Remi stared at his reflection in the classroom window, barely registering Mrs. Caldwin's voice as she droned on about cellular mitosis. The autumn sun cast long shadows across the school grounds, and his thoughts drifted to the D&D session planned for the weekend. Johnny had been texting him ideas for their next campaign between classes, providing a welcome distraction from the growing knot in his stomach.

The bell's sharp ring jolted him back to reality. As his classmates hurriedly packed their bags, eager for lunch period, Remi took his time. He'd learned through bitter experience that timing was everything in high school. Too early to lunch meant dealing with the initial rush and its associated chaos; too late meant picking through whatever remained of the day's offerings.

"Don't forget your lab reports are due tomorrow!" Mrs. Caldwin called out to the already emptying classroom. Remi nodded absently, though he'd finished his report days ago. Academic work, at least, was something he could control.

Making his way through the gradually thinning crowds in the hallway, Remi arrived at the cafeteria at what should have been the perfect moment. The initial lunch rush had subsided, but there were still plenty of decent options available. The familiar weight of his backpack provided some comfort as he collected his tray and navigated between the crowded tables, searching for an empty spot.

His gaze caught on Liza, perched at her usual table surrounded by her cheer squad friends. She sat beside Shawn Baker, their school's celebrated athlete, her hand casually draped over his shoulder as she laughed at something he'd said. Remi quickly averted his eyes, not wanting to draw attention.

Too late.

The sound of a chair scraping against linoleum was his only warning. As he passed their table, Liza's arm shot out, perfectly timed to catch his tray. The collision sent his lunch sprawling across the floor, the cheap plastic tray clattering against the ground with a sound that seemed to echo through the suddenly quiet cafeteria.

"Oh my god, I am so sorry!" Liza's voice dripped with mock sincerity. "I didn't see you there!"

The laughter started slowly, rippling outward from their table until it seemed to fill the entire space. Remi stood frozen, staring at his scattered lunch, aware of every eye in the room fixed on him. His chest felt tight, each breath becoming increasingly difficult as the walls of the cafeteria seemed to close in.

"Better watch where you're going next time," Shawn added, his tone carrying an edge that made the threat clear.

Remi's face burned as he knelt to gather his fallen food, hands trembling slightly. The urge to disappear, to somehow make himself smaller, was overwhelming. Without looking up, he could feel Shawn's satisfied smirk, could picture the way the other boy would be lounging back in his chair, arm draped possessively around Liza's shoulders.

His vision blurred as he abandoned the scattered remains of his lunch, the cheap plastic tray forgotten on the floor. Each step away from the scene felt like moving through water, the cacophony of laughter seeming to follow him like a physical presence. His feet carried him instinctively toward the exit, muscle memory guiding him through the maze of tables and staring faces.

The hallway offered no respite—if anything, the sudden quiet made the echoes of humiliation louder in his head. The boys' bathroom near the science wing beckoned like a sanctuary. It was usually empty during lunch period, tucked away in a quieter corner of the school. Remi burst through the door, the familiar scent of industrial cleaner and damp paper towels greeting him as he stumbled to the nearest sink.

His reflection in the scratched mirror told its own story: flushed cheeks, eyes too bright, hair disheveled from his hasty retreat. The cold water felt shocking against his skin as he splashed his face, trying to wash away the burning shame that seemed to have settled into his very pores. His hands gripped the edges of the porcelain sink until his knuckles turned white, watching water droplets fall from his chin into the drain.

For a moment, the only sounds were his ragged breathing and the steady drip of the leaky faucet two sinks down. In that brief solitude, Remi felt his chest constrict with a sob he refused to let escape. He wouldn't give them that satisfaction. He couldn't.

The bathroom door creaked open behind him, the sound like a gunshot in the tiled space. Heavy footsteps—multiple sets—echoed off the walls. Before Remi could turn around, Shawn's voice cut through his momentary haven.

"Can't even clean up your own mess? That's pretty pathetic, Halistaad."

The words struck deeper than any physical blow, each syllable carefully chosen to maximize impact. Remi felt stripped of something essential—his dignity, his sense of self, perhaps both. The fluorescent lights suddenly seemed too bright, too harsh, exposing every vulnerability he'd tried to hide.

Remi caught a glimpse of movement in the mirror – James Prescott and Eddie Enfield flanking Shawn, spreading out to cut off any easy escape to the door. His heart hammered against his ribs as he straightened up, water still dripping from his chin.

"I asked you a question, Halistaad." Shawn's voice carried that familiar edge of casual cruelty. "What's wrong? Too good to clean up after yourself?"

"Just leave me alone," Remi managed, hating how his voice cracked on the last word.

James let out a sharp laugh. "Or what? You'll go crying to Ms. Thurnglad again?" He affected a mocking falsetto. "'Oh, the big mean boys are being so unfair to me!'"

"Probably already has his little complaint form filled out," Eddie added, moving closer. His stocky frame seemed to take up more space in the confined bathroom, making the walls feel like they were closing in.

Shawn stepped forward, forcing Remi to back up until he hit the cold tile wall. "You know what your problem is, Halistaad? You think you're better than everyone else. Walking around with your nose in those fantasy books, acting like you're too good for the rest of us."

"I don't—" Remi started to protest, but Shawn slammed his palm against the wall next to Remi's head, the sharp crack echoing off the tiles.

"You don't what?" Shawn leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "You don't know your place? Because I think it's time someone taught you exactly where you belong."

Eddie's meaty hand grabbed Remi's shoulder, spinning him around to face the mirror. "Take a good look, loser. This is what pathetic looks like."

The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, harsh and unforgiving as Remi stared at his own reflection, flanked by his tormentors. His face was still wet from the sink, but now he could feel hot tears threatening to spill over. The shame of it, of being so weak, so helpless, burned worse than any physical pain they could inflict.

"Remember tryouts?" James stepped closer, a cruel smile playing at his lips. "The way you completely choked when Coach ran the drills? I've never seen anyone look so pathetic on the field." His voice dropped to a stage whisper. "Though watching you try to explain to your dad why you didn't make the cut—now that was entertainment."

The memory hit Remi like a physical blow. He could still see his father's disappointed face, still hear the lecture about "applying yourself" and "living up to your potential." James had been there for all of it, watching from the parking lot with that same smirk he wore now.

Something snapped inside Remi. Maybe it was the culmination of years of torment, maybe it was the way his reflection looked so small and scared, or maybe it was just blind panic. He drove his elbow back into Eddie's stomach, catching the larger boy by surprise. In the moment of confusion, he ducked under Shawn's arm and bolted for the door.

He ran until his lungs burned, until the school was far behind him and the residential streets of Boston's suburbs stretched out ahead. Only then did he slow to a walk, his breath coming in ragged gasps that had as much to do with held-back tears as physical exertion. The midday sun cast sharp shadows across neat lawns and cookie-cutter houses, a perfect suburban tableau that felt mockingly peaceful after what he'd just experienced.

Remi walked without direction, letting his feet carry him wherever they wanted. Past the local grocery store where his mother shopped, past the GameStop where he and Johnny spent too many afternoons browsing games they couldn't afford, past all the familiar landmarks of his daily life. Each step put more distance between him and the school, but the weight of humiliation followed like a shadow he couldn't shake.

His phone buzzed periodically in his pocket – probably Andrew checking on him, or maybe the school calling to report his absence. He ignored it. The thought of explaining where he was, of putting into words what had happened, made his throat close up. How could he tell anyone that he'd let them corner him again? That he'd run away like a coward?

The residential streets gradually gave way to more industrial areas. Train tracks cut through this part of town, a reminder of Boston's industrial past. The rhythmic click of his shoes against the sidewalk became almost hypnotic as his mind circled back to James's words, to his father's disappointment, to Liza's perfectly timed cruelty in the cafeteria.

A commuter train rumbled past in the distance, its horn echoing off the old brick buildings. Remi found himself drawn toward the sound, toward the massive metal bridges and empty lots that marked the edge of town. Here, at least, there was no one to see him, no one to judge his weakness or mock his failures.

The late autumn wind picked up, carrying the first hint of winter's bite. Remi pulled his light jacket closer, realizing for the first time that he'd left his backpack behind in his rush to escape. Another mistake to add to the day's growing list. His father would have plenty to say about that, about all of this, if he found out.

When had he started walking along the tracks? The gravel crunched under his feet as he picked his way between the rails, each step carrying him further from the familiar parts of town. The industrial buildings loomed around him like silent witnesses to his exile, their broken windows and graffiti-covered walls a stark contrast to the manicured lawns he'd left behind.

He should go back. He knew he should go back. But the thought of returning, of facing everyone after running away, felt impossible. Better to keep walking, to lose himself in the rhythm of his steps and the quiet solitude of the abandoned rail yard. Better to be anywhere but where people could see him, could judge him, could remind him of everything he wasn't and could never be.

Another train whistle sounded in the distance, closer this time. Remi barely registered it, lost in his thoughts as the shadows lengthened around him.

He didn't stop until he was outside the school building entirely, gulping in the fresh air as if he'd been drowning. The late autumn wind felt sharp against his heated face, but he welcomed it. Anything was better than going back inside, than facing what waited for him there.

In that moment, standing alone in the school yard with his heart pounding and his hands still shaking, Remi made a decision. He couldn't—wouldn't—go back in. Not today. Maybe not ever.

He started walking, then running, letting his feet carry him away from the school, away from the humiliation, away from everything. Each step put more distance between him and that cafeteria scene, but the weight of it stayed with him, settling into his bones like a cold that wouldn't lift.

The world had never felt quite so vast and empty as it did in that moment, with nothing but the sound of his own ragged breathing and the steady rhythm of his feet against the pavement to keep him company.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Johnathon gripped his plastic fork so hard it threatened to snap. He stared at Remi's abandoned tray, at the scattered food that the janitor was now quietly cleaning up. Beside him, Andrew sat in uncharacteristic silence, his own lunch forgotten.

"We should have done something," Johnny muttered, his voice tight. He'd been in the middle of explaining the latest episode of an anime series to Andrew when it happened, his words dying mid-sentence as he watched Liza's perfectly timed "accident" unfold.

Andrew pushed his glasses up his nose, a nervous habit that surfaced whenever he felt helpless. "Like what? Take on Shawn and his whole crew? That's like a level one party trying to fight a red dragon." He paused, then added quietly, "We'd just make it worse for him."

They both knew he was right. The social hierarchy of the school was as rigid as any fantasy game's class system, and they were firmly at the bottom. Johnny's extensive knowledge of anime and Andrew's mastery of D&D rules meant nothing in the face of Shawn's athletic status and James's casual cruelty.

"Did you see where he went?" Johnny asked, finally setting down his fork before it could break. He'd been the one to grab Remi's backpack after his friend fled, knowing they'd have to return it to him eventually.

"Bathroom, probably," Andrew said, glancing toward the cafeteria exit. "But Shawn and his friends followed him." He swallowed hard, guilt written across his features. "Maybe we should tell someone? Ms. Thurnglad—"

"Won't do anything," Johnny cut him off. "Remember last time? She just gave Remi that whole speech about 'learning to handle social situations' and 'developing resilience.'" The bitterness in his voice was palpable.

They sat in uncomfortable silence as the cafeteria's regular buzz of conversation gradually returned to normal, as if nothing had happened. As if their best friend hadn't just been publicly humiliated and driven from the room.

"He's been acting different lately," Andrew said finally, poking at his cold mashed potatoes. "More... I don't know. Withdrawn? Ever since the team tryouts."

Johnny nodded slowly. "His dad's been rough on him about that. You should have heard him last game night, going on about 'living up to his potential' and 'manning up.'" He mimicked Remi's father's stern tone with surprising accuracy.

A commotion near the cafeteria doors drew their attention. Eddie burst in, his face red with exertion or anger – possibly both. He spoke quickly to Shawn's other friends, gesturing animatedly. Even from across the room, Johnny and Andrew could guess what it meant: Remi had gotten away from them.

"Should we try to find him?" Johnny asked, already knowing the answer. They'd played this scene out before.

"I'll keep his backpack," Andrew said, carefully lifting it from under the table. "We can drop it off at his house after school." He hesitated. "Maybe see if he made it home okay."

The weight of Remi's backpack felt wrong on Andrew's shoulder as he sat through his afternoon classes. He'd carried it alongside his own from classroom to classroom, earning curious glances from teachers who knew it wasn't his but didn't bother to ask. Each period, he found himself glancing at Remi's empty seat, half-expecting his friend to suddenly appear with some explanation about where he'd been.

By sixth period calculus, he'd checked his phone at least two dozen times. No messages from Remi. Johnny had texted twice: once to say he'd checked the library during study hall with no luck, and again to report that he'd overheard Shawn bragging about how Remi had "run away crying."

The final bell couldn't come soon enough. Andrew met Johnny at their usual spot by the bike racks, both of them scanning the crowd of departing students out of habit, knowing Remi wouldn't be among them.

"I texted Rachel," Johnny said, unlocking his bike. "Remi's sister," he added unnecessarily. "She hasn't heard from him either."

Andrew adjusted the two backpacks awkwardly. "I should take this to his house. His dad will flip if he doesn't have his homework tomorrow." He knew all too well how Michael Halistaad could get about academic responsibilities.

"Want me to come with?" Johnny offered, but Andrew could see him glancing at his watch. He had his shift at the comic shop in thirty minutes.

"Nah, I got it. Text me if you hear anything?"

The ride to Remi's house took longer than usual. Andrew pedaled his beat-up mountain bike slowly through the neighborhood, the two backpacks making him wobble slightly as he took the long route, checking all their usual hangout spots along the way. The GameStop where they spent too much time browsing games they couldn't afford. The park where they sometimes did their D&D sessions when the weather was nice. The comic shop where Johnny worked, even though he knew his friend wouldn't start his shift for another few minutes.

No sign of Remi anywhere.

Finally, he turned onto Remi's street. The Halistaad house looked exactly as it always did – neat lawn, trimmed hedges, and Rachel's pink bicycle propped against the garage door. Andrew hesitated at the end of the driveway, suddenly unsure. What would he say to Remi's parents? To Rachel?

Before he could decide, the front door opened and Rachel stepped out onto the porch. At fourteen, she looked more like her mother every day, though she carried herself with a confidence that seemed beyond her years. Her expression shifted from hope to disappointment when she saw Andrew standing alone.

"Still nothing?" she asked as Andrew walked his bike up the driveway.

He shook his head. "Brought his backpack." He lifted it slightly, like evidence. "Thought he might need it."

Rachel bit her lip, a gesture so similar to her brother's that it made Andrew's chest tight. "Dad's going to be home soon," she said quietly. "He's already called twice asking if Remi's back yet. Mom's trying to cover, saying he had a group project or something, but..." She trailed off, her usual self-assurance cracking slightly.

"Can I..." Andrew gestured vaguely toward the house. "Maybe check his room? In case he came back without anyone noticing?"

They both knew it was unlikely, but Rachel nodded and held the door open. The house felt different without Remi in it – quieter, somehow. Their last D&D session was still set up on the dining room table, character sheets and dice scattered across the surface. Mrs. Halistaad must have left it untouched, hoping her son would return to finish the game.

Remi's room was exactly as they'd left it yesterday, right down to the rulebook still open on his desk to the page about monster encounter tables. Andrew set the backpack down carefully next to the desk, then stood there awkwardly, not sure what else to do.

"He's never done this before," Rachel said from the doorway. Her voice was small, worried in a way Andrew had never heard from her. "Just... disappeared."

"He'll come back," Andrew said, trying to sound more confident than he felt. "He always does."

Rachel's phone buzzed, making them both jump. She checked it, then paled slightly. "Dad's on his way home. He's... not happy."

Andrew nodded, taking the hint. "Text me? If you hear from him?"

"Yeah." Rachel followed him back downstairs. At the front door, she hesitated. "Andrew? You don't think he'd... do anything stupid, right?"

The question hung in the air between them, heavy with unspoken fears. Andrew thought about the look on Remi's face as he fled the cafeteria, about all the little changes in his friend's behavior lately that he'd noticed but hadn't really registered until now.

"He'll be okay," he said finally, not quite answering her question. "Remi's smarter than people give him credit for."

But as he rode home in the lengthening shadows of late afternoon, Andrew couldn't shake the feeling that something was very wrong. He pulled out his phone to text Johnny, then stopped. What could he say that they didn't already know?

Instead, he found himself opening their D&D group chat, staring at Remi's last message from just yesterday: "Can't wait for Saturday's session! Things are finally going to turn around for my character!"

Andrew hoped his friend was right – about more than just the game.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

End of Chapter

Hello All! Another chapter up. Continuing to write!

Also, a quick note. Yes, the book will get to the Isekai! One thing that usually bugs me a little bit about so many Isekai genre is either how short a time they put into establishing the main character if they’re going to do so in the beginning pre-isekai. Especially in the case of them getting reborn. Either take some time or just have them appear reborn and tell their past in the story. The best ones of course (Such as Jobless Reincarnation and Rising of the Bookworm) do either of those. But seriously, so many have like the equivalent of a half chapter or two of character development and it is so cookie cutter. So, in this one I decided to make a full backstory. Because it shapes Remi. Especially later in the rebirth cycle.

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