‘Don’t walk, just start crawling back to Tokyo, you filthy low-class pet’.

After spending half the night crying and cursing him to Sakura— no matter how much I curse, I keep it low to a whisper— this is the message I wake up to. 

It carries the same shock as a cold bucket of water to the face. I spend ten minutes looking at it from every angle and I arrive at one conclusion, which is— 

“What the hell is this…?”. Calling me a low-class pet is a slur, and a very ...