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The morning of my return to school arrived sooner than I expected. Standing before the mirror in Apartment 402, I barely recognized myself. I wore the standard high school uniform, but with a few careful adjustments. I wore thick-rimmed glasses that obscured my eyes, and I let my hair fall naturally instead of the perfectly styled look. I looked like just another quiet, studious girl.
"Ready?" Arata asked, waiting for me in the hallway. He looked at me for a long moment, then nodded. "If I didn't know you, I'd probably walk right past you. You look like a regular high school student."
"That's the best compliment I've received in years," I whispered, gripping my bag tight.
As we walked through the school gates, I could feel the eyes on me. I heard the hushed whispers and saw a few students pointing. My heart hammered, but I kept walking.
Inside the classroom, the chatter died down the moment I stepped in. I walked straight toward my original seat. I sat down, the familiar wood of the desk feeling cold under my palms. Arata sat in his usual spot nearby, his presence a silent shield.
A few classmates looked at me with wide eyes, their expressions a mix of shock and curiosity. They had seen the news. They had seen me cry on screen and walk away from everything.
"Sayaka-chan..." a girl from the front row finally spoke up, her voice hesitating. "We... we all saw the stream. Are you really okay now?"
I looked up and gave her a small, sincere smile. "Yes. I'm finally where I want to be."
There were no cameras, no managers, and no scripts. Even though they knew my secret, they weren't swarming me for autographs. They seemed to understand that the girl sitting in front of them wasn't a star anymore—she was just their classmate who had finally come home.
The first period was Science. As the teacher began explaining the complexities of chemical reactions, the classroom settled into a familiar rhythm. I found myself focusing on the scratching sound of pens on paper and the soft rustle of pages turning. For a girl who had spent years in a world of make-believe and staged performances, focusing on the rigid, undeniable facts of science felt incredibly grounding.
During the short break between classes, the atmosphere grew tense again. I could feel several people wanting to approach me, but they hesitated, unsure of how to treat a former idol. Arata, sensing my discomfort, didn't leave his seat. He stayed right there, casually flipping through his notebook, acting as a silent shield for me.
Finally, a boy named Kenji, who was usually the loudest in class, walked up to my desk. He looked awkward, scratching the back of his head.
"Hey, Sayaka," he said, his voice unusually quiet. "I just... I wanted to say that what you did in that livestream was brave. Most of us just follow what we're told, but you actually stood up for yourself. Welcome back to the class."
One by one, others started to chime in. "We missed having you here, Sayaka-chan! The seat felt too empty." "If any reporters come bothering you at the school gate, just let us know. We'll handle them!"
I felt a lump in my throat. I had spent years surrounded by fans who worshipped an image, yet here were my classmates, protecting the real me. They weren't asking about the scandals; they were welcoming a friend back.
As the bell rang for the next period, I looked at Arata. He gave me a quick, reassuring smile before turning toward the blackboard. For the first time, the heavy weight of my past felt a little lighter. I wasn't 'The Nation's Angel' in hiding; I was just Sayaka, a high school student who finally belonged.
The rest of the school day passed in a blur of textbooks and quiet conversations. During the lunch break, instead of going to the crowded cafeteria, I found a quiet spot on the rooftop. I sat on the concrete floor, eating the simple lunch that had been prepared that morning. Arata was there too, but I was focused on the simple joy of having a meal without a camera pointed at me.
"I handled today better than I thought I would," I said, looking out over the city skyline.
"You did," Arata replied, looking at me. "Your presence made the classroom feel different today."
He just shrugged, but I could see a faint smile on his face. After lunch, I had a few more periods, including a challenging Math test. I actually enjoyed solving the problems; it was a relief to focus on logic instead of a script.
Finally, the bell rang, signaling the end of the school day. As I packed my bag, the usual chaos of students rushing out filled the hallways. I felt a sudden pang of anxiety as I approached the school gates. Would there be journalists waiting? Would someone recognize me outside the safe walls of the classroom?
Arata walked slightly ahead of me, and I made sure to stay close. I kept my head down, walking quickly. Luckily, there were no journalists in sight. To the world outside, I was just a high school student walking home. As I reached the familiar entrance of my apartment building, I felt a massive weight lift off my shoulders.
I stood in front of my door—402.
"I made it," I said, a genuine laugh escaping my lips.
"First day down," Arata smiled from his doorstep. "Get some rest, Sayaka. Tomorrow, you do it all over again."
As I stepped into my quiet apartment, I realized that for the first time in years, I wasn't exhausted from being a star. I was just tired from being a student. And it was the best feeling in the world.