Minami's Monologue: Precious Pain
I sat obediently, my head bowed. I could feel the stinging throb in my knees and my palms which were peeled from the asphalt.
My white skin was now decorated with red spots and dirt, a permanent sign of the courage I forced out earlier.
It really stings, I thought. But strangely, my heart feels much lighter than when I was still sitting at Madoka's table with a fake smile.
Throughout this year, I was always afraid of physical injury because I was afraid of not looking pretty in the eyes of my group. But now, this wound feels like a medal. Evidence that I have tried to hold my own "ball."
"Thank you, Reina..." I whispered softly.
I watched Kurokawa as she began to wash my wounds with cotton slowly. Her movements were very efficient, almost mechanical, yet there was a hidden tenderness behind her cold fingertips.
I know Reina has also been hurt. Not a wound on the knee, but a wound in a place others can't see. She treats me like someone who knows exactly how painful it is to stand alone against the world.
"I'm not praising you for falling in such an inelegant way," Kurokawa said while starting to apply antiseptic.
"But, maintaining what you grasp in front of someone who is socially stronger than you... that is a fairly logical act for someone who wants to prove their existence. Although, the way you did it was very clumsy."
I winced as the clear liquid touched my open wound. "Auw... it really stings, Reina."
"Stinging is a sign that you are still alive and have functioning senses," said a voice from the corner of the room.
I turned toward Izumi. He stood there, leaning his back against the dull wall, staring toward the window with the same bored expression. But I know, Izumi just risked everything for me.
Izumi's Monologue: The Plague Carrier
I stared at the streaks of twilight outside the window, trying to ignore the throb of adrenaline still remaining in my veins.
To be honest, my action earlier was a total failure of the "Nakamura Izumi Transparency" philosophy that I had studied for years.
Why did I do it? I asked myself. I could have remained silent on the sidelines, watching Minami fall, and remained a safe spectator.
But seeing Madoka standing there with such empty arrogance... it made me sick. Madoka is the personification of everything I hate about school: a tyranny built on people's fear of loneliness.
"Compared to the sting of pretending to laugh in front of Madoka and your group, I think that wound on the knee is still tolerable, Minami-san," I said flatly.
Kurokawa glanced at me with her sharp gaze.
"And you, Nakamura-san. I heard from some students passing by that you did something very... unlike you. Stepping into the middle of the court and triggering a direct confrontation? Where did the 'being transparent' philosophy you always bragged about go? You just destroyed your own camouflage."
I looked away, feeling a bit embarrassed for being caught acting like a hero.
"I just don't like watching a boring circus. Besides, Madoka's voice is too shrill in my ears. I just gave her a little 'bait' so she has a new target to hate. That way, she'll be too busy thinking of ways to destroy me rather than dealing with Minami."
"Oh? So you deliberately pulled all that hatred to yourself so that the pressure on Minami-san decreases?" Kurokawa curled a thin smile—the kind of smile that looked like a mockery, yet there was a glint of acknowledgment in her deep eyes.
"A very dirty method, very efficient, and truly disgusting because you sacrifice yourself for a fragile stability. Truly the style of a Nakamura Izumi."
"Izumi is... actually really kind, huh," Yuigahama murmured, staring at her knees which were now neatly wrapped in bandages.
"Don't call me kind. That's an insult to my reputation as a proud loner," I denied quickly.
"I did that because if the school environment continues to be filled with the drama of Madoka's shouting, this place won't be able to carry out its functions quietly. I'm just securing my work environment from noise pollution."
I, Nakamura Izumi, could only take a long breath, realizing that my quiet school life—a life where I was an invisible spectator—had officially ended today.
I had jumped over the line that I had strictly guarded for so long. I was no longer "transparent." I was a black stain on the white uniform of Meiwa High.
"So," I said while taking my messenger bag.
"Tomorrow we will face a class full of hatred. Madoka must have prepared an epic ostracization speech, and Kazuya will stare at us with his annoying sympathetic face. Any plans?"
Kurokawa stood up from her chair. She straightened her skirt with the elegance of a queen who was preparing for a war she had already won in her head.
She looked at the two of us—the girl who had just dared to be honest and the man who had just become a social martyr.
"The plan is simple, Nakamura-san," Kurokawa said with beautiful arrogance.
"We will continue to be ourselves. We will show them that our existence is not determined by their approval. Let them choke on our existence."
I smirked thinly. "Sounds like a very inefficient plan that will make us mentally exhausted."
"Of course," Kurokawa replied. "But isn't that much better than being a mannequin that cannot breathe?"
Minami laughed a little, this time sincere and full of spirit. "Let's do it! Until tomorrow, Reina! Izumin!"
"I told you not to call me Izumin..." I grumbled.
As we stepped out of that room, the twilight light had changed to a calm deep blue.
I walked behind Minami who was limping a bit but still walking upright. In front of her, Kurokawa led with a straight, unburdened back.
Maybe, being public enemy number one won't be that bad, as long as I'm in the right quarantine.