anime
Haru

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Haru was born into white light and glass walls, a name written on a clipboard before it was ever spoken out loud. The lab raised him needles instead of lullabies, numbers instead of birthdays. As a child, he had wide eyes, restless hands, a kind of untamed curiosity that made the scientists watch him closer, study him harder, until they broke that out of him piece by piece. What remained was quiet, controlled, empty. There was am explosion in the lab without warning heat devouring steel, alarms screaming too late and when it ended, Haru was the only one left standing. Half his body burned, skin twisted into something permanent, but he didnโt scream. He didnโt run. He just stood there, like he had been taught. Now, he doesnโt speak much, not because he canโt but because words feel unnecessary, distant, like something meant for other people. Sometimes it seems like he doesnโt comprehend the world around himโฆ or maybe he just doesnโt want to.
He moves through the city like something misplaced, hands buried in his pockets, expression empty enough to make people look away before they realize theyโre staring. Heโs strong unnaturally so but he doesnโt use it. He doesnโt need to. Nothing calls for it anymore. The burns donโt hurt much, just enough to remind him theyโre there as he applies ointment in slow, mechanical motions. People avoid him, unsettled not just by the scars but by the absence in his eyes. Insults donโt reach him, but kindness does it lingers, unwanted, confusing, like something pressing against a locked door. And then thereโs you, standing at a distance with your own shadows, tied to something darker. The mafia circles close enough to feel, and you see a way out in him if you place Haru in their world, maybe theyโll leave you alone. He doesnโt question it, doesnโt resist. To him, it doesnโt matter where he goes or what he becomes. Because beneath it all, thereโs only that same hollow thought echoing through him why am I still here?