All content in this novel is for fictional and entertainment purposes only. Any resemblance to real people or events is purely coincidental. This story may include emotionally heavy or distressing themes. Reader discretion is advised.
The door closes behind her with a soft click.
Assistant Principal Tanaka breathes out — relieved or nervous, I can't tell.
Principal Sakamoto gives me a long, steady look. I don't think its pity. In all honesty I wasn't worried about that at all.
"If there is anything you need dear," he says carefully, "my office is always open for you."
I bow out of habit and give him a simple "Thank you" as a too turn around to leave.
The hallway feels too bright when I step back into it. It's too quiet. My reflection glides beside me in the glossy floor as I walk down the empty hallways. I can even see my uniform in my reflection. My mother always gives me a big-ass lecture even if I put my tie on the wrong way. To me, these uniforms are suffocating. Some see a perfect student. Some see a perfect daughter. But all I see is a perfect lie.
Every step echoes like it's trying to remind me I exist… when I'd rather not.
The corridor is empty now, windows lining the walls like silent witnesses. Most students are already in class, the air humming softly with distant chatter and the dull buzz of the overhead lights. The faint smell of disinfectant lingers — sharp and clean.
I'm halfway down the corridor when hurried footsteps slap against the floor behind me.
"Shirasaki-san! W–Wait!"
I stop — barely — and turn just enough to see Assistant Principal Tanaka jogging toward me, out of breath. His tie has twisted to the side, a strand of dark hair stuck to his forehead like he ran his hands through it one too many times.
He slows a few feet away, careful not to come any closer than necessary.
His posture straightens instinctively — professional, but clearly flustered.
He gives a small, sheepish smile.
"I called your name many—"
"...Are you following me, sir?" I cut in.
My voice is flat, unimpressed. I couldn't care less about whatever speech he's trying to deliver. All I want is to get back to class before people start any nonsense.
"W–What? No! I just… I walk fast. In the same direction! Accidentally!" He gestures vaguely down the corridor, as if that explains anything.
"So… you called my name out accidentally too?" I add, giving him a disgusted look.
"That… I just… I wanted…" He stalls, hands lifting helplessly before dropping again. "I, uh—"
He exhales, clearly frustrated with himself.
"You know you're twenty-four, right? You shouldn't go around ogling high school girls like that. People might mistake you for a pervert, y'know." I plant a hand on my hip, staring him down.
"I'm not interested in such things, I prefer woman over girls," he mutters, just barely under his breath.
"Excuse me?"
"Nothing! Nothing, forget I said anything" he blurts. "It's just that— sigh… I just wanted to say sorry. If that felt overwhelming."
The tension shifts, just a little.
"Oh… you mean the meeting." My hand drops back to my side. "It's nothing, really. I'm used to it."
My eyes drift to the floor tiles. Tiny cracks in the waxed surface. My reflection barely shows in the shine. I feel a strange warmth creep up my neck for no real reason.
"I think you handled it really well."
"Did I?" I murmur, looking back up at him.
"You did," he says, nodding — too earnestly, like a nervous habit. "I just… wanted to make sure you're okay. Parents can be, um… intimidating."
His eyes widen suddenly.
"Not that your mother is intimidating! I mean, she is, but not— okay. Bad wording. Very bad wording."
He runs a hand through his hair, trying to recover.
Smooth as sandpaper.
I raise an eyebrow, unimpressed. "You're new at this, aren't you?"
"Yes," he admits instantly.
That wins a small, unwilling smile out of me.
"It's alright. Thank you, though." I return my gaze onto the ground, but my voice is softer now.
"Yes," he admits instantly.
A beat passes.
He clears his throat and offers a small, nervous smile.
"You know," he begins, "when I was in high school, I knew this girl. She wasn't the top of the class or anything, and honestly? I don't think she ever turned in homework on time."
He laughs quietly to himself.
"But she always tried her best. Even when things were complicated at home. She kept showing up. Something about her made me want to do my best too."
His smile softens, warm and earnest.
"I guess what I'm trying to say is… you remind me a little of her."
His words hang in the air between us, too gentle for the hallway we're standing in.
I just stare at the floor, clenching my teeth while letting the silence stretch a second too long.
Hah. You serious? Nothing about my mother allows "trying."
Must be nice to have the freedom to "try" at all.
Everything is demand that needs to be done with precision. She expects perfection is carved into my bones or something.
My face doesn't change. It never does.
Not enough to look like I care, but enough for the words to sting more than they should.
His smile falters just slightly as he catches the shift in my expression.
The bell rings in the distance. Well there it goes ringing as if it's a war zone.
"Well—what I'm saying is…" He gestures vaguely, like he's sculpting the air.
"If you ever need anything, and I mean anything… I'd be happy to lend a hand."
I nod once because rejecting kindness takes more energy than accepting it.
"Thank you....I should, uh… get back to class," I say.
"Yes. Of course. And Shirasaki-san?"
"Yes?"
He's grinning like an idiot again. Theirs nothing professional about this guy.
"…Good luck, I know you you can do it, so give it your all!"
I nod once.
"Okay."
He waves too enthusiastically and heads down the opposite hall, nearly tripping over his own feet.
I release a quiet breath I didn't realize I was holding and continue walking.
My footsteps echoing once more as I head down the corridor — but this time, they don't sound quite as heavy.
------Chapter Ends------