The school bell shrieked through the hallway, sharp and metallic, sending a ripple of chatter and shuffling shoes across the building. Classrooms opened like floodgates as students spilled into the corridors, trading books, laughter, and excuses for late homework.
In one corner classroom, a girl hunched over her desk, her hair looking like it had wrestled with a tree and lost. Aya scratched out a number on her notebook with more force than necessary, folding her lips into a scowl. Her notebook, already filled with a series of crossed-out digits, looked less like a diary and more like a battlefield of failed romances.
Behind her, Achogi leaned in with the calm patience of a surgeon, plucking bits of leaves and twigs out of Aya's tangled hair. She flicked a stubborn twig to the floor and sighed.
"Honestly, Aya, Ichi's a nice boy. How come you two didn't even last a week?"
Aya groaned, slamming her pen on the desk.
"He is nice, but who—who, as a guy—thinks it's romantic to end a date with his girlfriend tied to a tree?! Huh?! What was that even supposed to be, some kind of Tarzan roleplay?!"
Her arms flailed animatedly as she spoke, nearly smacking her pencil case off the desk. A couple of nearby students glanced over, but Aya didn't notice—or didn't care.
Achogi laughed under her breath and gently tugged another strand free from Aya's hair. "Calm down, drama queen. I agree it was weird, but…" she smoothed Aya's bangs back, "…you could've just told him you're afraid of heights instead of riding the balloon."
Aya spun around in her chair, eyes wide with offense.
"Excuse me?! I am not afraid of heights! I just… hated the wind, okay? It was cold, and the higher we went the more my stomach was like, nope. That's not fear of heights, thank you very much."
Achogi's lips curled into a knowing smile. She gathered Aya's wild hair, pulled it into a neat ponytail, and snapped a black banda around it with a satisfying pop. "Mhm. Totally not fear of heights. Just all the classic symptoms of it." She handed Aya her compact mirror.
Aya studied her reflection, tilting her head side to side. Her pout softened. "Thanks, Achogi. If you were a guy, you'd be the perfect boyfriend."
Achogi smirked, folding her arms. "Oh, please. If I were a guy, you'd still find some way to dump me."
Aya chuckled, leaning back in her chair. "Fair enough." She shoved the notebook across the desk toward her best friend. "Anyway, next number. Cupid can't shoot arrows without ammo."
Achogi took the notebook, clicked her pen, and jotted down something with her usual careful handwriting. Then she slid it back to Aya.
Aya squinted at the fresh number. "...Okay, but where's his description? I need to know what aisle this prize is sitting in."
"He hasn't enrolled yet," Achogi said matter-of-factly, brushing imaginary dust off her skirt.
Aya blinked. Then she sat up. "You're blind-dating me with a stranger?"
Achogi shrugged with a mischievous grin. "Maybe you won't break up with a stranger so quickly. Who knows?"
Aya slapped her forehead dramatically. "Unbelievable. At least tell me he's handsome."
"Oh, definitely." Achogi's eyes sparkled as she leaned closer, lowering her voice like she was sharing a state secret. "If it were up to me, I'd date him instead of you." She straightened, flipping her hair back. "Sadly, I've got… other plans with other people."
Aya groaned and rolled her eyes so hard it looked painful. "Oh yes, sadly. Poor you, juggling your fan club."
Achogi opened her mouth to retort, but the bell rang again, loud and urgent. A cluster of students gathered at the door, calling her name.
"Achogi! President meeting, let's go!"
She gave Aya a quick smile and a mock salute. "Duty calls. I leave you as bestie and return as student president."
Aya clapped her hands together in mock ceremony, her voice rising theatrically. "Long live our supreme leader!"
Achogi laughed, shaking her head as she slipped out with the others.
Left alone, Aya slumped against her desk, staring at the new number. With a sigh, she pulled out her phone, thumbed in the digits, and added it to her contact list—right below Boy Number 30. She saved it without hesitation: Boy #31. She then shut the screen with a little sigh, and let herself sink back into the wooden chair.
For a moment she just sat there, legs crossed under the desk, staring vaguely at nothing while the soft hum of voices and shuffling around the school floated in from outside the classroom windows.
Her gaze drifted lazily toward the clock above the chalkboard. Free period. Of course. The kind that stretched out wide and empty. Aya drummed her fingers against the desk in a steady rhythm, the kind of absent-minded beat that filled the silence without really meaning anything. After a few moments, she leaned forward, pulling her notebook from her bag.
"Guess I should… actually do that math homework," she muttered under her breath, flipping the notebook open with a kind of half-hearted determination. She found her pen, uncapped it—then promptly fumbled it.
The pen slipped from her fingers, clattering off the edge of the desk and rolling across the floor. Aya ducked down after it, reaching—only for her shoe to nudge it farther away.
"Tch," she clicked her tongue. The pen rolled smoothly all the way toward the classroom door, as if mocking her, before stopping just shy of the hallway. Aya sighed and pushed herself up to follow. She crouched at the doorway, scooped the pen up, and stood.
For a second she just stood there, looking at the pen in her hand. Then she shrugged.
"Well, since I'm already up…"
Aya tucked the pen into her pocket, slid her hands into the skirt pockets alongside it, and stepped into the hallway. A short walk wouldn't hurt. Homework could wait—it always waited, and it wasn't going anywhere.
The corridor stretched out before her, sunlight pouring in from the tall windows along the side. The air felt lighter here, freer than the still atmosphere inside the classroom. Aya started walking without much of a plan, letting her steps carry her down the hall, the faint creak of her shoes on the wooden floorboards keeping her company.
Aya strolled down the hallway, her footsteps tapping lightly against the polished floorboards. The corridor stretched long and quiet, lined with windows on one side where sunlight spilled in soft golden rectangles. Bulletin boards crowded with announcements, flyers for upcoming clubs, and doodles left by students caught her eye here and there, but nothing worth stopping for.
She passed a row of shoe lockers stacked neatly, the faint smell of floor wax and chalk dust hanging in the air. A teacher's voice drifted from a nearby classroom, muffled behind the sliding door, but Aya ignored it, sliding her hands deeper into her skirt pockets.
Her route was aimless, her mood lazy. The gymnasium was tucked away on the far side of the campus, practically the longest walk she could take from her own classroom. Maybe that's why her feet carried her there—longer walk, longer excuse to avoid homework.
By the time she pushed through the side doors, the air grew cooler and faintly tinged with the smell of grass from the athletic field nearby. The large, boxy gym building loomed in front of her, its white paint chipped in places, the faint echo of bouncing balls from practice inside drifting through the walls.
Aya slowed when she heard something else—low chatter, hushed but sharp. Voices.
She tilted her head and peeked around the corner of the gym, curiosity tugging at her.
There, in the narrow space by the gym wall, a boy stood surrounded by three others. They were tossing something between them—an old glass jar, half-full of dirt. Each time the boy in the middle lunged for it, the others laughed, tossing it just out of reach, taunting him with exaggerated shouts.
Aya frowned. Typical.
Not her problem.
She was about to turn back, already thinking about the slow walk to class again, when a sharp crack split the air. Aya turned her head just in time to see the jar hit the ground, dirt spilling across the concrete in a rough scatter.
The boy in the middle dropped to his knees immediately, frantically trying to gather the soil with his hands, whispering numbers under his breath as if he were counting. His posture wasn't defensive, just desperate—like the dirt meant more to him than the laughter around him.
The three others laughed harder, tossing jabs now.
"Look at him, crawling like a bug."
"Dirty freak."
"Hey, maybe he wants to eat it too, huh?"
The boy didn't answer. He just kept scooping, brushing dirt into a little pile.
Aya's eyes narrowed when one of them finally said it.
"Such a weirdo—always with his bugs. Gross."
Weird.
That word struck her like a flick. Aya rolled her shoulders back, and before she had time to think herself out of it, her legs were moving.
As one of the boys wound up for another roast, Aya slipped behind him and drove her foot neatly into the back of his knee. He buckled with a surprised grunt, falling hard onto one leg. The laughter cut short as the other two snapped their heads toward her.
The boy on the ground looked up, confused and wincing. Aya crouched down in front of him, leveling her gaze with his, voice cool and sharp.
"What's wrong with being weird?" she asked, her tone almost casual, though her eyes gleamed.
"W–what…?" he stammered, still clutching his knee.
Aya tilted her head, recognition sliding across her features. She knew this one. "Oh, right. You're in Achogi's little fanclub, aren't you? Wasn't she supposed to hang out with you this weekend?"
The boy froze, his expression draining.
Aya smirked. "Imagine if I told her that the guy she's supposed to meet likes picking on people weaker than him. You know Achogi's not fond of that kind of thing. At all."
Panic flashed on his face. "Don't—don't say anything to her, please."
Aya gave him one last look before she pressed her foot lightly against his cheek and pushed. He toppled back onto the ground, dirt smearing his face.
"Then do me a favor," she said, standing smoothly, "and get out of my sight. If I ever catch you messing with him—or anyone else—consider your weekend canceled."
The boy swallowed hard, scrambling up as fast as his knee would allow. He jerked his head at his two friends, and together they hurried off, muttering under their breaths but not daring to look back.
Aya exhaled through her nose, brushing dust off her skirt as they finally wandered off.
"Never got the appeal of bullying," she muttered
She turned her foot, ready to step toward the boy crouched on the ground.
"You good down—"
"Wait!"
A hand shot up and caught her ankle before her shoe touched the soil. Aya's balance wavered—her arms flailed for a second, panic bubbling up her throat. Her heart slammed as if she really would fall.
The boy quickly scooped a mound of dirt from beneath her heel, easing her foot down on cleared ground.
Aya blinked at him, breathing sharp. What the hell was that—
Then he held out the small clump of earth. Nestled inside was the tiniest flicker of movement. An ant, no larger than a speck. Aya had to squint until her vision stung just to make it out.
"This was the last one," he said quietly.
Before she could answer, he guided the soil onto a neat pile, slipped open a side pouch hanging from his shoulder, and carefully shoveled the dirt—and its crawling cargo—inside. Snap. The pouch shut.
Aya's lips parted, then closed. She stood there with her hand half-raised, like she was about to say something sharp, something normal. But the words dried out. Instead she let her arm fall, fingers tapping against her leg. A long breath left her nose.
"…You know what? Forget it," she muttered, spinning on her heel.
She made it three steps before his voice followed.
"Wait."
The boy rose to his feet, brushing dust from his palms. When Aya looked back, his face caught her like a punch to the chest. For a heartbeat her mind scrambled—her throat closed.
No… it can't…
He bowed, hands pressed to his sides.
"Thank you. For earlier."
Aya's fingers twitched at her sides. She forced her gaze away, chewing her cheek, shaking her head as though she could shake out the thought trying to surface.
"Y-yeah, whatever," she said too fast, waving one hand in dismissal. "Just… try to stand up for yourself next time, okay?"
Her words stumbled as she hurried past him, not daring another glance. The pounding in her chest refused to settle.