Let's define a "friend."
Someone you truly hold dear? Something who you truly think that you can relied on?
That's a lie we always heard from someone.
The truth is ──────────
A friend is just someone who hasn't shown you what they truly want from you yet.
Everyone wants something out of them.
Approval....
Comfort....
Entertainment..
A story to tell later
A Shield ──────────
No one just...
loves you.
Not really. Not without a reason
You don't call someone who hates you a friend.
WHY? ──────────
Because There's no payoff. It's that simple.
So, in the end, there's no one you can truly hold dear.
At the end of the lonely road of whatever you call "love", You're the only one left standing there.
Six hours of silence, I understood.
I understand others things. I understand the precise number of steps from the front gate of Kiryū Academy to my classroom.... (284) I understand that wearing long sleeves in May makes you invisible, and not suspicious. I understand that the safest expression is none at all.
I'm a ghost by design. My life is a series of controlled inputs to avoid unpredictable outputs.
A quiet breath in.
A measured step.
A neutral gaze that meets nothing for longer than necessary.
Haruki Akiyama. Seventeen.
Classroom is a zoo before the homeroom start. Laughter that's too loud. Gossip that's too sharp. Tanaka Kaito is at the center of it, his smile a perfect, gleaming thing.
It's a good smile.
Practiced ───
It doesn't reach his eyes.
I remember when it did.
I remember a lot of things I've trained myself to forget.
He catches my eye for a fractured second as I slip into my seat at the back.
His smile wavers.
His gaze drops...
It's the same dance.. His guilt, my silence.
A tired equation.
I look away, out the window. The sky is a flat... meaningless blue.
"Akiyama"
The voice isn't loud, but it cuts through the noise. It belongs to
Fujimoto Akari ──────
Standing beside my desk.
A Student Council President
The girl who is, by all metrics, the exact opposite of a ghost. She is present. She is seen. She is, infuriatingly, looking directly at me...
"Yes?" My voice is a neutral tone.. A flatline.
"You're on the library reorganization committee." She states it like a fact of the universe. "Starting today after school. Room 203."
I didn't sign up for any committee. This is an input I didn't account for. I run a quick calculation.
Refusal requires explanation, draw attention.
I guess.... Agreement is the path of least resistance.
"Understood." I say, looking not at her, but at the textbook I'm already opening.
She doesn't leave. I can feel her glaze on the top of my head.
"it's quiet work." she adds, her voice lower. "Just sorting books. No group discussions."
My finger stills on the page. The setting is weirdly specific. Not that I really care.
She walks away before I can respond. I watch her go, the ribbon in her hair perfectly straight, she stands with a confidence and determination that I don't understand anymore.
An unexpected surprise. Someone I didn't see coming.
I glance at the window again. My reflection is faint in the glass...
A pale boy with empty eyes.
A face designed to be forgotten.
The ghost in the machine.
For a second, just a second, I wonder what he sees what he looks at me. The boy with the perfect smile.
Does he see the friend he betrayed? Or just the empty space where that friend used to be?
Then I shut it down, I lock the thought away. I am the only one in this room. The only one in this story. The only one standing at the end of this lonely road.
That's the only definition that matters anymore.