Prologue
Hana Akemi
October 18, 2004
Classroom 3-A was never a happy place for me. I walked through the same doors every day, down the same hallway, and sat in the same seat — the last chair in the back row. It was "given" to me, a place that nobody else wanted. Or maybe it was chosen, from the very start, to keep me distant.
That became clear in the first few days.
"You'll form groups of whatever." I barely remember the teachers saying that now and then, but…
They formed their groups. I didn't. Around me was a void of empty chairs, as I didn't even belong in the classroom.
This is torture.
Pushed by my Aunt, that took care of me, I tried to socialize — or, better said, I tried to integrate with them. I smiled. I tried to make myself visible enough to being noticed. Nothing worked.
Is there something wrong with me?
"You're in my seat, Hana."
The voice was familiar, just like the sensation of being mocked. Nobody wanted to sit near me, yet they always sounded as if I was bothering them anyway.
Can't I have peace here? Can't you just pretend I don't exist?
Soon, everyone was leaving for lunch, and I was finally alone. Or so I thought. Their laughter echoed behind me, that same laughter, same expressions.
When I didn't answer, someone grabbed my notebook. He was taller than me. I reached for it, but another hand shoved my shoulder.
"Why don't you just stay home? You're hopeless. A waste of space. You ruin the mood for everyone."
There it was the same phrase I heard every day. But that day was different.
Maybe it was because of the rain outside. The sound of raindrops against the roof was louder than their voices, louder than the insults.
Or maybe… it was because I wasn't afraid anymore.
They had already broken me.
They took my energy.
They took everything.
For the first time, I felt so empty that I wanted to fight back. A thought anchored itself in my mind:
I won't accept this anymore. Nobody will ever laugh at me again.
No matter how.
But my violent thoughts were interrupted. They laughed harder and pushed me again. I remember the teacher's scream, sharp and sudden, from the front of the room.
That's when I felt it — the water on the floor. A puddle. Someone had spilled it there, and my foot slid.
The world vanished beneath me.
I reached out for something, anything to hold onto, but everything spun too fast. It was just supposed to be a prank.
But kids… kids are far too fragile.
When my head hit the floor, I heard them laughing. Then silence. And finally… panic.
"Hana…?" someone whispered. But I couldn't answer. I never did.
Time passed. I can't describe how much. When I opened my eyes, I was still there… but I wasn't.
The classroom was dark, long abandoned. Night had fallen. I saw it all — the dried puddle of blood, the overturned chairs, the silence.
They closed the room for investigation. Locked the doors, stacked the chairs, and threw away the desks.
Soon enough, they erased everything.
My name from the records.
My face from the photos.
My place in the world.
But they forgot one thing.
I'm still here.
The last chair in the back row was never replaced. It was never used again.
Until now.