(Akari's mother does not express her disapproval in the ways that Akari expects — screams of "problem child!" like how the principal had so courteously dubbed her, quiet laments that Akari should be better and yet is not — but she makes her disappointment plain in things that she does not do. She does not bother to correct the so-called well wishers that come by the house in the evenings, when they ask why Akari had felt the need to assault anyone at all. She does not tell off the doctor who suddenly takes an interest in Akari's sexual habits, even though he never once expressed such exaggerated concern before. She does not speak to Akari unless it is to tell her to come downstairs for dinner, or to tell her when new books and letters have arrived for her.
Her father, though — he calls sparingly, only a couple times each month, but when he does, the first thing he asks after is Akari's well-being. He asks if she's been eating and sleeping properly, if she's been getting enough sunlight — and then there's a half-hearted admonishment wedged into the conversation somewhere that it's not healthy for a girl her age to be cooped up indoors for all hours of the day, every day. It's not like she wants to lie to him, but its easier than disappointing him, too. She dodges the topic for as long as she can, in hopes that she won't have to pretend that she's done at least something besides study day in and day out, for some hazy, distant point in the future that she's no longer sure even exists.
What happens to girls like her — or better yet, girls who do actually participate in the things that man had accused her of? They don't get arrested like she did, because they're smart enough to avoid the authorities. They know all the tricks and tells, when to go all in and when to pull out. If they're lucky — or unlucky, depending on how you look at it — they run into an organization built to help girls like them, where they're told that it's not their fault but rather that of the society that made things that way.
But no, this is her fault. Depending on who you ask, either she shouldn't have gotten involved at all, or her parents did a terrible job of raising her. She tries not to think about Mayu or Airi or anyone else at school, because it means thinking about the fact that no one has tried to contact her even once since it happened. She tries not to think about the letters her mother sometimes forgets to throw away — the ones telling her to die, the ones demanding that she leave town lest they retaliate. She tries not to think about what the people who sent those letters could be doing to her mother right now, who is not afraid to leave the house like Akari is. She tries not to think about the endless rejections from high schools both near and far, the way every principal and school staff member says but also doesn't say that there's no place anywhere in the world for a worthless criminal like her.
So she waits, and she studies — and she doesn't hide herself away, not really, but she doesn't dare to hope for anything better than this.)
Three days into the new school term, a senpai named Haru Okumura pulls up next to Akari in a limousine, just outside the train station, and gives her a ride the rest of the way to school. It isn't quite like that first day with Kamoshida, because Haru's sweetness is genuine in a way that his is not, and there is no Ann to express disapproval at at the entire situation. She doesn't call her "Kurusu-chan," and tells her right away that she's doing this because Kawakami had asked it of her. "She said you might connect better with a senpai than a teacher," she says halfway through a tour of the school.
Akari pauses and considers her words, because Haru doesn't know — she would treat Akari differently if she did. "Thank you so much, Okumura-san," is what she finally settles for. It's not awkward to talk to her like it was with Ann and Shiho. Conversation flows more easily because most of it is prompted by Haru. All Akari has to do is respond, and that alone is so much easier than having to come up with new topics to discuss.
Because the thing is, it's hard to make new friends, even though that's exactly what's expected of her. It's hard because too much time has passed since Akari last spent any substantial amount of time with people her age. She never thought socializing would be a skill that someone could forget, and yet here she is: a transfer student at a new school without a single clue of what to say to the people around her unless they speak to her first. It's fine for the most part, because most of the students pay her little mind. She says "good morning" to Ann every morning and goodbye before leaving at the end of the school day. She smiles and waves every time she passes Shiho in the hallways. And now, there's Haru who — seemingly — does not judge her and is endlessly patient with her.
So when the school's volleyball rally comes around and the students spread out into their own individual friend groups, no longer bound together in class units, Akari doesn't really worry. She stays with Ann as their class trickles into the school gym, waves at Haru on the opposite side of the court, and tries to give Shiho, who's stretching on the court, an encouraging smile.
Ann had said, before, that volleyball rallies tend to be more of an ego boost for Kamoshida, illustrious former Olympic athlete and now coach that he is, than a display of genuine school spirit. Sometimes people in the first string of either the boys' or girls' team face off against people of the second and third strings. Sometimes the girls' team plays against the boys' team. Today, though, it's teachers that play against first string members of both the boys' and girls' teams. There are some people on the students' side, besides Shiho, that Akari can recognize: Yuuki Mishima, her class's representative, for one.
A tall girl with her short hair pushed back with a headband — Kaname-senpai, Ann calls her — serves the ball. A teacher on the other side of the net fumbles with it for a moment, and another dives to correct his mistake and launch the ball into the air. Then Kamoshida spikes the ball in Shiho's direction. It moves too fast — it hits her in the arm so hard that it sends her staggering, and Shiho winces as she rubs the spot on her arm where it had hit her. Kamoshida frowns, though not out of concern. "It's okay," Yuuki tells her, offering her an uneasy smile. "You'll get it next time." Shiho gives him a smile in return that looks more like a grimace.
Kaname serves the ball again, and this time, the teacher that had fumbled with it before sets it properly. Kamoshida spikes the ball again, though this time towards Yuuki. It still moves too fast. There are two sickening thuds: one as the ball slams into Yuuki's face, and the second as he falls back and his head slams into the ground. The ball bounces away as the gym goes silent. Yuuki doesn't get up.
"Mishima-kun!" someone shouts from the bench where Akari and Ann are sitting.
"Are you okay, Mishima?" one of the boys on the students' side of the court shouts.
Kamoshida lifts the net to run across to the other side of the court. In the perfect image of a proper coach, he crouches by Yuuki and gently lifts him off the ground. "Someone get him to the nurse's office!" he shouts.
Kamoshida pulls Yuuki to his feet. It's a slow process that results in Yuuki staggering back, one hand pressed to his head with his face several shades paler than it was just moments ago. The same girl who had called out to him before whispers to the girl sitting next to her. A boy with bleached blonde hair, slouched against the wall, glowers at the scene before him. Ann twirls one of her pigtails and mutters under her breath, "Asshole."
Akari raises her hand, and has to fight against every instinct telling her not to get involved. She's not really getting involved — all she's doing is taking a student to the infirmary. This is something that will help, but also won't be twisted against her later. She glances at the other teachers on the court, and there is no disdain evident in their expressions.
"You'll be all right, Mishima," Kamoshida says as he slaps Yuuki on the back, pushing him towards Akari. "Thanks for doing this, Kurusu-chan."
There he goes again with "-chan", Akari tries not to think too hard on, as she swallows and nods. She drapes one of Yuuki's arms around her shoulder and wraps her arm around his waist, as they head for the gym's exit. No one really looks at her on their way out: they look at Yuuki — most with pity.
It's… quiet, outside the gym. It's nice. It makes it easier to breathe, even with Yuuki leaning so heavily into her that it's a struggle to remain completely upright. Nobody's eyes are on her — not even Yuuki's — and it's enough to not worry, even though, soon enough, this moment is going to end.
"Um…" Yuuki mumbles. "K-Kurusu-san…" His face is utterly pale, and he presses his free hand to his mouth as he suddenly swallows hard. "I need to…" He jerks forward suddenly, squeezing his eyes shut. Moments later, Akari finds herself standing outside the boys' bathroom, while aggressively ignoring the horrible sounds coming from inside and praying that no teachers see her and think that she's deliberately ditching a school event.
None of her prayers work. Kawakami chooses that moment to walk down the hall, a mess of folders and papers nearly spilling out of her arms. "Kurusu-san?" she says, frowning. "What are you doing here? Why aren't you at the volleyball rally?"
It's such a simple answer. Technically, a teacher told her to do this — and yet, Akari's throat goes dry, and her mind goes blank as she struggles to find words to explain the situation. Then, Yuuki lets out a horrible retch, and it's terrible of her but she sighs in relief because that's enough of an explanation in and of itself.
Kawakami's expression softens. "Oh," she says. She kicks the bathroom door in lieu of knocking and calls out, "Hey, are you okay in there?"
"Um…" Akari says slowly. She takes a deep breath, and prays that Kawakami will believe her. "Mishima-kun hit his head. I mean, the ball hit his head, and then he hit his head again, and now he's…"
"Oh, I see," Kawakami says. "Sit tight for a minute, okay? I'm going to bring the nurse over." She dumps the stack of papers and folders on the floor next to the bathroom door, and then power-walks down the hall. Akari sighs, and slumps to the floor against the wall, stretching her legs out in front of her.
Then the toilet flushes inside and the sink runs, and Yuuki emerges from the bathroom with one hand wrapped around his stomach, his face frighteningly pale. "I'm okay now, Kurusu-san," he says with obvious difficulty. "We can go back."
Akari frowns. "Sorry, but… weren't you just getting sick a minute ago?"
He gives her a hollow smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. "It looks worse than it actually is," he replies.
"But you're—"
"Ah, Mishima-kun," Kawakami says, striding over with an older woman not too far behind her.
The nurse — Ms. Kagari, Haru had told Akari earlier — takes one look at Yuuki before turning to Kawakami and saying, bluntly, "He's fine."
"See?" Yuuki says to Akari.
"Come on, Kagari-san…" Kawakami sighs. "I heard him getting sick not too long ago. He's clearly not doing well."
"Must be anxiety," Kagari says dryly. "If you want to take a nap before afternoon practice, Mishima-kun, you're more than welcome."
"Kurusu-san said he hit his head twice," says Kawakami.
"And you believed her?" Kagari shoots back. "Come now, Kawakami-san."
Akari's breath hitches in her throat, and she backs up to the wall. Yuuki doesn't know — he can't know — but if Kagari says any more, then he'll—
"She has no reason to lie about something like this," Kawakami says firmly, her eyes narrowing. "Are you saying you know my own student better than I do?" She sighs, and then rubs the back of her neck. "You know what? I'll… take care of them. Thank you, Kagari-san." The nurse shrugs, and walks back down the hall without another word. "Thanks for staying with Mishima-kun, Kurusu-san," Kawakami says. "You can go back now. I'll take care of it from here."
Unable to find her voice, Akari nods and leaves for the gym. It isn't until she's halfway there that she realizes that she never told Yuuki that she hopes that he feels better soon, or thanked Kawakami for believing her.
On Friday, a student jumps from the school rooftop. Not just any student — Shiho Suzui. While the rest of the students clamor out of their seats, while Mr. Ushimaru shouts over everyone to stay sitting and keep calm, Akari stays right where she is, frozen and unable to move.
Underneath the concern and fear, there's the fact that Akari had known her, for however brief a time. She was someone who was kind to Akari, despite not having known her until less than a week ago — a familiar face in the school hallways while the rest of the students were content to ignore their existence.
And now, she's gone — or she could be, so long as she didn't fail at what she set out to do that morning.
(Here is the truth of what happens: Shiho Suzui jumps from the school rooftop, and suddenly all those who wouldn't have given her a second glance, had they seen her in the school hallways, are quick to offer their own theories about what pushed her to that point. Maybe her home life was terrible. Maybe that one senpai on the volleyball team had rejected her. Maybe she failed an exam, even though the first week of school wasn't even over yet. Maybe, one of the more sinister students suggested, she's just doing it for the attention.
Either way, she falls to the ground from three floors up, her legs bent at unnatural angles as she lies there, in pain but conscious. Everyone whips out their phones and takes pictures and videos. Teachers struggle to retain control, as they shout at the students to stay in some semblance of order. Only Ann actually goes to help, pushing past the crowds to her best friend and waiting with her as sirens blare in the distance.
Sometime, before Shiho is carried away on a stretcher, she whispers Kamoshida's name into Ann's ear.)
It's Kamoshida that finds her. Of course it's Kamoshida. It could be minutes later, or hours, but no one has come searching for her yet, and she hasn't seen or heard any students filtering back into the classrooms.
Except Kamoshida is here, his face sculpted into the perfect image of concern. It makes her skin crawl, though it shouldn't — he hasn't done anything to hurt her, so far. "Kurusu-chan?" she hears him say through the white noise. "Are you okay?"
There it is again. Kurusu-chan. Not Kurusu-san, like Kawakami calls her, or just Kurusu like the principal does. It doesn't sound right, when he says it. It makes her wish she'd refused his offer for a ride on the first day of school, if it would have meant avoiding this uncomfortable familiarity.
Kamoshida takes her hand and pulls her to her feet so quickly that pain briefly tugs at her shoulder. "Why don't you come into my office for a bit?" he suggests, and it should feel normal because it is normal for teachers to do things like this.
It doesn't occur to her until after she's seated comfortably across from him at his desk that this could really just be normal. She must not look quite all right after seeing something so horrible, and he might just be trying to offer whatever comfort teachers can. It's normal. If it had been Kawakami instead, she wouldn't have been so worried.
Kamoshida rubs the back of his neck and looks down. "I'm sorry you had to see something like that so soon after you transferred…" he says. It must be even harder on him, Akari concludes, because he ultimately knew Shiho better than she did. Shiho was someone he personally worked with, someone he had seen grow. How nice of him, to go out of his way to comfort her when he's already dealing with so much. "You'll say something, won't you Kurusu-chan? If you're ever going through something like that…"
Akari doesn't answer — how can she? The last time she said something, nobody believed her.
Kamoshida stands up, the legs of his chair scraping loudly against the tile floor, and makes his way around her. He puts his large hands on her shoulders and squeezes — and that's definitely not something she's ever seen a teacher do before. "There's a counselor affiliated with the school," he says as his thumbs press circles into her back. "I really do think it would be a good idea to talk to her." He squeezes just a bit too hard, and Akari hikes up her shoulders ever so slightly. "There was one student whose parents went through a nasty divorce. We told him it would be a good idea to talk to her, but he wouldn't have any of it. Now…" He chuckles, and removes one of his hands. "Well… that's another story."
He… shouldn't be talking to her about another student like this. Maybe, he'd tell her story to someone else — every last bit of it, even the part that Kawakami swore would be kept secret. She turns around, and—
—she really, really shouldn't have looked. She shouldn't have looked, because then she wouldn't have had to see a teacher she should have been able to trust with one hand down his track pants. There's really only one reason for his hand to be there, and it makes her blood run cold.
("Wow, that transfer student's really buddy-buddy with Mr. Kamoshida, isn't she?" Akari had overheard a student whispering in the halls some time ago. "I thought Takamaki was his girl!"
"Maybe they have one of those kinds of relationships," another said. "Gross, don't you think?"
"White trash and… someone from the boonies?" a third asked, confused. "That doesn't even make any sense! That transfer student isn't even that hot! Takamaki, though…")
Everything falls into place with sickening clarity: Kamoshida was never truly nice to her — not in the way she wanted him, and every other teacher in the school, to be. Every compliment, ever gesture of goodwill and support, was all to achieve one and, and that end was Akari herself — just like it had been Ann before, or maybe still was.
Akari clamors out of the seat, springing away from Kamoshida and maybe, reflexively, slapping away the hand that's still on her shoulder. In an instant, all of the kindness and sympathy he'd been so generous with is gone, as he slowly draws his hand out into the open. The skin under her uniform, where he'd touched her shoulders, tingles. She presses a shaking hand to her mouth and wills herself not to scream.
"What's the problem?" Kamoshida asks. The answer should be nothing — and yet she was very much not hallucinating when she saw what he was doing, where his hand was.
"Y-You're a teacher…" she whispers. It comes out muffled, through the hand over her mouth.
Kamoshida gives her a crooked smile, and tilts his head to the side. "Well… yeah. That's the idea."
Teachers shouldn't do things like that, she wants to say, but the words won't come out. I trusted you would make for a decent alternative, but it would be a lie because she can't recall a single moment in her five days of knowing him when she ever completely trusted him.
"Hey…" Kamoshida says, stepping towards her with that same lopsided grin. He lays his hand on her shoulder again, and it burns.
"Don't touch me!" She slaps his hand away again, and this, at least, is intentional.
Kamoshida flinches, and looks down at his hand. In an instant, all gentleness is gone from his expression. "You little bitch."
Akari takes one step towards the door. Kamoshida glowers at her, but does not try to close the distance between them. She really shouldn't have come here; she really shouldn't have let him bring her here.
Akari runs, even though Kamoshida is bigger and faster and will probably catch her anyway. It's useless — he'll catch her, and she'll have to go to juvie hall for doing this to a teacher — even if twas the teacher's fault—
—she doesn't look back, and she doesn't stop running until the train doors have slid shut behind her. This should be a victory in and of itself: this is the first time since she came to Tokyo that she hasn't been afraid, when getting on the train. And yet, the truth is that whatever Kamoshida was trying to do to her is a hundred times worse than what the train has already done.
Akari sinks into an empty seat, hugging her bag to her chest and curling into herself, and waits listlessly for her station.
(Moments later, Kamoshida calls Yuuki Mishima into his office. "Sit down," he says with a scowl on his face, and has to resist the urge to snap at him when he takes too long.
That's right — Mishima had been friendly with Suzui, hadn't he? Of course he'd be shaken up — but nationals will not wait for them, nor will the school, and it's only a matter of time until Suzui talks.
"Tell me," says Kamoshida. "You're in the same class as the new transfer student, right? What do you think of her?"
"Kurusu-san…?" Mishima asks so slowly and listlessly, Kamoshida has to resist the urge to smash his face in. "She's… nice, I guess. I don't know her that well. Why?"
Kamoshida smiles, and ignores the way Mishima doesn't bother to hide his shudder. "Oh, you'll never guess what I heard about her.)