Chapter 24: — “Eyes in the hallway” — (Season 1 Episode 10)

The first rays of sunlight spilled across the school courtyard.

They should have been comforting.

But to Mika, they felt sharp, like they were cutting through the thin layer of calm she had been clinging to since the death game. Her fingers tightened around the straps of her backpack. Her stomach twisted. Every familiar stone path, every gate, every flag flapping lazily in the wind seemed… different.

“Hey, Mika! Over here!”

Miyuki’s cheerful voice cut through her thoughts. Mika looked up. There they were — Miyuki and Sakura, waving frantically at her from the gate.

“We’ll walk with you today,” Miyuki said, sliding her arm through Mika’s. “Can’t let anything happen to you, right?”

Mika forced a smile. “Uh… okay,” she said, trying to sound casual.

Sakura walked on her other side, silent, her eyes scanning the crowds of students with quiet intensity. The two girls flanked her like sentries, their presence comforting and suffocating all at once.

Mika tried to breathe slowly, pretending everything was normal.

But nothing felt normal.

The courtyard was filled with students, but she felt alone.

Every laugh sounded too loud. Every shout was too sharp. Every glance felt like it could pierce her chest.

As they walked, Mika noticed the stares.

Not harsh or cruel stares. Just… lingering. Curious. Watching. Whispering, without words.

Her heart picked up its pace.

A locker slammed behind her. The sound echoed through the empty hallway. Mika jumped, gripping her bag.

“Oh my gosh!” she whispered.

“Relax,” Sakura said calmly. “Just a locker. Nothing more.”

Mika nodded, though her chest was still tight. Her gaze drifted down the corridor.

Another student passed by, bumping into her shoulder slightly. Mika stumbled, almost letting out a yelp.

“Careful,” Miyuki whispered sharply, grabbing her arm.

“I’m fine,” Mika said, though the tremor in her voice betrayed her.

She looked at Sakura. The girl’s eyes were scanning the hallway, alert and watchful, her expression unreadable.

Mika swallowed hard.

Why did it feel like danger was following her?

Even the walls seemed different, shadows stretching longer, corners darker.

A folded paper fluttered to the ground. Mika bent down to pick it up, expecting mischief.

It was only a math note.

Still, she flinched.

By the time she reached her classroom, she was nearly trembling.

Riku was already there.

He leaned against his desk, arms crossed, that same infuriating calm he always carried.

When he glanced at her, she felt her chest tighten. She wanted to ask him if he’d noticed the subtle shift in her… in everything.

But she didn’t.

He didn’t say a word.

Not a look, not a nod, not even the faintest acknowledgment.

Kenji, as usual, hovered behind him. A silent shadow. Ever-present. Protective. Slightly annoying.

Mika slid into her seat beside Sakura.

“Don’t worry,” Sakura whispered. “We’ll make sure nothing happens.”

Mika’s lips pressed together. “I… thanks.”

Her stomach twisted. She wanted to protest, to tell them she didn’t need protection.

But she couldn’t.

The morning dragged.

Teachers droned on. Students shuffled papers. Laughter echoed here and there. Mika tried to focus on her notebook, but her mind kept drifting back to the hallway, to the paper that fell, to the sharp slam of a locker, to the watchful eyes that never seemed to leave her.

During math class, a paper airplane slid across the aisle and landed at her feet. She picked it up.

A messy formula was scribbled inside.

“Homework?” she muttered under her breath.

Sakura glanced over. “Someone wants a friend, apparently.”

Mika laughed softly, a short, nervous sound.

“Or… a distraction,” Sakura added. Her voice was low, almost conspiratorial.

Mika’s stomach turned. Even small things now felt like potential threats.

“Maybe it’s nothing,” she whispered.

“Maybe,” Sakura agreed.

Riku, sitting across the room, seemed unconcerned. He doodled absentmindedly in his notebook, but occasionally glanced up, his expression unreadable.

Mika caught one of those glances and felt a shiver run down her spine.

Why did it feel like he could see straight through her?

Lunch came like a dull roar.

The cafeteria was packed. Students crowded around tables, their voices blending into an indistinct hum. Mika, Sakura, and Miyuki claimed a table near the back, away from the bustling crowd.

Riku and Kenji were across the room.

Mika found herself stealing glances. Riku laughed quietly at something Kenji said. Her chest tightened.

“Are you… okay?” Miyuki asked.

Mika nodded, but only barely.

She couldn’t tell them. Not now. Not about the unease, the shadow she felt everywhere, the tension in Riku’s silence.

Riku muttered under his breath to Kenji.

“You don’t have to babysit me, you know. I can handle myself.”

Kenji tilted his head, expression unreadable.

“You’re being watched. Might as well accept it.”

Even across the room, Mika felt the weight of that statement.

Her hands gripped her tray. She took a bite of rice, but the taste was gone.

“Don’t… look at him too much,” Sakura whispered, as if reading her thoughts.

“I… I can’t help it,” Mika said softly, her voice shaking.

Miyuki placed a comforting hand over hers. “It’s okay. Just… stay calm.”

She tried to take deep breaths, but the rhythm of her heartbeat seemed too loud. Too fast.

The rest of the afternoon passed in slow, measured steps.

Each door opening, each passing student, each sudden noise made her heart leap.

Even the teacher’s footsteps on the floorboards felt magnified.

“Pay attention, Mika,” the teacher’s voice broke through her haze.

“Yes, sensei,” she whispered, her eyes flicking back to the blackboard.

Sakura and Miyuki never left her side.

They whispered reminders, nudged her when she stared off, and shielded her when other students brushed past.

Even the smallest gestures now felt heavy, protective, intense.

By the final bell, Mika was exhausted.

Her legs ached from sitting tensely. Her arms were stiff from clutching her bag. Her mind felt crowded with tiny threats and noises she couldn’t control.

And all around her, life went on.

The school bell rang one last time, echoing through the empty hallways.

Mika exhaled shakily.

The weight of unseen eyes, the constant hovering, the quiet tension in the air, it followed her even as she packed her bag.

She felt small. Vulnerable. Exposed.

And yet… she wasn’t alone.

Sakura and Miyuki flanked her like ever-watchful sentries, unwavering and steady.

Her chest tightened in a strange combination of fear and relief.

The world was quiet again.

Too quiet.