The hallway was louder than usual. Not in volume but in tone. You could feel it in the way words dropped and eyes clung to him like burrs. Whispers bounced from locker to locker. Half-hidden grins flashed behind hands. Heads craned and turned as he passed.
Sakura walked down the corridor with his hands in his pockets, his bag slung loosely over one shoulder. Step by Step.
That's him with the monochrome hair
I heard he carries a knife. They say he cut someone so bad they—
The words blended into one droning hum. Sakura let them. Let them say whatever they wanted. That's what people did. They turned strangers into stories. Easy to spit out a name when it didn't cost you anything.
A laugh to his left caught his ear. Hayata Suo leaned lazily against the lockers, arms crossed, watching with half-lidded eyes.
When Sakura passed, Suo smirked and called out, soft and cutting
"Look at that. The famous transfer actually shows his face before noon. Don't trip on your own reputation, rookie."
Sakura didn't stop walking. Didn't look at him. But he heard Sugishita cackle behind him, loud and obnoxious
"Bet he doesn't last a week," Sugishita joked to Kirita and Tsugeura, who all grinned.
Tsugeura chimed in:
"Not even three days if you ask me. He's got those 'tragic loner' vibes."
Sakura thought:
You talk too much. All of you.
He caught a flicker of movement at the back of the classroom when he stepped in. Akihiko Nirei was there, already seated, scribbling something in his notebook. Nirei's pen paused when Sakura walked by. Their eyes met. Just for a second. And then Nirei dropped his gaze back to the page and kept writing.
Sakura took his seat by the window, the sun spilling across his desk. He didn't bother looking up when more whispers flared around him.
"They're already turning me into something I'm not. Fine. Let them. But when they find out what I really am… we'll see if they still want to say my name out loud."
The door clattered open about ten minutes into first period, and in came Umemiya, casual as always. Sunshine smile, hands in his pockets, like nothing in the world could shake him.
"Alright," he said, voice easy but loud enough to silence the chatter. "Since everyone's already whispering about the transfer, let's make it official."
He jerked his thumb at Sakura.
"This guy's under Furin's roof now. That means he wears the name. Don't mistake quiet for weak. You test him, you better hope you can stand back up after."
Sugishita snorted under his breath. Kirita smirked knowingly. Tsugeura muttered something about how "actions speak louder than speeches."
Umemiya's gaze held Sakura's for a long moment. Sakura only nodded once, slow and deliberate.
On his way back to his seat, Tsugeura "accidentally" slammed his shoulder into Sakura's.
"Oops," Tsugeura said, smirking.
Sakura stared at him, silent.
One. That's one strike.
From across the room, Suo let out a dry laugh. "Careful, rookie. Don't trip over your legend."
Sakura stayed still, eyes fixed on the desk.
Names carry weight here. They're trying to see if mine'll crack.
From the corner of his vision, he saw Nirei glance up, pen pausing again.
The rooftop was colder today. Wind lashed at his hair and tugged at his hood, but he didn't care. Better cold than loud. Better high than buried in their noise.
When he opened the door, she was already there.
Kotoha leaned against the fence, her ponytail snapping in the wind, arms folded.
"You're letting them write your story for you," she said before he even sat down.
He raised an eyebrow, settling on the concrete. "Didn't realize I had a ghostwriter."
"You do," she replied. "And they're terrible at it."
Sakura smirked faintly but didn't answer. Unwrapped his sandwich. Bit into it.
Kotoha turned her head, watching him from the corner of her eye.
"You know how this place works?" she asked.
"Everyone fights," he said flatly.
"Wrong," she shot back. "Everyone here earns their scars. Big difference. You're walking around like you already own them."
He chewed slowly, meeting her gaze. "You really care what they think?"
She narrowed her eyes. "I care about people who sink because they're too proud to learn how to swim."
He chuckled once, dry and quiet. "You always talk like that?"
Kotoha smirked faintly. "Only to people who look like they're about to drown."
For a moment, neither spoke. The wind roared around them. Finally, Sakura murmured:
"If they're already writing me down, then I must matter."
Kotoha's eyes softened, just barely, before she turned away.
By the time the final bell rang, the whispers had changed tone. Sharper now. Louder. They didn't even bother lowering their voices.
"Dead man walking."
"Guess we'll see how tough he really is."
He didn't rush nor hide. He Packed his bag slow. Walked down the hall while Sugishita and Tsugeura hovered by the lockers, pretending not to watch him.
Suo was still leaning against the wall, quiet and amused.
Kiryu stood farther down, arms crossed, gaze flat and unreadable.
All of them waiting. Good, Let them wait.
When he stepped outside, the sun had already begun to set. The sky burned orange and gold.
On the wall just past the gate, scrawled in thick black marker:
SAKURA = DEAD MAN WALKING
WHO'S NEXT, TRANSFER?
SHITO HIGH COWARD
Sakura stopped. Stared. He walked up to the wall, raised a hand, and traced one of the letters with his finger.
They know my name. That's all that matters. I'm already in their heads. Let them come.
"Looks like you're popular already."
The voice came from behind him. He turned.
Enomoto leaned lazily against the fence, arms folded, wearing a faint, knowing smirk. Kaji stood next to him, quiet, unreadable, but his eyes sharp.
Enomoto tilted his head. "Big shoes you're trying to fill, transfer. You better have the feet for them."
Sakura didn't answer. Just held his stare for a long moment before turning back to the wall.
Kaji spoke then, softly. "Don't let the ink get to you. It washes off."
Sakura gave the faintest of nods.
When he finally left, he didn't look back.
The streets home were quiet. Long shadows stretched out on the asphalt. He passed the closed-down arcade again, paused.
In his head, the words on the wall repeated over and over.
Dead Man Walking.
When he reached his apartment, he sat on the floor with his back against the wall, staring at his taped hands.
Let them write my name. Let them whisper it. When the time comes, I'll make sure they never forget how it sounds when they're saying it through blood.
Above him, far away on the rooftop of another building, Kotoha watched his small figure disappear into the shadows.
She whispered to herself
You're not here to drown, are you?