Soon I realized—I had forgotten to lock my bicycle.
And I really wished I hadn't.
That's when I noticed them.
Three girls standing just near the racks. Their eyes flicked around, scanning the surroundings like they were up to something. One of them—Yuzuki Kurobane, if I remembered correctly—held something small and shiny. A box? An earring case?
I looked away.
I didn't want trouble. Not again.
My past had taught me well: if something seems suspicious, walk away. It's better to stay invisible than to be seen and blamed.
So I turned away and walked toward my bicycle. I carefully locked it this time. Just as I rounded the corner to head back, it happened.
One of them came sprinting toward me—Yuzuki, I think. She must've been in a hurry to pull something off. She slammed straight into me.
I staggered a step back but caught her gently by the arms before she could fall.
Her hair smelled faintly of lavender.
"I—Sorry," I mumbled with a soft, awkward smile, steadying her.
She didn't respond. Just bowed slightly and ran off, her footsteps disappearing down the corridor.
I didn't think much of it.
I wish I had.
Homeroom had barely begun when the door creaked open.
Ayane stepped in slowly. Her face blank, her posture unnervingly calm.
She looked around the room until her eyes locked on me.
"Haruki Tsukishiro," she said, her voice cold, sharp. "Can you open your bag?"
The classroom went silent.
I blinked. "W-What…?"
"You were the only one near the bicycle rack this morning," she added. "Something's missing."
My heart sank. My mouth went dry.
Our homeroom teacher looked up, clearly annoyed. "Haruki, just do it."
"But I didn't do anything," I said, but my voice sounded small—even to me.
I scanned the classroom for anyone who might speak up. Anyone who would say it wasn't like me. But all I saw were blank stares.
With trembling hands, I opened my schoolbag. My fingers barely responded. My breath caught in my throat.
Ayane stepped forward and reached in.
She pulled out a small, velvet jewelry box.
Time froze.
She opened it.
Inside gleamed a glittering earring.
Someone gasped.
And then came the whispers.
"That's Yuzuki's…"
"No way… he actually stole it?"
"I always knew he was weird…"
My legs felt weak. My chest tightened.
I looked toward the back of the room—where Yuzuki sat. She stared blankly at her desk. Her long hair veiled her eyes.
"I… I didn't… I didn't take anything!" I tried to speak, my voice barely above a whisper.
One of the boys stood. "Haruki, explain."
"I… I was at the racks," I stammered. "She ran into me—Yuzuki did. The earring must've slipped in my bag then, right? Right…?"
I turned to Yuzuki.
Desperate.
Begging.
"You remember… don't you? You… bumped into me. Please say something."
Yuzuki looked up slowly. Her eyes were cold.
"What are you saying?" she said aloud, clear enough for the whole class to hear. "That never happened."
My heart shattered.
"N-no…" I whispered. "Please… you know it wasn't me…"
In desperation, I stepped toward her, my hand landing lightly on her shoulder.
She recoiled instantly. "Don't touch me with your filthy hands!"
The room erupted in gasps.
"Enough!" the teacher barked, slamming his desk.
I froze. My knees buckled slightly.
The teacher's voice rang again: "Haruki Tsukishiro. Come with me."
My legs moved before my brain did.
The hallway outside felt colder than usual. My head hung low as I followed him in silence, every step heavier than the last.
I was so scared.
Was it my fault?
Was it just bad luck?
Was it wrong of me to get involved?
No matter how I looked at it—yes, it must've been my fault.
It's always been that way.
I sat in the staffroom. My palms cold. My shirt clinging to my back with nervous sweat. The ticking of a clock somewhere behind me seemed to echo louder than my heartbeat. My eyes were fixed on the wood grain of the desk—trying not to look up, because I didn't want to see her face again.
The teacher stood across from me—Ms. Hanekawa, her name tag read. She must've been newly appointed; she still wore that crisp formal suit that new teachers often did. Her long jet-black hair was pulled tightly into a ponytail. Her expression was sharp, angular—as if her entire face had been carved out of mistrust and superiority.
She wasn't angry.
She was worse.
She was disappointed. In me. Even though I had done nothing.
"I know the type," she finally said, folding her arms and glaring down at me. "Boys like you—quiet, timid, always pretending to be innocent—thinking you can take advantage of girls because they won't say anything."
Her words crashed into me like thunder. I flinched, my chair creaking softly under me.
"I-I didn't—" I tried to speak, but the words wouldn't come out properly.
"I don't want excuses," she snapped.
I shrank back instinctively. My throat closed. But I couldn't stay silent.
"It's a misunderstanding," I whispered. "I… I didn't take anything. I think it's just a prank… I—I saw them near the bicycle lot, but I didn't know they'd—"
"Oh, so now you're accusing them?" Her voice cut like a blade.
I shook my head quickly. "No… I-I'm just saying they might've…"
She sighed. "Then if you're telling the truth, your mother should be able to back you up. I'll call her. If she confirms your character, I'll believe your story. And I'll punish the girls for playing such a disgusting prank."
My heart dropped.
"…Please don't call her," I said quickly.
She blinked.
"Why not?" she asked slowly, her eyes narrowing. "Why would you stop me—unless you're lying?"
I swallowed. "I… I live with my mother. She's a single parent. She works all day, barely gets time to rest. If she finds out about this, I… she'll—"
"She'll what?" she asked, almost mockingly.
"…She'll be sad."
She stared at me for a long second.
Then she slammed her hand on the desk.
"THAT is just an excuse! If you don't want me to call your mother, then accept your crime!"
Tears welled up in my eyes. My lips trembled.
I couldn't… I couldn't let her call my mom.
I couldn't be the reason she looked broken again.
"…It was my fault," I said in a hushed, broken voice. "I'm sorry… I was wrong. Just please don't call my mom."
Ms. Hanekawa smirked, satisfied. "Good. Then come with me."
We walked toward the classroom.
The halls were quiet—too quiet. I could hear my own footsteps echoing like accusations. My breath caught in my throat as we reached the sliding door.
And then—
Silence.
Everyone turned to look. Their eyes sharpened like knives. I didn't even need to hear them to know what they were thinking.
"Yuzuki," the teacher called out. Yuzuki Kurobane stood up, walked to the front with the calm grace of someone who'd already won.
Her face didn't show guilt.
It showed poise.
But for one flicker—just one second—I saw it. A small tremble in her fingers. A slight glance downward.
And then it was gone.
"Apologize," Ms. Hanekawa said to me.
The word hit harder than I expected.
Apologize?
For what?
For being framed?
For trusting her?
But then…
I remembered Mom.
So I bowed my head.
Lower than I ever had before.
My tears fell to the ground like a quiet rain.
"…I'm sorry…" I choked out.
"…It was my fault. Please forgive me. I'll take any punishment."
And then—
Yuzuki smiled.
Not kindly.
It was cruel. Cold. Playful.
"For the rest of the year," she said with syrup-sweet venom, "you'll do whatever I say."
I was stunned.
And yet—I nodded. What else could I do?
The classroom broke into whispers.
Snickers.
Judgment.
I felt their gazes—piercing through me like a thousand needles.
That was the beginning.
From that day forward, everything spiraled.
Ayane started first—making me run errands during breaks.
Reika followed—spilling my lunch "by accident," laughing as I picked it up.
Yuzuki gave the commands. Always smiling. Always acting like it was a joke. But it never was.
My bag was tossed out the window once.
My gym clothes disappeared.
They tied my shoelaces together during P.E. and laughed when I fell.
My locker?
Covered in words I can't write here.
Things no one should ever be called.
Even when I looked around for help—no one met my eyes.
No one cared.
No one stood up.
Because no one ever does… for people like me.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------