I gave myself a shake and returned to the classroom—only to freeze in place, gasping in horror.
The classroom was in complete disarray: desks overturned, books and pens scattered across the floor. In the center of it all, Akira was surrounded by Misaki Suzuki and her gang. The atmosphere was charged with malice.
One of the girls suddenly raised a ruler and, without hesitation, smashed it across Akira's face.
The moment it struck, time seemed to stop. His skin split open instantly, and a deep, blood-red gash bloomed across his cheek. Blood gushed out like a broken pipe, staining the pale skin of his face in seconds.
Misaki's laugh echoed through the room—shrill and triumphant. Her eyes glinted with cruel delight as she clapped her hands. "Hahaha! Nice one, Chizuru! I'll treat you to something tasty later!"
Her voice rang like a warped celebration. She always enjoyed this—stepping on others to feel powerful. And even when caught, she could always deny it. She never laid a hand on anyone herself.
My whole body trembled as I watched blood streak down Akira's cheek. Fury boiled in my chest—I wanted to tear Misaki apart, to make her pay. But I couldn't. I was just a ghost.
Akira calmly wiped the blood from his face. His movements were slow, deliberate.
Then, he lifted his gaze—and locked eyes with Chizuru.
"Chi... zuru." His voice was low and raspy, dragging her name out like a blade from a sheath—cold, sharp, and filled with menace.
Chizuru grinned smugly, swaggering up to him. She jabbed his nose with her finger, mocking him with every word. "Oh? You mad? You gonna hit me back? Go on, do it! Hahahahaha!"
His face was half-hidden beneath his bangs, masking his expression from the others. But I could see it—see the gleam in his eyes. Cold. Calculating. Dangerous. A storm brewing beneath still waters.
They hadn't planned to stop. Misaki's gang was ready to continue humiliating him.
But the bell rang—sharp and abrupt, like a siren.
Misaki clicked her tongue in annoyance. Chizuru, catching the cue, grabbed Akira's milk carton off his desk. She took a mocking sip, then poured the rest all over his desk—soaking my homework in the process.
Akira didn't react. He just stared straight ahead, his face unreadable.
Chizuru rolled her eyes and sauntered back to her seat.
At that moment, the teacher walked in. He looked at the mess, clearly used to this sort of thing. He simply sighed and asked Akira to clean it up.
Akira stood up smoothly. "Sensei, I spilled my milk. May I go grab some tissues from the restroom?"
The teacher noticed the gash on his face, and though clearly troubled, nodded without question.
A deep unease stirred in me. Akira volunteering to clean up someone else's mess? That was never a good sign. I quickly followed him.
In the bathroom, he grabbed a few tissues, scanned the room—and spotted an open window.
Without hesitation, he rolled the tissues up, slipped them into his hand, and left.
But instead of heading back, he looped around to the same window from the outside—and climbed back in.
He picked up a discarded metal pipe and rolled it in his hands, then casually leaned against the wall… waiting.
The scene unsettled me deeply. That face looked like mine—but the behavior was terrifyingly unfamiliar.
I paced around the bathroom, anxious and confused. What was Akira planning?
Soon, footsteps echoed outside. A girl pushed open the door.
It was Chizuru—pale and clutching her stomach.
Without warning—BANG!
Akira sprang from the shadows.
It was as if he had known she'd come.
In one swift motion, he grabbed a fistful of her hair and slammed her into the wall. His other hand raised the pipe—and brought it down on her with brutal force.
The blows rained down on her back, arms, ribs—again and again. Chizuru screamed in agony.
She tried to fight back, but Akira was too strong. He clamped a hand over her mouth, silencing her. She bit him—but he only flinched, then looked at the bloody mark she left with disgust.
Without a word, he slammed her head into the floor—then forced the metal pipe into her mouth.
She writhed, her face contorted in agony. Muffled cries escaped her as the pipe tore its way into her throat. Her eyes rolled back. Her body, overwhelmed by pain and nausea, began to convulse.
And then… she stopped moving.
Akira sighed—almost disappointed. He shoved the pipe aside and calmly stripped off his bloodstained clothes.
He washed them, blow-dried them, sprayed on cologne, and changed—meticulously clean, like someone finishing afternoon tea.
Not once did he look back at the body.
He climbed out the window and left.
Later, he returned to the cafeteria, bought lunch, and strolled back into class.
"Sorry I'm late, Sensei," he said sweetly, voice soft and polite.
The teacher glanced at his tray and waved him to his seat.
Akira sat down, calmly eating his food like nothing had happened. His expression was peaceful—almost pleased.
The bell rang.
And that's when people started to notice—Chizuru had been gone all period.
"Where's Chizuru?" Misaki asked, unease flickering in her voice.
"I'll check the restroom," Mai offered quickly.
"Thanks, Mai," Misaki said, forcing a smile.
As Mai neared the bathroom, a girl from another class burst out, pale as a sheet.
"Aaaaah! Someone's dead in there!"
Mai froze. Misaki gasped, then ran down the hall.
Students flooded toward the restroom. When the door opened—
There was Chizuru's body.
Silence turned to screaming. Some girls fainted on the spot. The air reeked of blood and rot. Horror clung to every breath.
The chaos escalated fast. The principal arrived within minutes, his face grim.
Akira trailed after the crowd, playing the curious bystander. His eyes remained calm, unreadable.
That's when Mai pointed at him, trembling.
"Kawashima Megumi! It was you! You were the only one with Chizuru!"
Akira's eyes widened—pure surprise. "Me?"
The students burst into laughter.
"You're kidding, right?" someone said. "You think Megumi did that to Chizuru?"
The sarcasm was thick—no one believed her.
Mai turned ghost-white. "I… I… then who…?"
"I don't know," Akira said with a faint smile. "But it wasn't me. Anyway, I'll be going now."
He walked away.
The others began dispersing.
"Let's go. One dead person, big deal."
"Maybe they'll cancel school. Sweet!"
"I'm out. I'm not getting framed."
I watched all of this, numb with disbelief. How could everyone be so heartless?
The principal scowled. "Pull the hallway security footage," he said to his assistant. His voice was heavy. This had become a serious matter.
Soon, the girl's bathroom was sealed with police tape.