Special School Assembly
Miyuki’s PoV
I had a dream.
In my dream, Eiji and I were on the school rooftop. I kept calling out to him, but he ignored me, as if he couldn’t see me. Slowly, he leaned forward, toward the edge of the rooftop.
“Stop it, Eiji. I’m sorry. I’ll apologize, so please don’t do anything reckless. It’s not you who should die—it’s me. No, no, I don’t want to lose you. Why are you blaming yourself when it’s my fault? Don’t leave me alone, please. If you leave, I’ll be all alone.”
My desperate cries didn’t reach him.
With a pale face, he stared at me for a few seconds. Then, in the next moment, he fell through the air. His anguished expression seemed to say:
“You are the reason I had to die.”
There was a dull thud. The ground turned red.
I heard something inside me shatter.
“This is a dream.”
I woke up in a cold sweat. My body felt heavy as I walked to school. I couldn’t bring myself to eat.
Eiji could have died. The weight of my sins could have driven him to that point. The fear consumed me.
When I arrived at school, I didn’t speak to anyone. I sat at my desk, staring blankly, waiting for the first period to begin.
How much easier it would be if I just collapsed from anemia. I wanted to disappear.
“Listen up, everyone. There will be an emergency school assembly. Please gather in the gym.”
Takayanagi-sensei’s voice felt distant. I moved towards the gym like a lifeless puppet. People around me whispered that I shouldn’t push myself so hard. I didn’t deserve their kindness. I wished they’d just ignore me.
If Eiji had yelled at me, cursed me, or even hit me, it might have felt easier to bear. But instead, he had said, “The opposite of love is indifference.” He had shown me that cold indifference through his actions.
I understood why it had to be this way, but that didn’t stop the sharp pain in my chest.
At the assembly, I fought back tears several times.
[I’ve asked you all to gather here today to discuss two important matters.]
The principal’s expression was stern, his voice serious.
Normally, he’d start with a long-winded speech, but today, he was direct.
[There are two announcements: one bad, one good. Let’s start with the bad news. The police have informed us that there is a strong possibility one of our students was involved in an assault in a neighboring town during summer vacation. The investigation is ongoing, and while the police haven’t confirmed whether the suspect is indeed from our school, we cannot ignore this. If you have any information, report it to your homeroom teacher by noon. Do not lie. We will find out. Consider this an ultimatum.]
My stomach tightened painfully. Was it Kondo-senpai? Eiji? Were they finally uncovering everything? My pulse quickened. The air in the gym became thick with tension.
“Hey, isn’t this about Aono Eiji? The rumors on SNS?”
“You mean the one about him being violent with Amada-san?”
“Looks like the police are finally stepping in.”
No. That’s not what happened. It’s not Eiji’s fault—it’s mine.
Guilt clawed at me, and just as I felt like I might collapse, the principal brightened his tone and continued.
[Now, for the good news. On Saturday, two days ago, Aono Eiji, a second-year, and Ichijo Ai, a first-year, performed a heroic act. They saved the life of an elderly man who had collapsed on the street. Thanks to their quick thinking and actions, the man was rushed to the hospital and survived. The fire department will present them with certificates of commendation. As principal, I am immensely proud of their bravery. I hope all of you will look to them as examples and carry that same spirit of kindness. Now, let’s give them both a big round of applause.]
“Wait, Aono Eiji helped someone? But what about the violence rumors?”
“If those rumors were true, would the fire department really be giving him a certificate?”
“Exactly. There’s no way they’d praise him if he were guilty.”
“Then… someone must be lying!”
A sharp, icy fear gripped me. My vision blurred from exhaustion and hunger. The sound of applause faded, and the gym’s ceiling swayed above me.
Then everything went black.