My entire anatomy was heavy from my shoulder to my eyes and numb from my hands down to my feet.
Lost, yet painfully aware. Conscious enough to understand I couldn't move.
"Yoshi, man, do you—"
I couldn't quite hear him. Masato's voice bounced along the inside of my skull, every syllable worsening the ache drilling through my head.
Whatever he was saying dissolved before I could grasp it. My thoughts were intoxicated, unable to focus long enough to catch meaning.
Like a dying heartbeat, I drifted between consciousness and subconsciousness.
God, I wanted my bed. Water too. Something cold enough to drag me back to reality.
Masato, you idiot. We've been friends long enough — can't you read my mind already?
"What's wrong with him...?"
Then another voice.
"Poor Erina, she's soaked."
Slowly, reality began stitching itself back together.
"Erina, are you okay?"
"Let's get you cleaned up."
"You can borrow my spare jersey!"
Their voices — all feminine — orbited my skull like burning asteroids moments before collision.
A sick numbness consumed my face while the heaviness inside me spread like a plague. It sparked beneath my skin, festering in waves that rolled from my stomach outward.
I wanted it to stop.
So I tried forcing myself together again, gathering the scattered fragments of my thoughts into the center of my mind.
"Disgusting... Poor Erina."
Against the burning in my eyes, I forced them open.
My head lifted slowly. I tried leaning back into the chair while the liquid smeared across my face slid down my cheek before dripping from my jaw.
"Why couldn't he just go to the infirmary?"
Through my half-open left eye, I spotted a girl with braids staring at me with pity.
The worst kind of pity.
I barely knew her, which somehow made it worse.
"W-where is the..." The words crawled out weakly, my voice dry and uneven.
Pathetic.
Still, some stubborn part of me refused to completely fall apart in front of everyone.
I raised my hand, heavy and numb, wiping across my face before letting it fall beside the chair. My head drooped toward my chest, though at least my vision was finally beginning to stabilize.
When I looked up properly, I counted seven — maybe eight — girls crowded together near my desk. Their attention stayed fixed on the center of their group, hands moving quickly while they almost entirely ignored me.
Masato leaned over from behind.
"You've seriously messed up, man. This is a disaster — literally. You were coughing blood. I thought you were dying."
A groan escaped me.
My stomach twisted as I realized he wasn't exaggerating. The evidence covered my desk, my shirt...
...and Erina.
"Where's the teacher?" I asked, louder than intended.
At that point, embarrassment hardly mattered anymore.
"He left a few minutes ago. Got called out right before you erupted."
For once, Masato wasn't smiling. Even he knew not to push it.
At his comment, one of the girls turned around immediately.
Her hazel brown eyes beaming with a gaze that uncovered a disdain that pronounced Masato and I are a waste of space.
She had a ponytail, was fairly short and had a weird array of bracelets running up her arm all pink in color.
Honestly, I couldn't remember her name. I usually only remembered people who left an impression.
Ironically, she was managing that now.
"You think this is funny?" she snapped. "Erina is covered in this slob's vomit. Do you know how long it'll take to remove the stains? The putrid smell?"
Heat rushed violently into my cheeks.
Erina stepped away from the group, reaching for the girl's shoulder.
"Yumi, it's really fine. Yoshi's just unwell—"
Even soaked and pale, clearly shaken herself, Erina still tried easing the tension.
That was just who she was.
But Yumi — a classmate I'd barely spoken to — wasn't interested in letting things settle.
Her bracelets clattered softly as she planted both hands on Masato's desk.
"No. This idiot needs to understand something. People deserve respect. Yoshi ruined Erina's dignity."
I tried avoiding her gaze, but her anger dragged my attention back anyway, as if an invisible hand had seized my head and forced me to watch Masato defend us.
This was unnecessary.
She kept stretching the situation further and further, turning humiliation into spectacle.
Worse, she spoke as if our self-respect was something she had the authority to judge.
It irritated me.
Masato looked equally done with it.
"You're acting like he did it on purpose," he shot back. "Yoshi's obviously sick."
"Obviously?" Yumi scoffed. "Then where was his common sense? Why didn't he excuse himself before making a mess?"
I couldn't exactly explain that I'd blacked out because of a nightmare.
How insane would that sound?
I had no symptoms; it all stemmed from a dream bad enough to destroy my body.
How illogical, explaining it all would likely have me excluded from any future gatherings.
Not even Alison could save my reputation after that.
"The teacher left! how should he have—" Masato began but Yumi cuts him off.
"Any responsible male would have control over their body, clearly there was no self-restraint."
It was pointless, her ego is like a flare that threatens to grow and scorch us all.
And poor Masato, I knew he wanted to comfort Erina, or to at least have helped out but the entire class was showing hostility.
Usually when Alison is here, it's bearable like a scale kept within an equilibrium. Her absence unwillingly has caused frustration, and the resentment that was held dormant now had a feeding ground.
Masato and I usually fly by under the radar, but since becoming friends with Alison, I've had the feeling that both of us are a hot topic within the gossip groups.
Now that she wasn't here, I felt that those like Yumi despite being quiet, and those watching on the edges. They are just like vultures feeding off her frustration.
It's unfair and uncalled for, and these realizations despite my weak body, I felt irritable.
I watch as Masato regains himself "I'll get him checked out and call the Janitor while I'm at it."
He says this calmly while stepping out of his desk, holding onto his chair for support.
Yumi watches this, her hands holding steadfast on Masato's desk as she watches him struggle. A smirk plays over her face.
She scoffs "Oh please, you can't even walk yourself around without needing support, you might fall over yourself before even reaching the infirmary."
Now some students were taken aback, Yumi had crossed a line but her predatory gaze showed she was prepared to go further.
I look into Masato's eyes and all I could see, was an abyss. That stare and gaze that I had seen once before.
The memory had my heart race, back then I had run at full sprint as I pulled him away from the edge of the cliff.
That brief memory…
I instinctively moved, my brain was still caught within that nightmare, I bumped my knee against my desk as I stood up, but I couldn't care.
Yumi faltered as her expression changes from predator to innocence.
I was still weak and fighting my own body, but Yumi's preaching about respect now seemed hypocritical and it annoyed me enough.
The classroom rang in silence yet I realized quickly that it was my ears, ringing out of anger.
"How dare you. Have you no compassion for him? If you are quick to judge about restraint then surely, you're a hypocrite."
I don't shout this, nor do I express a venomous tone.
I don't wait for her to respond; I step towards Masato, my eyes never leaving Yumi's. That is where I poured all my venom.
I knew she saw it, how I reflected the same worthless feeling she gave me a minute ago, was now being reflected back to her.
The vultures surrounding us whispered. I reach for Masato's shoulder, but in that instant Yumi fell straight onto the floor.
I looked to the ground, trying to find what she had tripped over, my eyes surveying a spotless floor. Had she tripped over herself?
The contact had been loud. Masato flinched beside me. Yumi's palms met the linoleum directly where it hurt.
Her sudden, vulnerable stature almost made me forget her words. Instinctively, I reached out my hand.
She didn't look up immediately. For a moment — just a moment — I thought she might take it. Then her eyes lifted from her lap, hazel and spilling steam like hot coffee.
I don't retract my arm in time, as it's smacked away with such force.
"Don't touch me, Idiot!" She says, a tear forming on the rings of her eyes.
I was confused, a mess and unsure as to what exactly I had done. I felt as if all the events that unfolded were that of a bad dream. Maybe I was still drifting, my physical body lounging comfortably over my desk.
Yet I knew that I was only kidding myself.
I failed to meet the gaze of Masato, Yumi or even my other classmates. I was embarrassed, lost within my own unwell body and unsure as to how I should tread this hostility. I was to focus internally but the realization that a shift had moved the entire class to another focus.
I turn around, my eyes focusing on the door and then the front-end center of our classroom. There were two of them, they wore ties and carried badges that dignified their uniform. The one commanding the most attention was female, her expression serious. Yumi was still on the floor — and the officer took great note of this.
I note our teacher standing on the edges by the entrance, like a nervous mouse, his shaky voice tightening the tension.
"Students, these are detectives they represent Chichibu district police station. Please treat them with respect and follow their directives." He finishes with a bow and steps out into the hallway.
I wondered if I should sit back down into my desk, but with the mess and Yumi on the floor I was fastened, held by questions and the authoritative stance of the female detective.
"My name is Haruka, Yoshida Haruka." She begins, taking a step towards the desk in front of the middle row, the student arches back with discomfort.
"We are investigating an incident which occurred early this morning. We believe that some students may have..." She pauses, I notice her eyes haven't moved from mine.
"Information. Information that could help with our investigation. If we call your name, please conduct yourself orderly with my associate Detective Yaguchi." She raises her hand towards the man on her right, he seemed to match her intensity despite his nerdy appearance, glasses and hair combed with precision.
"Be prepared to be held within our custody for hours, food and water will be provided. I will finish by saying that this is not an arrest, only questioning."
Her emphasis on questioning was meant to lighten their urgency, but the emphasis had some students widen their eyes.
The detective took out her notebook, opening it to a page bookmarked with a pen, her eyes only scanning it briefly.
"Odawa Erina, Hiroshi Masato, Kakegawa Ichinose, Yagame Hiro and Taka Yoshi."
My ears began to ring again, not out of anger but from shock. I wanted to obey but I felt as if I was struck with hot iron.
"Wh-what's going on?" This came from Ichinose; her lips quivered, her legs visibly shaking, a complete contrast to her usually calmer demeanor.
"Yeah why am I being questioned? I have a baseball match this afternoon, I can't—" Hiro began. He had stood up from his desk in the front left row; he was tall and affirming, but his confidence was quickly snapped away from him.
"My instructions were clear, if your name was called, conduct yourself orderly. Rejecting to cooperate will only prolong your time. Your teacher will notify your coaches, parents and other relatives. If you cooperate, we won't have to use too much of your time." Detective Haruka said with clarity and affirmation. Her eyes studied Hiro, questioning him to continue.
Hiro seemed irritated, but he complied. "Tsk — fine, let's get this over with."
With the growing murmurs of our classmates, each step cautious with uncertainty, each of the named made their way to the male detective. Masato and I approached last.
The man looks at Erina and myself, the mess all over our uniforms and stains of blood that have since dried into our fabrics. His face does not show disgust but instead questions, something you'd expect from a detective.
It seems Haruka has also noticed our mess, but no words or signs of contempt were given.
We were all guided outside, the growing murmurs and whispers of our classmates growing louder, contrasting each of our belief to remain silent.
In the hallway I notice Mr. Ura, Kiori and Ms. Tomita.
Erina exits the classroom last, her face remains pale, strides pathetic and eyes that clench on nerves but long for freedom to melt. Kiori instantly rushes over, her arms freezing just before reaching into a hug, unable to console whatever mess Erina had been in.
Her whispers were clear, I was hyper aware at this moment.
"What happened, you're a mess. Erina are you unwell?" Kiori lifts her hands against Erina's skin, checking the heat coming from her forehead. It's the gentlest I've seen Kiori be with anyone.
Erina lifts her lips, trying to seem positive.
"One of our classmates is sick, I just happened to be nearby." Not specifying, no gaze in my direction to hint at me as the culprit. She wasn't going to confess.
I noticed why instantly, and I was grateful.
Kiori's face went from contempt and concern into a quiet irritation, her hands clenching into fists.
"Tell me who it was, Erina..."
"Kiori stop, they aren't well. I was just unlucky." "Unlucky, common sense Erina, they lack the common decency to..."
With her voice rising in irritation, from Erina's soft heart and maybe the haywire stress brought on by the detectives, Ms. Tomita approaches them both, initially stern but upon seeing Erina, she dissolves.
I walk toward the opposite end. I hadn't begun to speculate what we were called upon just yet, or the questions I would be asked; my mind was simply tired.
I was tired and sick of today, without proper sleep and a nightmare that threatens to visit me again tonight. I was emotional and dissociated from the nerves keeping me sane. That was important, especially in front of the detectives.
We hadn't moved just yet, students were peeking through classrooms, footsteps echoed at the ends of the hallway.
Masato, who had been in a brief conversation with Mr. Ura, walked over to me.
"They are just discussing car arrangements; the teachers are being really pessimistic about our treatment."
"They are just worried about our school appearance."
"Why would they? Our school is not that special; our government built this infrastructure on the edge of a forest."
"Pride, Masato. It's a condition that has no boundaries."
He pauses, as if noting my sour tone. His earlier darkened atmosphere from the encounter with Yumi could not be seen, but I know better and that I should check up on him when this is all over. Not now though.
Our flesh had already been wounded, our own pride tarnished. Our only remaining vocation was to protect what was left of it all, even with the threatening afternoon that awaits us.
Masato finds some ground internally, I can see it. He's already a step ahead of me.
He chuckles. "Pride is not worth anything, my friend, but I wouldn't mind spending it on some MochiMochi." He says this with a widening smile.
I breathe out slowly before returning my own dry smile.
"I could go for that, mind sparing me some when this is all done?"
He nods before clapping my shoulder.