As soon as the bell rang, Mr. Takeuchi walked into the classroom, his expression unusually cheerful.
Before he even spoke, Shouko leaned over and whispered to Akira, her tone curious:
"Akira, why does Mr. Takeuchi seem so happy today? Just last class he looked exhausted…"
Akira glanced up, studying the teacher's face.
"Maybe… he got a better-paying job?"
Shouko raised a brow, unconvinced. "How can you tell that just by looking at him?"
Mr. Takeuchi tapped his textbook on the podium and cleared his throat.
"Alright, settle down. Class is starting."
There was a trace of joy in his voice. And truthfully, Akira's guess wasn't far off.
A private elementary school had contacted Takeuchi about a job he applied for half-heartedly weeks ago. Yesterday, he'd gone for an interview, not expecting anything—especially after a small, awkward mishap during the process. But to his surprise, just before class, he received a call confirming he got the position.
It paid two to three times more than his current salary.
He'd nearly resigned on the spot, but thought better of it. With only a week until graduation—and with Daiki Miyamura's son in this class—he decided to finish what he'd started and leave on good terms.
"Class dismissed," Mr. Takeuchi announced before exiting the room without another word.
A moment later, a loud voice called from the back of the classroom.
"Hey, Ishida! Why the long face? You look like someone stole your lunch!"
Several boys stood near Shoya Ishida's desk, laughing. Shoya, head down, didn't respond. His shoulders were slumped, his expression blank.
Most classmates barely glanced over. They were used to this by now.
Akira rested his chin in his hand, quietly observing the scene. It was playing out exactly as he'd expected.
Shoya had tried to resist at first. But as the harassment continued, his will slowly wore down. The day he tried to catch the culprits in the act, he'd ended up fighting them—but the school hadn't taken it seriously. No parents were called. Just a verbal warning from Takeuchi.
The next day, the bullying worsened. Torn books, flipped desks—this time, Shoya's math textbook was shredded and left on the floor.
And the culprits? Absent, supposedly on leave.
That was the moment Shoya's spirit cracked. When even his "friends" stopped defending him, it became hard to trust anyone. He started to feel like everyone in class wore masks—familiar faces became indistinct and cold.
The whole thing quietly faded, unresolved.
Later that evening...
"Shoya, there are snacks in the fridge!" his mother, Miyako, called cheerfully from the salon while trimming a customer's hair.
Shoya trudged in, eyes downcast. At her bright smile, something inside him snapped.
"Leave me alone!" he barked, tossing his bag on the counter and storming into the back room.
Startled, Miyako apologized to her client and gave a tired sigh.
In the past couple of months, she had noticed changes in her son. He no longer had that same light in his eyes. His temper had grown shorter, and when she asked what was wrong at school, he just brushed her off.
Worried, she had contacted Mr. Takeuchi. His response?
"Everything's fine. Shoya's been well-behaved, staying out of trouble."
Miyako had thanked him politely, but doubts remained. So she asked two of Shoya's old friends directly.
They claimed nothing was wrong—that Shoya was just focusing on studies, and they'd hang out again after graduation.
Reassured by their answers—and seeing that Shoya hadn't come home injured—she convinced herself not to dig further.
That night, at Akira's house…
"Akira, if I do well on the final exams…" Shouko hesitated, looking nervous. "Will you agree to one request?"
Akira paused in the middle of peeling an orange, glancing over at her.
"You don't even have to take the exam," he said, smiling. "Just tell me what the request is first."
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