The door slid open with a sharp rattle.
No one called out to me.
I didn't call out to anyone, either.
People are fascinating creatures; they love nothing more than adding a few extra tails to a juicy rumor. Yuji was the one who told me what the school's version of "me" looked like.
○ A degenerate stalker who had been harassing Yuzuha since they were little. A scoundrel who used violence against her at every opportunity to force her to be with him. He hadn't been reported to the police only because of Yuzuha’s infinite mercy.
○ A criminal whose assault charges were already finalized after he attacked Yamasaki out of jealousy.
○ A repeat offender who had assaulted other boys for approaching Yuzuha in the past, only to silence them by digging up dirt to use as blackmail. Currently under active investigation.
What even was this? I had to laugh.
A stalker "since a long time ago"? Just how old were we supposed to be?
And apparently, the police were involved in everything—so where were the court dates? Where was the sentencing?
It was a truly infantile narrative. But the biggest problem was...
"Honestly, he’s been such a burden for years. He wouldn't let me do anything unless he was right behind me. If I ever said no, he’d just hit me."
It was Yuzuha.
She was the one taking the lead, validating every fabricated rumor and feeding the fire. As for why she was doing it...
"Yuzuha, you’re seriously so pitiful."
"It’s okay, we’ve got your back!"
"Yeah, we won't let a criminal like that get anywhere near you."
"Yuzuha, let's take you somewhere fun next time to cheer you up."
"Yeah... thank you, everyone. I won't let him win. I’m just so happy you’re all here for me."
That was why.
She had developed a taste for making me the villain so she could be placed on a pedestal and pampered by the masses. She played the tragic heroine perfectly, clearly intoxicated by the attention.
"Yuzuha, let's go on a date next week."
"Really!? I’d love to!"
Apparently, she and Yamasaki had started using first names before I even realized it. I didn't know if he was doing it specifically to spite me, but Yamasaki would look my way with a nasty, mocking smirk every time he invited her out.
Of course, it wasn't as if I did nothing. I gathered the people I thought were my friends and tried to explain. Since Yuzuha had used me this thoroughly, I no longer felt any obligation to stay silent out of loyalty.
But not only did they refuse to believe a word I said, they just demanded "proof." Since I didn't have any, it was my word against hers. Even though some of them must have heard the stories about Yamasaki’s reputation, they flatly labeled me a liar.
In the end, I didn't receive a shred of cooperation. Instead, my attempts to defend myself were treated as pathetic acts of desperation born from ugly jealousy.
From that point on, the situation became almost comical.
Those flimsy lies took on a life of their own. The rumors spread to other classes, growing more exaggerated with every whisper. By the time I was a third-year in middle school, I had become a distinguished criminal—stalker, assailant, blackmailer.
People said that if you stayed near me, the police would treat you as an accomplice. The rumors moved with such terrifying speed that their sheer momentum seemed to grant them credibility.
Except for Yuji, every person I had once called a friend vanished.
Did they really believe such preposterous lies? Did they truly think I was that kind of person? I felt like I had finally seen their true colors. I realized that "friends" were only worth that much, and I lost all desire to clear the air.
If they were the kind of people who demanded proof before they would trust me, then I wanted nothing to do with them. Yuzuha’s words were accepted as absolute truth, while mine were met with skepticism. The sheer absurdity of it was suffocating.
"Kazunari, if you’re going to make a move, tell me. Don't try to handle this alone."
Yuji was my only salvation. If he hadn't been there, I probably would have stopped believing in humanity altogether.
I didn't know it at the time, but Yuji was working behind the scenes. He investigated and leaked stories about Yamasaki’s constant two-timing to try and divert some of the heat away from me. But since he was my friend, anyone he talked to directly just treated him with the same hostility they showed me. With no effective way to fight back, all he could do was keep chipping away at Yamasaki’s reputation.
Ultimately, as a final act of spite, I chose to stay in that classroom.
If my mere presence made them uncomfortable, then that was exactly what I wanted. I refused to give them the satisfaction of running away or transferring schools.
One morning, I walked into the classroom to find Yuzuha crying.
What happened? Was it Yamasaki?
Remembering the conversation I’d overheard between Yamasaki and his cronies, a worst-case scenario flashed through my mind.
"Yuzuha, cheer up..."
"Two-timing her is the absolute worst!"
"I guess the rumors about him were true after all."
From the snippets of conversation, it seemed Yamasaki’s cheating—though who knew how many girls he was actually seeing—had finally come to light.
I wondered if this would finally give my words some weight. It was a naive hope, but I couldn't help the slight surge of expectation.
What followed, however, was a farce.
Yuzuha clung to Yamasaki the moment he arrived, and the class erupted in sympathy for her. Then, accepting Yuzuha’s terms, Yamasaki agreed to dump the other girl right in front of her.
I didn't want to believe she was that calculating, but Yuzuha seemed to be manipulating the atmosphere and the situation with terrifying precision.
Yamasaki called the other girl out and discarded her in front of Yuzuha—a cruel, public humiliation. By choosing Yuzuha in such a "decisive" way, the class somehow decided that Yamasaki had "sincerity."
I questioned their sanity.
Sincerity? Was this a joke? Was their collective common sense rotting away?
I didn't have the energy to care about others, but I felt a deep surge of pity for the girl he’d just thrown away. To be told you were just a toy in front of a crowd... the shock must have been devastating.
And yet, I knew Yamasaki still had other girls on the hook. He’d done whatever he wanted for years; he wasn't going to stop now. I didn't know what would happen to Yuzuha when she finally hit the ground, but it wasn't my problem anymore.
Yuzuha finally quieted down after that. Or rather, the chaos surrounding her finally settled.
Whether she was satisfied with her "victory" or just happy to have a boyfriend like Yamasaki, Yuzuha stopped showing any interest in me. Or more accurately, she acted as if I didn't exist.
And honestly? It was a relief.
Once Yuzuha and Yamasaki started ignoring me, the rest of the class did too. I was perfectly content to be treated like air.
My parents definitely knew something was wrong. My dad kept asking about school in that forced, awkward way of his, but I used Yuji to help maintain a cover story. Still, they weren't blind; they knew Yuzuha and I weren't speaking.
Because of the atmosphere at home, they didn't object when I suddenly announced I wanted to go to a high school outside the prefecture.
Yuzuha’s mother seemed bewildered by her daughter's sudden change in personality, but she eventually accepted it. She knew Yuzuha and I had drifted apart, and the frequent visits between our families stopped entirely.
The school trip was actually easy. As soon as we were split into groups, I went off on my own. I went where I wanted and did what I liked. Compared to the suffocating "needle-bed" of the classroom, it was heaven.
In school, I didn't speak to a soul except for Yuji. After school and on weekends, if Yuji was busy, I spent my time alone.
After winter break ended, the class was buzzing with stories about the Christmas party at the Yamasaki household. I ignored them all and buried myself in exam study.
As long as I got into high school, I would never have to see these shallow, infantile people again. That was the only thought that kept me going.
I passed my exams and finally reached graduation day. I tuned out the homeroom teacher’s empty sentimentality. I felt no nostalgia, no sadness—only a desperate urge to go home.
As soon as the yearbooks were handed out and the ceremony ended, I walked out. I had nothing to say to the teacher, and even less to say to my classmates. They could have their graduation parties and their after-parties.
I was leaving this house today. I didn't want to spend another minute in a town full of people like them.
Without looking back a single time, I left the school behind, as if throwing away every memory of that wretched middle school life.