Chapitre 3: Bullied I
The yellow cab moved slowly through the heavy traffic, its engine humming steadily as the boy and the girl sat in silence. The atmosphere inside the car was tense, though neither spoke a word. The boy glanced at the girl, noticing how she kept her gaze fixed ahead, her face devoid of any emotion. Without a word, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief, offering it to her.
She didn't acknowledge it. She didn't move or make any effort to wipe away the drying blood from her lip. Her silence wasn't surprising—she had been like this ever since they got into the taxi, detached and unresponsive. The boy, Toji, merely sighed and turned to look out the window, letting the crumpled handkerchief rest on his lap.
The driver cleared his throat, breaking the quiet. "Where to?" he asked, his eyes flicking to the rearview mirror to catch a glimpse of them.
Toji looked at the girl for an answer, waiting for her to respond. After a moment of hesitation, she finally spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. "XXXX XXX XM," she muttered.
The driver nodded and resumed the journey, the car slowly inching forward through the congested streets. The traffic was relentless, but neither of them seemed to mind. They were wrapped up in their own thoughts. Toji kept his eyes glued to the passing scenery outside, while the girl, despite her best efforts, stole a few quick glances at him. He didn't notice, or at least pretended not to.
The silence persisted throughout the ride, each minute passing with only the sounds of honking cars and the occasional shuffle from the driver as he navigated the narrow lanes. Soon, the cab came to a halt in front of a dilapidated house. The building looked worn down, its paint peeling, windows slightly cracked, and the garden overgrown with weeds. It wasn't a place anyone would want to come home to.
Toji stepped out first, paying the driver with the money he had set aside for groceries. He counted the bills with a slight grimace, watching the cash slip from his fingers as if it pained him physically to part with it. After the fare was settled, he turned to the girl, who was already stepping out of the cab, clutching her school bag tightly to her chest.
"Thank you," she said, her voice soft but hollow, as if she was forcing herself to be polite. "You can go now. I can handle the rest myself."
Toji raised an eyebrow at her words. "I'll follow you until I see your guardian," he insisted, his voice calm but firm.
At the mention of a guardian, the girl tensed up, her body stiffening. For a moment, she looked like she was going to say something, but then she stopped herself. She lowered her head and muttered, "Please, you can go. It's fine."
Toji, however, wasn't going to budge. "I insist," he replied, though his motives weren't as noble as they might have seemed. To anyone watching, it might have looked like he was simply being a gentleman, making sure the girl got home safely. But in reality, Toji was just hoping he could get some money from her parents to cover the cab fare—and, if possible, get enough for the ride back too. After all, he was notoriously stingy, known among his peers for refusing to do anything unless there was a financial incentive. His frugality was unmatched, and the idea of losing money without reimbursement was more unbearable to him than the awkwardness of this situation.
The front door creaked open, and a middle-aged man appeared. He looked worn out, his eyes heavy with fatigue. When he saw the girl standing there, bruised and battered, his face twisted with concern. "Minji!" he called out, rushing toward her.
But Minji, the girl, didn't even look at him. She brushed past him wordlessly, heading straight for her room upstairs. The man's shoulders slumped as he watched her retreating figure. He sighed heavily before turning his attention to Toji.
Toji knew what was coming next. With a deep breath, he stepped forward. "Your daughter's getting bullied pretty badly," he said bluntly, cutting straight to the point. There was no use in sugarcoating the situation.
The man lowered his head, his hands shaking slightly. He looked pitiful, like a man who had no control over his own life, let alone the life of his daughter. "What should I do?" he asked, his voice barely audible.
Toji scratched the back of his head, feeling a bit awkward. "You should complain to the school management, for starters," he suggested.
The man didn't respond right away, but Toji could see the helplessness in his eyes. It was as if he didn't believe that going to the school would solve anything.
Running a hand through his hair, Toji sighed again. "But listen, if you report it, it might make things worse for her. I've got a feeling the girl bullying your daughter has some connections—enough to gather a mob of people to gang up on her and get away with it. You need to be careful."
The man looked up, his expression one of desperation. It was clear that he didn't know what to do, trapped in a situation where his daughter was suffering, and he was powerless to stop it. Toji didn't have much else to say. He wasn't good at this emotional stuff. He had done his part by bringing Minji home safely, and that was enough for him.
As the silence stretched on, Toji finally stuck out his hand, shamelessly asking for compensation. "If I could get the taxi fare back, that'd be great. I used up my money for groceries."
The middle-aged man looked startled for a moment before rummaging through his pockets. He pulled out a worn, beaten-up wallet, the leather cracked and faded from years of use. Inside, there wasn't much—just a few crumpled bills. The man hesitated, clearly embarrassed by how little he had to offer.
Toji glanced at the pathetic amount in the man's hand and sighed again, shaking his head. "You know what? Keep it," he muttered, turning around. He felt a twinge of guilt, but it wasn't strong enough to stick. He couldn't squeeze money out of someone who barely had any to give.
Without another word, Toji walked away, his hands shoved into his pockets as he made his way down the street. He didn't look back. The encounter had drained him, not just physically but mentally. He wasn't the type to get involved in other people's business, but somehow, he had ended up tangled in this mess.
Now, more than 11 miles from home and without any money, reality started to weigh on Toji. He checked his pockets—empty. No wallet, no spare change. A sigh escaped him as he glanced at the girl beside him, still dazed from the encounter.
Toji's eyes scanned the street ahead, knowing full well the nearest ATM was miles away. "Of course," he muttered under his breath, shaking his head in mild frustration.
Cracking his neck, he resigned himself to the situation. "I hate sweating."
With hesitation, Toji set off, jogging down the street, knowing that a long run to the ATM was now his only option.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone