The air was heavy that morning, as if the entire school waited for something to break. Takashi sensed it the moment he stepped onto campus. Whispers clustered in corners, students hunched over their phones, screens glowing with a shared secret.
He felt the prickle of eyes on him, the way conversations paused when he passed. His chest tightened before he even knew why.
In the hallway outside his classroom, Kenta caught up to him, face drawn and hesitant. "Takashi… have you seen it?"
"Seen what?" Takashi asked, voice already low with dread.
Kenta swallowed and turned his phone around. On the screen was the school's anonymous forum, and at the top—a grainy photo, slightly blurred but unmistakable. It showed Takashi and Mizuki-sensei on the rooftop, their faces close, hands nearly touching. Even without sound, the intimacy was clear.
Takashi's breath caught. "Where did this come from?"
"No idea," Kenta said quietly. "But everyone's seen it by now."
The words felt like ice water down Takashi's spine. His mind scrambled to remember who could have been watching them, how it had happened. But the answer didn't matter; the damage was already done.
---
In the faculty room, Mizuki sat frozen before her own phone. The photo glared up at her, a truth she had hoped to keep hidden now laid bare. Around her, the silence of other teachers felt heavier than anger—disbelief, judgment, and disappointment settled in the air.
Vice Principal Okabe's voice cut through the tension. "Ayane-sensei, my office. Now."
She rose, pulse thudding painfully in her ears, and followed him.
Behind the closed door, Okabe's expression was hard. "What do you have to say about this?"
"It's not what it looks like," Mizuki began, but her voice faltered under his stare.
"It looks like an inappropriate relationship with a student," he shot back, his words sharp. "You've been warned before about keeping distance. And now this."
"Nothing happened," she insisted, voice trembling. "We spoke, that's all."
Okabe shook his head. "Intentions matter less than perception. You know that. The board will need to review this, and parents have already begun calling. Until this is resolved, I suggest you prepare for the consequences."
The room spun slightly as Mizuki absorbed the weight of it. Consequences. Reputation. Everything she had worked to protect, now teetering on collapse.
---
Between classes, Takashi found himself the target of stares that felt sharper than words. Some students watched him with curiosity, others with scorn or disgust. A few whispered openly.
"Did you see it? He's got something going on with Ayane-sensei."
"No way. Seriously?"
"It's right there on the forum!"
The words cut deeper than he expected. He wanted to shout, to deny it—but part of him knew the photo spoke louder than anything he could say.
At lunch, Takashi slipped away to the old stairwell, the one few students used. The quiet there was a fragile comfort, though even here, his thoughts roared.
Footsteps approached. He looked up sharply to see Mizuki standing there, her face pale, eyes shadowed with fatigue and fear.
"Sensei…" he started, but she raised a hand gently.
"I know," she said softly. "I've seen it."
They stood there, the air between them heavy with shared guilt and helplessness.
"I'm sorry," Takashi said, his voice cracking. "If I hadn't—"
"Don't," she interrupted, stepping closer, though still leaving a careful space between them. "This isn't your fault alone. We both let it happen."
Her voice wavered, and for a second, she looked as if she might break. But she steadied herself, drawing in a slow breath.
"We can't change what's happened," she continued, quieter now. "All we can do is face it."
Takashi's chest ached with the unfairness of it all. "What will they do to you?"
She hesitated. "A formal investigation. Possibly suspension. Worse, if the board decides."
"And me?" he asked, though he already knew the answer.
"They'll question you," she said gently. "Some will judge. Others may keep their distance. But Takashi… promise me something."
He looked up, meeting her gaze fully.
"Don't let this destroy who you are," she whispered. "No matter what happens to me."
His breath shuddered. "And you? What about you?"
"I'll manage," she said, though her voice betrayed a flicker of doubt.
For a brief moment, Takashi wanted to reach for her, to offer comfort. But the memory of the photo, and what it had already cost, rooted him in place.
Mizuki managed a small, sad smile. "Go to class," she said softly. "I have a meeting to attend."
He nodded, though neither moved for several seconds longer. Then she turned, her figure receding down the stairwell, leaving Takashi alone with the echo of footsteps and the rising tide of consequences neither of them could stop now.
Outside, the spring air felt colder than before, as rumors turned truth into something sharp enough to cut them both.