, Gojo was inviting him to a group counseling session he ran at the local community center. There was something about the man that was charismatic enough to pull Yuta in, and he couldn't quite place what it was. Gojo didn't seem like the type who would rent an apartment in their area. It was probably his symmetrical face or the lack of bags under his eyes that set him apart from others.
It was a Tuesday evening, one of the few that Yuta had off from his job waiting tables. Being on his feet all day almost every day made the walk to the community center that much more excruciating. Why was he even going? He didn't want to, but it seemed rude to tell Gojo that he would be flaking out at the last minute.
The white-haired man had found a way to break into Yuta's apartment after all. He could emerge from the shadows at any time of the day when Yuta was usually alone. Just the thought of that man, who stood a head taller than him, popping into existence while he watched something on his phone was scary enough. Really crazy people don't make it obvious that they are delusional-maybe that's why no one else realized Yuta was hurting. No one else was insane enough to recognize it.
Remarkably, the community center seemed as if it had been pulled entirely from a magazine. It didn't fit in with the otherwise grungy streets. There was no grime, no wear and tear, not even a sign that it had ever been used besides the bikes that were chained to racks near its front doors.
"Ah! So you made it!" Gojo's voice rang out from behind Yuta.
He stepped out of a car in a disheveled dress shirt and a loosely hanging charcoal tie. The sleeves had been rolled up to his elbows, with creases that implied they had been in that position for a while. What did Gojo do for work? If he was going to leave his home office in a car, he could have at least offered to take Yuta.
"Well, you did invite me," Yuta said.
"I didn't mean you had to come. I invite a lot of people. Might not know this, but I am a pretty cool guy," Gojo smiled.
Was he genuinely like this all the time? It made more sense why he was able to break into the apartment. Gojo was a freak.
"Yeah, I guess so," Yuta said.
"Well, come on. I'll introduce you to the group. We're pretty small, but I'm sure you'll make at least one friend, right?" Gojo said it as if it were that easy.
Life would never be the same as it was with Rika. She was strong and loved Yuta, even though they had only been friends for a year. Adult friendships were different. He couldn't just find a friend at this meeting. It would be remarkable if he could even bring himself to speak to anyone there at all.
The building's interior was more in line with what Yuta had come to expect from his community. Lights were flickering, if not fully darkened or silvered, depending on the age and make of the bulbs. Some of the layered paper ceiling tiles were browned, presumably due to some kind of leak. Most importantly, the flooring didn't seem like it had ever been polished.
"Storm last year did a number on this building, I know," Gojo said.
It was as if he could tell what Yuta was thinking. Then again, Yuta had always found it difficult to hide his reaction to something he was seeing for the first time. Yuta couldn't mask what he didn't know was coming.
Gojo led the way to a small conference room with matted tri-colored carpet that mainly consisted of gray. An air vent moaned to life, breaking the silence of the room. There were quite a few people, thirteen including himself and Gojo. Chairs had been arranged in a circle, totaling fifteen, which meant there could have been more than just those who were already there.
A girl with glasses spoke first, "Kept us waiting long enough."
"Zen'in, I'm sure he has an explanation," a man with spiked black hair said.
She whipped her head toward him, "I told you not to use my last name!" Her attention returned to Gojo, who pointed Yuta toward an empty chair next to her. "So, do you have an explanation?"
"Nope!" Gojo exclaimed with a smile.
"You want me to sit next to her?!" Yuta heard himself say aloud.
He instantly regretted showing his face to the crowd. What a great first impression-insult the already irritated woman who treated Gojo like he was some kind of idiot. Well, there was a chance she was right and Gojo was actually an idiot. Yuta blushed and took the seat next to her, trying to ignore her intensely judgmental stare.
It was a black metal-framed chair with a worn cushion, but it was still comfortable enough. Most of the time, Yuta sat on the ground since furniture was so expensive and difficult to move alone. Gojo took a seat near the door, between an older woman and a middle-aged man who seemed to be wearing sunglasses indoors. Was he hungover? And he still showed up to this thing?
"Well, let's get this thing started, huh?" Gojo said. "Yuta, you're one of a few new faces. Why don't you start us off by introducing yourself and telling us why you're here?"
Why was he there? On a Tuesday night, he typically sat at home watching videos and decompressing from the week. Tuesdays were usually the easiest days to get through. Some people considered them the worst day of the week, but for Yuta, that had proven to be Friday. Other than their obvious symbolism for the start of a fun weekend with friends he didn't have, Friday was the last day he saw Rika alive all those years ago.
Yuta stood nervously. "Uh... Hi, I'm Yuta Okkotsu, and I'm here because Gojo asked me to come."
Just as Yuta sat down and his eyes unfocused from embarrassment, Gojo spoke, "No, no. It's alright if you don't want to share, but this is a support group for people with anxiety and traumatic stress. You can't just say I invited you."
"I didn't know that's what this was!" Yuta's pupils shrank.
The girl spoke quietly under her breath, "He's just telling this guy now?"
"Oh, did I forget to mention that? I figured it was obvious. Oops!" Gojo smiled it off like he had just bumped into someone.
That made more sense. Yuta hadn't known Gojo for long, but this seemed right up his alley. The man was pretty and apparently accomplished, but he was proving to be more of an idiot than Yuta had first expected.
Yuta stood again, "In that case, fine. My name is Yuta Okkotsu. I was invited here because Gojo broke into my apartment and-"
Gojo cut him off before he could finish speaking, "Okay, going to stop you there. Don't mention me at all in your explanation. Like I said, it's fine if you just want to pass for now. Maybe we can go around the room first, and you can go last?"
Yuta nodded, still confused about what Gojo was expecting him to say. There was never a point in Yuta's life that he thought he would sit in a room with relative strangers and talk about his anxiety. If he had known that it was specific to anxiety and trauma, he probably wouldn't have shown up. Or maybe he would have, considering he didn't question Gojo's invitation after the man had broken and entered.
"I'll go," the girl to his left said.
The chair to Yuta's right was still empty. Someone must have been sick. They all seemed like they knew each other already, though Gojo had mentioned there were a few new people. Yuta hoped the chair would remain vacant to alleviate some of the pressure on him.
"I am Maki Zen'in, from the Zen'in sporting goods company. I am here because I struggle being around my family. It is a lot of pressure, and sometimes I wish I could just destroy the whole thing so that I don't have to feel them looking at me," she shifted around as she spoke.
Just as she sat, another man walked in the door. He didn't speak, though; instead, he bowed his head at Gojo. It was odd, to say the least, but after hearing that a member of a wealthy family like the Zen'ins was attending, it wasn't that surprising.
"Go sit next to Yuta. He's the one by Maki. Glad you could make it, Toge," Gojo pointed at Yuta.
The man turned to face Yuta with a smile. His platinum hair fell over his brows, perfectly framing his violet eyes. The sides of his jaw were obscured by a tall black collar over a white T-shirt. Rather fashionable for the crowd, but it suited him well.
Half of the circle had spoken by the time it had made it back to Gojo. The majority of people had similar stories but didn't elaborate as deeply as Maki did. Usually, they just said something along the lines of "I have anxiety" or "I saw something I wish I hadn't." Truth be told, that's how Yuta felt too.
Gojo stood and took a look around with those crystal blue eyes, "Well, you all know me. I think. I am Satoru Gojo, a city council member and behavioral science psychologist."
He was a politician? That made sense. He had the look and charisma to lead an army into a war they knew they wouldn't win. The session was starting to make sense after Gojo mentioned he was a professional. There was no way to validate that fact, but everyone seemed to accept it.
The second half of the circle spoke, all with the same level of vagueness as those before them. Yuta hadn't realized it until he stood, but the middle-aged man to the side of Gojo had been carrying a small stuffed panda which he continued to coddle during his speech about depression and drug use in his past.
Once the circle had made it to the platinum blond who walked in late, he pulled a notebook from the inner pocket of his jacket. Small and leather-bound, the notebook seemed practically new. Next, he removed a pen from the other side and wrote something briefly in the book before handing it to the person to his right. The silent man pointed at Gojo, and it seemed as if half of the circle understood exactly what to do, passing the journal to the white-haired man.
The blond stood, and Gojo began to read, "This is Toge Inumaki. He has selective mutism and is here on the invitation of me, the great Gojo, to see if group therapy helps."
With a scowl toward Gojo, Toge sat in the chair, turning his attention toward Yuta with a smile. Selective mutism? Wasn't that more of a cognitive disorder or something? It seemed like a waste of time to be in therapy for, but then again, Yuta found himself in the same crowd.
"So, Yuta, are you ready to try again? Tell us why you're here, if you'd like," Gojo said, leaning over.
The pressure had grown, not only from the new man who seemed to have a bigger reason to seek help, but also because no matter how many times Gojo said it was Yuta's choice, it didn't feel like it. Yuta stood, shivering in his own skin, and tried to hide his fear behind the face he wore while waiting on tables.
"My name is Yuta Okkotsu. I am, uh, well, I am here because I can't kill myself," when he said that, it sounded as if the air conditioning itself had stopped breathing.
"Well, that sure is an answer to the question. Do you want to elaborate, or are you going to leave us in suspense?" Gojo asked, leaning back.
The platinum-blond man crooked his neck toward Gojo with a large frown before the girl named Maki spoke again, "Yeah, Toge is right. That's messed up, Gojo. Aren't you supposed to be a therapist?"
Yuta wondered if he had missed something. Toge never spoke, but it was like Maki had understood his silence. They were close after all. How long had they been meeting? How had he not known that Gojo was prestigious enough to hold community therapy?
"No, it's fine. I can say more," Yuta said.
Toge shifted his violet eyes toward Yuta, sending chills down the black-haired man's back. His gaze was narrowed as if frustrated but didn't offer a clear statement. It could have been the lighting, but it almost looked as if Toge had tears in his eyes, though they never formed.
"I mentioned earlier that Gojo-I mean, someone-broke into my apartment. Well, when they looked inside, they found all the blades I had bought to end my life. The truth is, I should have died nine years ago. Instead, my best friend-my only friend-pushed me out of the way. I can't help but feel responsible for that, for her. Something keeps stopping me from going through with it," Yuta felt his lips freeze as silence returned to the room.
The spiky-haired guy spoke up from across the room, "It's not exactly the same, but I think I understand. My dad left me behind after he ruined his reputation in our family by having me as a son. I feel responsible for him leaving me and my sister behind."
Maki spoke again, "My twin sister hates me because I left our family. She tells me every second she gets the chance that it's my fault she was ousted from them, forced to have a life she didn't want."
Yuta looked toward Toge, whose gaze softened as their eyes locked. The blond held out a fist to Yuta, but he had no idea how to respond. Maki bumped her hand against Yuta's, and he suddenly understood. It was awkward and drawn out, but Yuta still completed the fist bump to the visible delight of Toge.
Gojo shouted, "See! I am good at therapy!"
The middle-aged man with the panda spoke next, "Arrogant. This is why I didn't vote for you."
After Yuta's introduction, the meeting didn't go on for too much longer. It turned out Gojo had purposefully told Yuta the wrong meeting time so that he wouldn't look bad for showing up to his own event late. His advice wasn't too bad, though it was definitely rushed due to the amount of time spent on the introductions.
Most of the crowd promptly left when the meeting hour was over, but a few lingered. The spiky-haired guy was speaking to Maki, and Gojo was whispering with the man carrying the panda. Yuta was really only sticking around to ask Gojo for a ride, and he also had a burning sense of obligation to talk to him about the session.
It was easy for Yuta to think of reasons not to attend again. There were dozens aside from Gojo's breach of trust. He couldn't help but imagine the scenario where he didn't show up and Gojo broke in again to drag him back. However, there was one good reason to return that Yuta didn't expect upon walking into the dreary community center interior. Those people were the first to know about his attempted suicide, yet none of them flinched.
All thirteen of the others must have known where he was coming from. They didn't talk much about their personal lives other than that brief moment after he had admitted to them the thing he had hidden in his walls. He felt a sense of relief but also a newfound feeling of dread when it came to returning to that ivory-painted apartment.
A hand nudged Yuta's shoulder. It was the platinum-haired man, smiling with a small piece of paper folded between his fingers. For someone with an anxiety disorder, Toge sure was social.
"For me?" Yuta said, holding out his hand.
Toge dropped the piece of paper into his pale, clammy hands. It was naturally treated paper, which was obvious from its light tan color. Unfolding it revealed a phone number and a little character drawn with its tongue out.
There was a message under the number, written in such perfect handwriting that it looked as if it were typed: "Just in case you need to call and talk!"
When Yuta looked up, Toge was making the same face as the character he had drawn. The blond was smiling with his tongue out for a moment. It was just so odd that Yuta couldn't help but laugh. Toge responded by holding his hand up, causing Yuta to instinctively wince.
Maki spoke up, "He wants a high-five. No one is going to hit you, don't be stupid."
Yuta's tension eased. "Oh, yeah. Sure, I'll put you in my phone."
He held up his pale hand, and they slapped skin with a notably loud crack. It stung Yuta's palm-Toge was surprisingly strong. He must have been hiding a muscular figure under those layers. Yuta blushed at the thought.
As soon as Toge left the room, Gojo hurried to Yuta. "Is that Inumaki's phone number!? Jealous! Can I see it, please? Just for a second."
"No," Yuta firmly said, hiding it from the taller man's pale blue eyes.
"Come on! He's the only person in this group that I don't have personal information on!" Gojo stamped his foot on the ground.
"Probably so you don't break into his house too," Yuta said.
Yuta hadn't realized until that moment that he had been smiling since Toge made him laugh. He had smiled earlier, but that was just for show. If you wanted good tips from families, you learned to smile no matter how terrible your mood was. Usually, the forced smile made the feelings worse. It was like trying to wear a retainer after leaving it out for too long-it hurt. Maybe there were two reasons to come back.