The day began with rain. It wasn't heavy, just a steady drizzle that slicked the windows and made the town look blurred, as if it were melting away. The classroom smelled faintly of damp wood, and everyone's voices seemed hushed, as if unwilling to rise above the rain.
Yui tried to focus on her notebook, but her eyes kept drifting toward Haruto. He was sitting two rows ahead, perfectly still, staring straight ahead. His lips were curved into a faint smile, frozen, like a mask he had decided never to take off.
When the teacher called on him, Haruto stood. Slowly, deliberately, he turned his head toward the class. His lips began to move.
At first, it was just a smile. Wide, polite, wrong. Then, as though something tugged at him from inside, the corners of his mouth kept stretching, inch by inch, far beyond what skin should allow.
The sound came next — a wet, quiet tearing that seemed to echo through the silent classroom. Yui clutched her desk. She couldn't look away.
Haruto's mouth opened wider, his cheeks splitting slightly at the edges. His teeth gleamed in the fluorescent light, sharp from the unnatural tension. His lips trembled, but the smile kept pulling. It was no longer his choice. Something was pushing it further.
"Stop," Yui whispered without realizing it.
The teacher's chalk froze against the board. The other students didn't move. They only stared, their faces still, their eyes wide and unblinking.
Haruto's voice came out strained, warped by the tearing shape of his mouth. "I'm… learning… to smile…" His words slurred, dripping through the cracks of his mouth. "They… say… I must… show it."
His lips tore further. The corners reached toward his ears now, red lines forming in his skin. Yui's stomach churned, her throat tight with the urge to scream.
"Haruto!" she cried. "Stop! You're hurting yourself!"
But his eyes flickered to hers, and for the first time, she saw something behind them — not pain, not fear, but obedience. As though he were listening to someone else.
"They're teaching me," he said again, though his voice now came out wet and trembling. His smile trembled too, no longer human, a grotesque crescent splitting across his face. "I can hear them. Beneath the skin."
With a sudden motion, Haruto lurched forward, clutching his cheeks as the tear split wider. His jaw opened with a sickening creak, and Yui saw the skin ripple along his neck, as though dozens of tiny hands were pressing outward, eager to escape.
She stumbled back, knocking over her chair. The other students didn't move. They watched silently, heads tilted slightly, as if approving of his progress.
The tearing stopped. Haruto collapsed to his knees, gasping, his mouth now split into an inhuman grin that cut across his face. Yet even as bloodless tears marked his skin, he smiled at Yui.
"Better… isn't it?" he asked, voice broken and hoarse.
Yui shook her head violently. "No! No, it's not—this isn't—"
But Haruto only laughed. It was a sound that didn't belong to him, low and echoing, as though many voices were tangled inside his throat.
The teacher finally moved, walking calmly toward Haruto. Instead of helping, she knelt beside him, tilting her head, examining his torn mouth with something like admiration.
"That's enough for today," she whispered. "You'll learn the rest soon."
Haruto nodded, his grotesque grin still stretched impossibly wide. His lips trembled as he forced his mouth shut, but the torn edges never fully closed. His face was ruined, but he smiled as though proud of himself.
Yui ran from the classroom, heart pounding, the image burned into her mind — that impossible smile, splitting him apart, the hands pressing just beneath the skin.
When she finally reached the empty hallway, she leaned against the wall, gasping for air. She didn't realize she was holding her sketchbook until she looked down.
It was already open.
On the page, Haruto's face stared back at her. The smile was even wider in the drawing, splitting all the way around his head, forming a circle. Inside the circle, faint words spiraled outward in jagged letters:
"Smile, and we will be free."
Yui dropped the book and pressed her hands to her ears, but it was too late. She could already hear the voices whispering inside her head, urging her lips to curl upward, stretching her own skin.