Chapter 1: A Normal Student

I’ve always been the quiet one. The modest student. Good grades, no trouble. I do what I’m told. Stay out of the way. Teachers like me. Parents forget me. And bullies? They don’t even know my name. I wear my invisibility like armor, cold and weightless. I’ve never been the hero.

But I’ve never been the victim either.

I sit near the back of the classroom, my desk a forgotten island in a sea of noise. The smell of cheap disinfectant lingers in the air, mixing with the stale scent of damp coats and old papers. The fluorescent lights buzz faintly overhead, casting everything in a dull, sickly glow.

Today is no different. Another day of turning pages and biting my tongue while the world collapses around me.

Across the room, a boy named Kenji stares at his desk, his face pale and drawn. There’s a fresh welt on his cheek, red and swollen. I saw how he got it this morning—when they slammed him against the lockers, again and again, like a puppet whose strings had snapped. No one stopped it. Not even the teacher.

We just keep our heads down.

Even now, I can hear them—those same three boys, the ones who found joy in that girl’s tears earlier. They sit near the front, their voices low but sharp, muttering to Kenji as the teacher drones on about history. Their words twist like knives, cruel and deliberate.

“Nice bruise, Kenji. Looks like someone’s clumsy.”
“Maybe he likes it. Maybe he wants more.”
“Think anyone would care if he just disappeared?”

Kenji’s hands tremble, clutching his notebook like it’s the only thing tethering him to the world. He doesn’t look up. He never does. I wonder what it’s like to be so broken that you don’t even flinch anymore.

The teacher’s voice rises and falls like background static, oblivious. He’s seen it. They all have. But they don’t do anything. They never do. The system is a machine, and it’s not built to protect people like Kenji. Or that girl. Or anyone else who can’t fight back.

I keep my eyes on my notes, my pen moving automatically across the page. But I’m not writing. I’m thinking.

If I had the power, what would I do? Would I save them?

Or would I let the wolves burn?

My throat tightens. I shouldn’t think like that. I’m a good student. A quiet, harmless boy.

A loud thud snaps me from my thoughts. Kenji’s notebook hits the floor, and one of the boys kicks it across the room, laughing under his breath. Kenji doesn’t move to retrieve it. He just sits there, staring straight ahead, hollow.

I glance at the clock. Five more minutes until the bell.

Five more minutes of watching and pretending it doesn’t matter.

I wonder if Kenji will still be here tomorrow. I wonder if it would even make a difference if he wasn’t.

The bell rings, shrill and merciless, cutting through the tension like a blade. Chairs scrape, students shuffle. The bullies leave first, their laughter echoing in the hall. Kenji doesn’t move. Neither do I.

One day, I tell myself again.

One day, I’ll do something.

But not today.