Pov : Minamikata Miwa
Class 2-B always had a distinct scent: a mix of expensive perfume, lingering lunch smells, and a tension hidden behind loud laughter. This was where the social ecosystem of Meiwa High reached its peak. And at the top of that food chain stood Shirayuki Madoka.
I, Minamikata Miwa, sat in my seat, forcing a smile until my cheeks felt stiff. In front of me, Madoka was flipping her shiny grey hair, while Haruna-san was lost in her own world of weird fantasies.
"Minami, are you even listening?" Madoka's voice broke my daydream. Her tone was sharp, like the tip of a pair of scissors ready to cut anything that strayed from its path.
"E-eh? Yeah, I'm listening! Sorry, Madoka, I was just spacing out for a bit," I replied quickly, complete with the small laugh I'd practiced a thousand times in front of the mirror.
"We're going to that new cafe in front of the station after school. They have a limited pancake menu. You're coming, right?" Madoka wasn't asking; she was giving an instruction.
I glanced at the notes in my book. This afternoon, I actually wanted to visit the pet shop to buy new treats for Poopy, my beloved dog. I'd promised myself that since yesterday.
"Ah... this afternoon? Actually, I have something to do for a bit, maybe I can—"
Instantly, the atmosphere around our table shifted. Haruna-san's laughter died down, and Kazuya-kun, sitting not far from us, stole a glance with an unreadable expression. Madoka narrowed her eyes. Just a fraction, but it was enough to make my heart race with fear.
"Something to do? What could be more important than hanging out with us?" Madoka crossed her arms. "You've been acting weird lately, Minami. Like you're not into it. Are you bored of us?"
It's not that, Madoka. I just want some time for myself. The words stayed stuck at the tip of my tongue. I could feel the eyes of the entire class starting to drift toward us. In this room, "disharmony" was the most entertaining yet most feared spectacle.
"No, not at all! How could I be bored!" I denied it with a pitch that was slightly too high. "It's just... I feel like we've been eating too many sweets lately. Maybe once in a while we could... I mean, what if we went to the library or something?"
Silence.
The silence felt like a vacuum sucking all the oxygen out of the room. Haruna-san cleared her throat softly. Madoka looked at me as if I'd just spoken in a foul, foreign language.
"The library?" Madoka laughed, but her eyes remained cold. "Minami, since when did you become so diligent? Don't tell me you're trying to be like that 'pathetic loner' in the corner?"
She pointed toward the back of the class, where Nakamura-kun sat alone, drowned in his silent world. Nakamura-kun didn't react, as if he was already used to being an invisible object of mockery.
"It's not that... I just feel sick if I keep eating sugar," I whispered. My courage was evaporating. I could feel the "mood" of the class pressing down on me, forcing me back into the box they had provided.
"If you don't want to come, fine," Madoka looked away, her voice now flat and indifferent—the most effective way to punish someone in our group. The silent treatment. "We'll just go together, Haruna."
"Eh, but Madoka..." Haruna-san tried to mediate, but Madoka had already pulled out her phone, ignoring me completely.
It hurt. It felt like being suddenly thrown into outer space without a protective suit. I saw my other classmates starting to whisper. I knew what they were thinking. 'Minami messed up.' 'Minami ruined the mood.' 'Is Minami about to be kicked out?'
I looked down, staring at my clean school shoes. In the middle of the crowded Class 2-B, I felt truly alone. I was tired. Tired of always second-guessing other people's moods. Tired of being "Cheerful Minami" just to be accepted.
Suddenly, my eyes caught the classroom door, slightly ajar. I remembered the rumors about a room in the old building, a place where people go when they don't know what to do anymore. The Special Service Division, I think?
Without a second thought, I grabbed my school bag.
"M-Madoka, I'm leaving first!" I called out without daring to look at her reaction.
I ran down the corridor, away from the fake laughter and judgmental stares. My heart was racing—not from running, but because this was the first time I dared to cut the thread that bound me to that "mood."
Every step I took away from Class 2-B felt like a betrayal, yet also a liberation. I didn't know what awaited me in that room. I didn't know if the cold Kurokawa Reina would kick me out, or if Nakamura Izumi would mock me.
But I knew one thing: I'd rather be hated for being myself than loved for being someone else.
I reached the old wooden door. My hand trembled as I touched the handle. I took a deep breath, trying to gather the scraps of courage scattered back in the hallway.
Please... let this be a place where I don't have to smile if my heart is crying.
And with one gentle push, I stepped inside, starting the first crack in the mask I had worn for far too long.