CHAPTER XXII
-Out of Line-
Kaito nodded, taking the box and moving down the line, while the teacher shot Yuzuki one last glare before turning away, leaving her standing alone, the humiliation still raw and stinging.When it was Sayaka’s turn at the end of the line, she snatched up two flutes from the box, her voice ringing out with forced cheer. “I’ll give one to Yuzuki since she’ll be standing next to me!” she announced, flashing a sly grin at the others.
Kaito hesitated, his eyes narrowing slightly as he glanced back at the teacher, who was still glaring from the front of the room. Under that watchful stare, Kaito quickly nodded, not wanting to draw any more attention. He placed the now-empty box beneath the piano and hurried back to his spot.
The teacher’s voice snapped through the air, sharp and impatient. “What are you standing there for? Go to your line!”
Yuzuki jolted and scrambled to her place, her heart pounding as she tried to melt into the row, the weight of every stare pressing down on her shoulders.
Sayaka pressed the flute into Yuzuki’s hand, her smile a little too bright. As Yuzuki took it, she immediately noticed something off—the mouthpiece felt sticky, and there was a faint, sour smell clinging to the instrument. Her stomach twisted with unease, but Sayaka was already turning away, joining the others as they prepared for practice.
The music teacher clapped his hands, commanding attention. “Everyone, flutes up! On my count—one, two, three!”
A chorus of breathy notes filled the room as students began to play. Yuzuki, standing beside Sayaka, hesitated. The flute felt wrong, almost tainted, and a prickling sense of dread crawled up her spine. She remembered too well how quickly things could spiral out of control—how easily one careless action could pull her into another ordeal.
So, as the melody rose around her, Yuzuki brought the flute to her lips but didn’t blow. Instead, she mimicked the motions, opening and closing the holes with practiced fingers, her posture perfect. To anyone watching, she looked like she was playing along, but her breath never touched the instrument.
She kept her eyes down, focusing on the teacher’s baton, on the shifting light, on anything except the eyes she could feel watching her—waiting for her to stumble again. The music swelled, and Yuzuki stayed silent, clinging to the hope that if she just pretended well enough, she could avoid being dragged into another disaster.
As the music practice continued, the room was filled with the sound of flutes and the teacher’s guiding instructions. Students stood in neat rows on the terraced risers, each group facing the conductor’s podium. Yuzuki, still rattled from earlier, focused on pretending to play, fingers moving silently over the holes.
Everyone seemed to notice how well Yuzuki was “playing,” her posture perfect, her movements fluid. But behind her, a girl stood on the same riser, eyes narrowed with quiet malice. She glanced at the teacher, confirming he was busy correcting the boys on the opposite podium, his back turned to the girls.
In a swift, calculated motion, the girl pressed her hand against Yuzuki’s back and shoved.
Yuzuki’s balance vanished. The world tilted, and she tumbled off the podium, her arms flailing as her flute clattered to the floor. The music screeched to a halt. Gasps and shocked whispers rippled through the room—some students stared wide-eyed, others burst into laughter or snickers, the sound sharp and cruel.
Yuzuki lay sprawled on the floor, pain radiating through her knee and elbow. As she pushed herself up, her eyes darted to the group above. The girl who’d pushed her quickly stepped back into the line, feigning innocence, but Yuzuki caught the flicker of a smirk before she melted into the crowd.
The teacher spun around at the commotion, his face darkening with anger. “What are you doing now? Can’t you stand properly? This is a music class, not a circus!” His voice thundered through the room, drowning out any protest Yuzuki might have tried to make.
Yuzuki felt the sting in her knee and elbow, but this time, something inside her refused to shrink away. She pushed herself up, back straight, and met the teacher’s furious glare with a steady, unflinching gaze. The room was silent, every eye fixed on her.
With a calm, clear voice, she spoke—her words slicing through the tension like a blade.
“Sensei, I will not apologize for something I didn’t do. I was pushed from behind, and it caused me to fall. I believe it’s important to address this behavior, not just for me but for everyone here.”
A ripple of surprise moved through the class. Yuzuki’s tone was respectful but unwavering, her expression resolute.
“As our teacher, you should be encouraging us to speak up and to express ourselves more openly, and give us a chance to clarify misunderstandings—not tearing us down with your raised voice.”
She paused, letting the silence settle, her classmates’ faces a mix of shock and curiosity.
“I hope you can create an environment where everyone feels safe to speak up to you, otherwise they will live with this life-long etched accusation when clearly you’re their cause of breakdown.”
The room held its breath, the weight of Yuzuki’s words echoing in the stillness. For the first time, the teacher’s anger seemed to falter, replaced by a flicker of uncertainty. And for a moment, Yuzuki stood taller than anyone in the room, her voice and courage impossible to ignore.
Yuzuki, jaw clenched and body aching, made her way back to her place on the riser. She shot a cold, pointed glare at the girl who’d shoved her, refusing to let the humiliation win. Straightening her back, she gripped her flute, determined to stand her ground.
But the teacher’s face was twisted with rage—his authority, in his eyes, challenged in front of the entire class. Without warning, he stormed over, his footsteps thunderous on the wooden floor. Before Yuzuki could react, his hand clamped around her arm, his grip bruising.
“Enough!” he barked, yanking her down from the podium. The room fell into stunned silence, students shrinking away as he dragged her across the floor. Yuzuki stumbled, her injured knee screaming in protest.
“Sensei, please—wait, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean—let me explain—” she pleaded, trying to pull back, but his grip only tightened.
“Quiet!” he roared, his voice echoing down the hallway as he hauled her through the door. “You want to cause trouble? You want to embarrass me? We’ll see what the headmaster has to say about this!”
Yuzuki’s protests were swallowed by his furious shouts, her feet barely keeping up as he dragged her down the corridor. The last thing she saw before the door swung shut was the sea of shocked, frightened faces—some wide-eyed, some smirking, all watching as she was pulled away, her voice drowned out and powerless against the teacher’s wrath.
As Yuzuki was dragged through the door, her arm aching in the teacher’s iron grip, a voice rang out from behind—clear, urgent, and desperate.
“Sensei! Please, wait!” It was Kaito, the class prefect, breaking through the stunned silence of the music room. He hurried after them, his footsteps echoing in the hallway. “Sensei, please! I know Yuzuki was out of line, but this isn’t right! You can’t just—”
The teacher didn’t even slow down, his jaw clenched, eyes fixed straight ahead. “Stay out of this, kid. This is none of your concern!”
But Kaito refused to fall back. “It is my concern! I’m the class prefect—I’m supposed to look out for everyone! Please, Sensei, let’s just talk—Yuzuki’s hurt, and—”
The teacher spun on him, his face red with fury. “Enough! If you don’t want to be next, get back to class!”
Kaito hesitated, torn between fear and responsibility. He glanced at Yuzuki, saw the pain and panic in her eyes, and took a shaky breath. “Sensei, please. She’s not lying. Someone pushed her. I saw—”
But the teacher cut him off with a barked, “Not another word!” and yanked Yuzuki forward, nearly pulling her off her feet.
Kaito’s voice followed them down the corridor, growing smaller but no less determined. “Please, Sensei! You can’t just drag her away like this! At least let her explain! Please!”
But the teacher’s anger was a wall, impenetrable, and Yuzuki was swept along, her only ally’s voice fading behind her as the heavy door to the headmaster’s office loomed ahead.
As they hurried down the long, echoing corridor, the teacher’s grip on Yuzuki’s arm was iron-tight, his face flushed with rage. Kaito followed close behind, still pleading, “Sensei, please! This isn’t right! Let her go—she’s hurt!” His voice bounced off the cold tile and painted walls, but the teacher ignored him, dragging Yuzuki faster.
Suddenly, the teacher’s foot caught on something invisible stretched across the hallway. He lurched forward, losing all balance, and crashed to the floor with a heavy, echoing thud. Yuzuki staggered but managed to stay upright—she’d seen it: the faint, glimmering thread held taut by a cluster of Korobokkuru at the edge of the corridor, their tiny forms half-hidden behind a row of lockers.
But the teacher’s hand was still locked around her wrist, threatening to pull her down with him. Before she could react, Kaito darted forward, wedging himself between them. With a determined twist, he pried the teacher’s fingers from Yuzuki’s arm and yanked her free.
“Come on!” Kaito urged, grabbing Yuzuki’s hand and sprinting down the corridor. Yuzuki’s legs screamed in protest, her knee throbbing from the earlier fall, but adrenaline pushed her forward. Behind them, the teacher’s furious shouts echoed: “Stop! Get back here! Both of you—stop right now!”
But Kaito didn’t slow, dragging Yuzuki around the corner, away from the teacher’s reach. As they ran, Yuzuki glanced up and caught a glimpse that made her blood run cold: crawling along the ceiling, just behind the fluorescent lights, was Akarui.
Its body was a grotesque parody of human form—long, emaciated torso stretched unnaturally tall, no legs, only trailing tendrils of smoky ash that drifted behind like the tattered hem of a burned kimono. Its arms were impossibly long, fingers ending in twitching, claw-like points, as if itching to snatch someone from below. The skin, where visible, looked like scorched paper—cracked and blackened, flaking as if it had burned for centuries. And its face—if it could be called that—was hidden behind a twisted, white noh mask, the painted red smile sharp and cruel.
Akarui floated silently, eyes fixed on the fleeing students, its monstrous form gliding along the ceiling in pursuit, a silent omen that the ordeal was far from over.
Yuzuki’s breath came in ragged bursts as Kaito pulled her down the corridor, his grip steady and determined. She glanced up, catching another glimpse of Akarui’s grotesque form gliding silently along the ceiling, its mask’s twisted smile fixed on them.
A question burned on her tongue—What is that thing?—but as she looked at Kaito’s anxious face, a cold realization struck her. If she asked, if she even hinted that she could see what no one else could, Kaito would know. He’d realize she could see supernaturals. And she knew all too well what happened to people like her being sacrificed like yesterday.
Yuzuki bit her lip, swallowing the question. She forced her gaze forward, pretending not to notice the horror crawling above them, her heart pounding with a new, sharper fear: the terror of being found out.
They finally reached the ground floor, the air feeling heavier as they neared the infirmary. Kaito slid open the door with a quick push, his breaths ragged from the sprint. Inside, the nurse looked up just as Yuzuki stumbled forward, revealing the scraped, bleeding skin on her knee and elbows.
Without hesitation, the nurse sprang into action, grabbing antiseptic and bandages. Kaito turned sharply to Yuzuki, gripping her arms firmly just below the shoulders. His eyes were intense as he said, “Stay here. Don’t come out until I get back. Rest and take care.”
Yuzuki’s heart raced, a mix of relief and panic flooding her chest. She nodded quickly, clearly freaked out but trusting him. As Kaito dashed toward the door, she barely managed to whisper, “Thank you…”
He paused, glanced back with a reassuring smile that eased some of her tension, then vanished down the hallway, leaving her in the quiet care of the nurse.
The nurse finished taping the last bandage and was about to tidy up when she paused, a look of recognition dawning on her face. She turned back to Yuzuki, eyebrows raised in mild surprise.
“Wait a minute…” the nurse said, peering at her more closely. “Aren’t you the girl from yesterday? The one who came in with a sprained ankle and then claimed it healed at my touch?”
Yuzuki felt her cheeks flush with embarrassment. She scratched the side of her face, letting out an awkward laugh. “Ah, haha… yeah, that was me…”
The nurse shook her head with a bemused smile, clearly amused but still a little baffled by the memory.
Yuzuki’s awkward laugh faded as the nurse smiled, still clearly remembering the strange incident from the day before.
A realization flickered through Yuzuki’s mind, sharp and unsettling:
So that means only those present in the MP hall yesterday got their memories erased…
She glanced at the nurse, who was already moving on, humming softly as she cleaned up the medical tray. The nurse’s memory was perfectly intact—she remembered Yuzuki’s “miraculous” recovery in detail. That meant the memory wipe hadn’t affected everyone—just the students and staff who’d been inside the multipurpose hall.
Yuzuki’s thoughts raced. Who else remembers? Who else forgot? The line between normal and supernatural in her world felt thinner than ever—dangerously easy to cross.
A few quiet minutes slipped by in the infirmary, the soft ticking of the wall clock marking the time. Before she knew it, half an hour had passed, and Kaito still hadn’t returned. Yuzuki flexed her bandaged knee and elbow, realizing she felt much better now.
She stood up, smoothing her skirt. “Um, I think I’ll take my leave now,” she said to the nurse.
The nurse looked up from her paperwork, surprised. “Oh, but didn’t your friend ask you to stay here until he got back?”
“Ah! Yeah… he did, but I should leave. Otherwise, I’ll miss my lectures,” Yuzuki replied, forcing a small smile.
The nurse tapped her chin thoughtfully. “But I thought students should obey their prefects! I clearly remember seeing the prefect badge on him.”
Yuzuki nodded, trying to sound resolute. “Yes, you’re right. But I really need to return.”
The nurse sighed, relenting. “Alright. You may leave, but be careful on your way back!”
Yuzuki gave a grateful nod, bowed politely, and said, “Thank you so much!” before dashing out of the infirmary. Her heart pounded with a mix of nerves and determination—she needed to find the one person she knew wouldn’t hurt her.
Amane Rin.
To be Continued...
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