Chapter 6: Ding-Dong, Your Life Is Over

It had been about ten minutes since I dragged Amamiya-san to the infirmary. Classes had already started, but of course I had to stay here with her. Babysitting duty, courtesy of my own temper. Nice going, Nagisa. Brilliant. Kick the new girl halfway across the hallway on her second day. Pat yourself on the back. You’re a genius.

I sat in the squeaky chair facing the bed where Amamiya-san was resting, my legs crossed, trying not to bite my nails. The room was silent—too silent. Not even the nurse was around.

Guilt gnawed at me. I’d gone too far. I knew it. She was small, delicate, practically breakable. And what did I do? Oh, I only delivered a roundhouse kick that could have ended her bloodline. Bravo, Nagisa. Truly inspirational. You’re like the model student version of domestic terrorism.

Just as I was about to drown in my own self-loathing, I saw her eyelids twitch. Slowly, those amber eyes flickered open, glowing faintly in the pale light.

“Uhh?” Her voice was soft, still weak. “Tanigawa-san... I didn’t expect you to still be here. I don’t know if it’s your duty as class representative... or if you were actually worried about me.” She gave this malicious little giggle, like a cat that had just pissed in your shoes.

Oh, for the love of—unbelievable. She wakes up from being punted across the school and the FIRST thing she does is mock me? Not a thank you, not an ‘ouch my ribs,’ just straight to psychological warfare. This gremlin is going to end me.

I forced myself to stand, smoothing my skirt like the perfect student I pretend to be. “Amamiya-san,” I said firmly, “I apologize for my behavior earlier. Violence is unacceptable. I understand completely if you’re angry. If you wish to report me, I’ll call the teachers myself and explain everything.”

There. Perfect. Saint Nagisa, halo polished. Meanwhile, my brain was screaming: Say you forgive me, say you forgive me, SAY IT BEFORE I STRANGLE YOU.

Her small hand shot out and grabbed the hem of my skirt, holding me in place.

“Wait, Tanigawa-san,” she said, suddenly serious. Not her fake, airy tone. Not her mocking lilt. Serious. “You know perfectly well I was provoking you on purpose. I have no intention of reporting you. Relax.”

I sat back down, staring at her like she’d just pulled the floor out from under me. I didn’t understand this girl at all. She was chaos in human form, and she was unraveling me piece by piece.

“What is it that you want from me?” I asked, my voice sharper than intended.

She tilted her head again, that doll-like expression returning, but there was something sly glinting behind her eyes. “Me? Hm... nothing. Not yet. Maybe just... to look at you.” She smiled, dreamy, fake-innocent, the kind of smile that hides knives.

Not yet?! NOT YET?! What do you mean ‘not yet,’ you little witch?! Why are you staring at me like that—stop it—STOP IT! You’re going to rot my brain, you silver-haired demon-spawn!

I clenched my fists in my lap, smiling on the outside, screaming on the inside.

I exhaled slowly, filling my lungs with patience I didn’t actually have. “Anyway, Amamiya-san,” I said, slipping seamlessly back into Perfect Student Mode. Halo on, angel wings out. “I think I owe you a proper apology. If there’s anything I can do for you, please tell me.”

“Mmmm...” Sora tilted her head, eyes drifting somewhere above me as if she was staring at clouds only she could see. Then she snapped back to reality—or her version of it. “Alright,” she said, voice soft but deliberate. “First of all, you’re going to call me by my first name. It would sound weird if you kept calling me Amamiya-san after telling the others we were childhood friends. Since we lied, at least make it believable.”

I blinked at her. Well. That’s... actually reasonable.

“Very well, Sora-chan,” I said with my brightest, most dazzling smile, the one that makes people swoon.

“Nagisa,” she said, testing my name on her tongue like it was candy. “I’ll call you by your name, too. But that’s not the important part.” Her amber eyes sharpened suddenly, like a cat about to strike. “What disgusts me is that you don’t act like yourself. I can understand wanting to be the model student in front of everyone. Fine. I accept that. But when we’re alone?” She leaned slightly forward, voice dropping into something almost commanding. “With me, you’ll stop acting. Deal?”

My face changed. Like a mask snapping into a new shape.

That little bitch wants to play with my real personality? Fine. Let’s play, whore. She’s about to shit herself, I thought, feeling a cold, dangerous grin creep up inside me.

I stood up. Fast. Smooth. Every inch of me switched from porcelain saint to something that smelled faintly of threat. “Alright, you fucking gremlin dressed like a doll,” I said out loud, my voice low and dangerous, the opposite of the syrupy tone I used for assemblies and charity drives. “You want me to act like myself around you? Great. Fine by me. But don’t come crying later because I’m too harsh, or because I say ugly things. I will never be your sweet little Nagisa when I’m with you. Deal, you bitch.”

***

Afternoon. Classes finally over. I was sliding my books into my bag, fantasizing about the sweet silence of home, when—of course—the flock came swarming over.

“Nagisa-chan, why didn’t you tell us you knew Amamiya from before? Childhood friends, really? That’s so unfair!”

Their voices tangled together like a chorus of crows. Peck, peck, peck at my sanity. I smiled. The perfect, warm, forgiving smile. “Oh, that? I just… didn’t think it mattered. I thought it would be better if everyone saw Amamiya-san as herself, not as my… friend. That way she can shine on her own, right?”

Inside my head: Shine? What is this, a shampoo commercial? God, kill me now.

They gasped like I’d just donated a kidney to charity. “You’re so thoughtful, Nagisa-chan!”

Yeah. Thoughtful. Or maybe manipulative. Same thing if you do it with a nice face.

Then came the inevitable. “Let’s go out after school! A café, karaoke, anywhere! You’re always so busy, we never get to—”

I laughed lightly, the kind of laugh that made teachers forgive late homework and boys write bad poetry. “Ah, I’d love to, really, but I can’t today. Family’s waiting. Next time, I promise.”

They pouted, whined, clung. Parasites. Sweet, dumb parasites. Do they ever think beyond their own shallow lives?

But my face said: Angel. Friend. Saint.

Eventually, they drifted away, still buzzing about plans without me. I stood there a moment, the mask burning on my skin, then finally walked out of the school.

Home was the only destination. Always was.

The second I opened the door, two rockets of energy slammed into me. “Onee-chan!” the twins shouted, their voices like bells cutting through the rot in my head. Himari, Yuzuki. My anchors.

And just like that, the performance shifted. Mask off, but a different one on—warmer, realer. I crouched to hug them, hair tickling their cheeks. “I’m home,” I murmured.

I slipped into my room, tore out of the suffocating uniform, and pulled on the comfort: loose shirt, sweatpants, something that didn’t scream “idol student.” In this skin, I could breathe. In this skin, I could just be the one who kept the house from collapsing.

I tied my hair back, ready to cook, clean, play caretaker. The girls’ laughter rang from the living room. For a second, it felt… almost safe.

Then—

Ding dong.

The doorbell.

Ding-dong.

Again? Seriously? Whoever it was had the patience of a mosquito.

“Nagisaaa!” the twins squealed from the living room. “Someone’s at the door!”

Ding-dong.

“I’m coming!” I yelled back, stomping toward the hallway.

Ding-dong.

“That’s it,” I muttered, my pulse spiking. “Who the hell pushes a doorbell like they’re trying to summon Satan?”

I yanked the door open, ready to unload verbal napalm. “What the actual—”

And there she was. Standing in my doorway, small and smug and silver-haired, the breeze catching her hair like some angelic shampoo commercial from hell. Her eyes sparkled with that double-edged light: half-cherub, half-demon spawn.

“It’s really easy to make you angry, Nagisa-chan,” Sora said, laughing, her voice sugar-sweet with a blade underneath. “Just the doorbell? Really? If you don’t watch that temper of yours, you’re never going to get married, you know?”

“And why the hell would I want to get married, you filthy brat?” I snapped, practically spitting the words into her perfect little doll face. “And what the hell are you even doing at my door? Who invited you, gremlin?” I jabbed my finger at her, exaggerated, like I was accusing her of murder.

Sora tilted her head, eyes drifting down and up my frame, utterly ignoring my fury. “This style of clothing suits you much better,” she said absently, like she was commenting on the weather.

My blood pressure hit the stratosphere. “Are you even listening to me, idiot?” I snarled, grabbing her by the collar, tugging her close just enough to make my point.

And then—ambush. Two small missiles launched themselves onto my back, giggling. My twin sisters.

“Who is it, who is it?” they squealed, clinging to me. “Is she a friend of yours, Onee-chan?” Their eyes sparkled like it was Christmas.

“Uh? Eh… no… she’s just a classmate—” I started, fumbling.

“Yes!” Sora cut me off, stepping forward like she’d rehearsed this. “I’m Nagisa-chan’s friend, and I came to play this afternoon. What do you think, shall we all play together?” Her smile was angelic, glowing, the kind of smile that probably sold poison to princes in fairy tales.

“Yaaay! Yaaay! Let’s play!” the twins chorused, already running off toward the living room without a second thought.

I stood frozen, my jaw slack. The little witch. She beat me to it. One move, and she’s stolen my sisters. Like some villain in a Saturday morning cartoon.

Sora’s hand landed lightly on my shoulder. Her voice dropped into a mockingly sweet register. “Shall we go, Nagisa oneee-chan?” she cooed, clearly enjoying herself.

Inside, my brain was screaming. I swear I’m going to strangle this fucking gremlin with my own uniform's bow tie.