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When did the body shaming start?
You ask…
It started in my first year of school.
A fat body wrapped in white and black vitiligo skin. A body that barely fit into the small school uniform. A body that invited endless insults. A sensitive body that turned even the slightest bruise or scratch into the biggest scar or angry red mark.
Among humans, there are quiet ones who secretly wish they were dead. Humans who wish they had never existed at all.
I was one of them.
"Look at her. Acting all high and mighty just because she came first in the school ballet competition. Tsk. Tsk."
"Zumi can dance way better. I hate her guts."
"Well, what do you expect? Her father is a rich pharmaceutical businessman. He's one of the top sponsors of our school, so you'd better not get on her nerves or you'll get kicked out like Mei."
Three girls muttered among themselves in the large practice hall where the six ballet dancers had gathered, waiting for their instructor.
One was Omi — beautiful full blue hair and serene sea-blue eyes, graceful like a mermaid. Her relationship with me was neutral. She minded her own business and never poked her nose where it didn't belong. She came in second place.
The third was Risa — pink curly hair adorned with flowery transparent ribbons and gem-like eyes. She was the youngest among us, untouched by the world's cruelty, always wearing the brightest smile. She came from a family that drowned her in love and affection.
The remaining three — Lumi, Suzu, and Yosei — were the average girls in our group, constantly compared to the rest of us, especially to me. As the one who always took first place, I stood out with my long silk-black hair and unreal all-white eyes. What made me truly different was the vitiligo — patches of beautiful black and white that shifted into shades of gold and silver under sunlight. Doll-like perfection in studies, dancing, sports… I lacked nothing.
Yet I was born this way. Fat. Timid. Ugly in the eyes of others. I was ridiculed, insulted, and cursed, but never outright bullied. I never had a single friend. I don't know what it feels like to have one. The only person I ever spoke to was my father — a strict but loving man who doted on me even though I was the reason for my mother's death.
Humans… people who will use you for their own gain — boredom, satisfaction, pleasure — only to toss you aside the moment you become worthless to them. They will point fingers and accuse you of their own crimes, never imagining how heartbreaking it is to be punished for something you didn't do… until it happens to them.
That's why I wish I had never existed.
How would you feel standing at the roadside, completely zoned out, only for your worried mother to run toward you and be hit by a huge truck right in front of your eyes? One second she was alive. The next, she lay dead in a pool of blood.
It should have been me.
My mom… my only reason for living.
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"Did I do this dance well, Mom?"
I remember you once said you wished for one more daughter who would become a ballet dancer. Am I doing it well enough?
It isn't easy at all… but Mom, you know the sweetest part of my ballet dancing?
It's remembering my happy memories with you.
Will those sweet days ever come back?
Sweet Sixteen.
I love the dead. Yes, the cemetery… where you lie now. Your grave. I love sitting there. It's so peaceful.
Oh, my dear Mom… you should have taken me with you. Everywhere else feels suffocating. So suffocating it feels like a different kind of hell — one made just to torture me without ever granting me death.
"Alright, girls! That's all for today."
The instructor clapped lightly, ending the evening ballet class and pulling me out of my thoughts. I watched as she gently cautioned Yosei about a slight change in her weight.
Right… a ballet dancer must not consume too many calories and must always stay on a strict diet. Being fat taught me that the hard way. I starved myself for days, weeks, months. I ate only stale bread, avoided butter, sugar, and anything with high calories. I survived on vegetables until my father almost believed his only child had become a vegetarian.
---
It was hard to starve myself like that, especially since I used to love eating when my mother was still alive and healthy. Back then, I ate whatever I wanted and never cared about how I looked. The insults and cruel jokes didn't bother me. What were they, anyway? They would squirm when I glared at them, get furious when I ignored them, or accuse me of things I never did just to get me out of their sight. They hated how my presence stole everyone's attention wherever I went — in school, at home, anywhere.
Most children are depressed, broken, rude, or disrespectful. It all depends on the environment they're raised in — whether it's school, a place they call home, or even the streets. The funniest part is that many children raised on the streets turn out far better than those raised in so-called proper homes.
Many children commit suicide or end up killing their parents because of the way they were raised. Why doesn't society treat this as a serious matter? Well, not that I care.
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A stunning, graceful ballerina with long, flowing black hair tied with delicate black ribbons stood en pointe in the middle of the empty ballet room, captured mid-dance in an elegant pose. One arm was gracefully raised above her head, the other extended outward. She wore a shimmering black-and-white tutu with a floral-embellished corset bodice, layered ruffled skirt, and pointe shoes.
The ballet studio at Seiran Academy of Arts — an elite co-ed school for boys and girls — was grand and princess-like, with rich white and gold walls adorned with cherubs and heart emblems.
Omi stood quietly by the doorway, watching Yurina continue practicing long after everyone else had left. She admired her in silence. She admired the girl known as Miss Perfect in their school. Omi knew Yurina constantly faced jealousy and hostility from other students, but she kept her admiration hidden to avoid complications. As the only daughter in a wealthy family with five older brothers and a young father, both she and her mother were treated like fragile gems that had to be protected at all costs. Getting involved in any drama would only make things worse — her most aggressive brother would go as far as killing someone for her sake. That was why Omi avoided befriending anyone or getting entangled in other people's affairs. Sometimes, silence truly was the best answer. Keeping quiet and staying alone was the safest way to protect herself and her family.
"Yuri…?"
Yurina stopped dancing at the sound of Omi's soft voice.
"Water…" Omi offered, stretching out her hand with a bottled water.
They were the same age — sixteen, just like Ren and Shiharu. Seventeen. Only a few months apart.
Yurina stared at her emotionlessly, quietly contemplating whether to accept it. A simple conversation could spread rumors around school by tomorrow. But there was no one else here, so… it should be fine, right?
She took the bottled water and set it aside, then gracefully sank into a full split on the tiled floor, stretching her body. Her long black hair fell flawlessly over her smooth, tanned bare shoulders, with a few strands messily framing her face in an unintentionally attractive way.
"It's 5 PM. School will close in thirty minutes," Omi said, placing a key with a pearl-opal holder beside the water bottle. "Here are the keys. Lock the ballet room when you're done. I'll be heading out now."
Yurina listened but continued practicing without pause. She didn't turn around or respond. She only breathed a quiet sigh of relief when she heard the door close behind Omi. Then she stood, tied her hair into a neat ponytail, and resumed.
Yurina moved with impossible grace, like a mature woman far beyond her sixteen years. She saw through people's intentions easily and never craved affection unless it came from her mother. She was abnormal in more ways than one — her singing voice could do more than lull someone to sleep, and she saw ghosts everywhere she went, even in her own room. When they disturbed her at night, she would pull the sheets over her head and sing herself to sleep.
"Cover your ears, my daughter. Cover your eyes and think of something good. There, there. Sing, and you'll fall asleep soon. You're a siren… a beautiful one. My daughter."
A siren — a being whose power lies in her voice. They could be human, mermaid, goddess… anyone. After her mother's death, Yurina stopped singing entirely. Not out of fear that others would find out, but because there was no one left worth singing for — except herself and her dead mother.
Her father, who knew she was a siren, never tried to use her ability for his own gain. His daughter barely spoke to him. She would sometimes mutter a greeting, but never started a conversation. Whenever he tried, she would make excuses or do something silly to escape his presence. He never knew she was being mocked and insulted at school. When he finally found out, he used his high position to bring down most of the school authorities as punishment for turning a blind eye. Many students who had pointed fingers at her or insulted her were expelled.
Yurina never understood that kind of fierce affection. She was transferred to another school — her current one. When Mei challenged her and poured lunch on her during break, Yurina did nothing but glare at her with such cold intimidation that Mei recoiled in fear. She never reported any of it to her father. Perhaps she didn't want him to worry, or perhaps she simply didn't care. Whatever the reason, it was clear she felt nothing. Mei was later expelled after being made a mockery of, and ever since then, no one dared bother Yurina to her face. They talked behind her back, but never directly. As the top achiever in every aspect, she received the respect she deserved and was awarded accordingly.