Chapter 14: — "All my Fault..."

The courtyard that had once roared with noise now felt hollow.
The crowd slowly scattered, murmuring in uneasy voices as teachers arrived, trying to control the chaos. Lunchboxes lay forgotten in the grass, juice cartons tipped over, bread crushed under shoes.

Ayaka sat beside Sakura on the bench near the courtyard steps. Both girls were silent, too shaken to speak. Sakura’s hands trembled in her lap, her eyes fixed on the spot where Haruto had fallen moments ago. The image wouldn’t leave her mind.

She whispered, barely audible, “I-it's all my fault... he’s hurt… because of me.”

Ayaka turned quickly. “Hey, don’t say that.”

Sakura shook her head, tears spilling over. “It’s true… if I hadn’t been there... if I hadn’t—”

“It’s not your fault!” Ayaka interrupted, her voice tight. “It’s theirs. Keigo and his stupid friends. They did this.”

Sakura didn’t answer. Her throat felt tight, like the air itself refused to move.
The sound of sirens echoed faintly from beyond the school gates.
Her chest tightened.

Ayaka sighed, brushing back her hair. “Haruto shouldn’t have fought them. He just made it worse. If he’d stayed out of it—”

Sakura instantly snapped.
“SHUT THE FUCK UP!”

The courtyard froze again.
A few nearby students turned, startled.
Ayaka’s eyes widened, her lips parting.

Sakura’s voice cracked as she shouted again, trembling.
“Don’t you dare blame him! He... he was protecting me! You didn’t see his face, Ayaka… you didn’t see how scared he looked when Keigo hit me!”

Her words broke off, replaced by a sob she couldn’t hold back anymore.

Ayaka sat still for a long moment before reaching out carefully, resting a hand on Sakura’s arm. “...I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.”

Sakura didn’t respond. Her eyes were still locked on the courtyard, where staff members were hurrying toward the gate.

The sirens grew louder now.

Students began whispering again, their voices mixing like static.
“Is he really hurt that bad?”
“I saw blood on his shirt…”

Sakura pressed her palms against her ears, trying not to hear them.

Ayaka whispered softly, “Sakura… look.”

Sakura lifted her head, just in time to see the ambulance pull into the courtyard, red lights flashing across the school walls.

Teachers pushed through the sea of uniforms, shouting for everyone to step back. But no one really listened, not until the flashing red lights painted the walls of the main building and the ambulance doors swung open.

Sakura’s heartbeat pounded in her ears. The moment she saw the medics rushing toward the center of the courtyard, she froze.
No, no, please no…

Ayaka stood up beside her, eyes wide. “Sakura, wait—”

But Sakura was already walking forward, trembling, her legs feeling weak and heavy. She could barely breathe as she saw Haruto, pale, barely conscious, his uniform torn and stained with streaks of crimson.

Two medics lifted him carefully onto a stretcher. His arm dangled for a second before one of them tucked it against his side.

The air around Sakura went completely silent. She could hear only the faint beeping of medical equipment and the pounding of her own heart.

“Haruto…” she whispered. Then louder, her voice breaking,
“HARUTOOOO!”

Heads turned instantly.
Sakura tried to run toward him, but Ayaka grabbed her wrist. “Sakura, stop! You can’t—”

“LET ME GO!” she screamed, tears spilling freely. She pulled against Ayaka’s grip, almost falling in the process.

Haruto’s eyes flickered open for just a second. He didn’t speak, but his gaze drifted toward the noise, toward her.

That single glance broke her completely.
“Please… please don’t take him away,” she sobbed, her voice trembling. “Haruto, please, wake up! I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…”

Teachers hurried over as Sakura struggled against Ayaka’s arms, her voice echoing across the courtyard. One of them caught her shoulders before she could push through the crowd.

“Sakura, that’s enough! Stay back!”

“NO! P-Please. I need to see him!”

Her cries were raw, full of pain she didn’t even understand herself. The boy who once made her cry now made her cry again... but for a completely different reason.

The ambulance doors closed with a metallic thud.
The engine rumbled to life.

As the vehicle rolled toward the gate, Sakura’s knees gave out. She sank to the ground, her hands covering her face, sobbing uncontrollably.

Ayaka knelt beside her, speechless. All she could do was hold Sakura as she cried, whispering, “He’ll be okay… he has to be okay.”

But Sakura didn’t hear her.
Her world had shrunk down to the sound of that siren fading into the distance, and the empty space Haruto left behind.

—

The hallway outside the principal’s office was too quiet for a school that had just erupted in chaos. Only the faint hum of the air conditioner filled the silence, and the muffled, heated voices leaking through the office door.

Sakura sat on the wooden bench, knees tucked close to her chest. Her uniform was wrinkled, her face streaked with dried tears, and her hands trembled faintly in her lap. The fluorescent lights above made everything feel too bright, too sharp, like the world itself was punishing her for what had happened.

From behind the office door, her parents’ voices rose again.

“She just started here last week,” her father’s voice thundered, hard and furious. “And she’s already getting bullied and hit? What kind of school lets that happen?!”

The principal’s voice, calm, but clearly strained, replied, “We understand your concern, Minazuki-san, and we’re taking immediate disciplinary action. The students responsible—”

“Responsible?!” her mother cut in sharply, her voice trembling with outrage. “That’s not good enough! Our daughter was attacked! You call that discipline?!”

Sakura winced faintly, her fingers curling around the edge of her skirt. The words felt distant, muffled, like echoes from somewhere far away.

She should’ve cared.
She should’ve been angry, or at least afraid.

But all she could think about was Haruto.

His voice, raw with fury, yelling, “You’ll never touch her again.”
His body collapsing to the ground.
The look in his eyes, the one that didn’t hold cruelty anymore, but something else.

Her heart clenched painfully. She pressed her hands together in her lap and whispered under her breath, “It's all my fault... it's all my freaking fault! He's hurt... because of me!”

The arguing inside grew louder.

Her father’s voice rose again, filled with frustration:
“If your teachers can’t even watch the courtyard, what exactly are they doing all day?”

“Please Minazuki-san,” the principal said, trying to sound measured, “we’ve already suspended the students involved. We’re contacting their guardians—”

Her mother interrupted, voice cracking, “Suspended? SUSPENDED? Those boys should've been EXPELLED!! My daughter is hurt because of them! They beat up a poor boy and SENDED HIM TO THE HOSPITAL, and you're saying you suspended them?! What kind of school is this?!”

Sakura lowered her head. She could still feel the faint sting of her own cuts and bruises, the scrape on her knee, the dull ache in her shoulder, but none of it mattered. Not compared to the image of Haruto lying there, motionless, surrounded by the crowd.

Her vision blurred as new tears gathered in her eyes. She wiped at them weakly, but they wouldn’t stop.

Inside, her father’s voice grew cold. “I don’t care what procedures you’re following! If my daughter ever ends up like this again, I will go to the board.”

“Minazuki-san, please—”

“No. I’m done hearing your weak, ass excuses.”

Then came silence. A heavy, suffocating kind of silence that filled the entire hall.

Sakura slowly lifted her gaze toward the window at the end of the corridor. The late afternoon sun spilled through it, a soft, golden light that painted everything in a hue far too warm for what she felt inside.

Her reflection in the glass looked distant. Empty.

The office door opened with a hard click.
Her parents stepped out first, her father looking furious, her mother shaken but trying to hold herself together. The principal followed behind, her expression caught somewhere between guilt and exhaustion.

Sakura didn’t move.
She just sat there, small and quiet, as her mother knelt in front of her.

“Sakura, sweetheart,” her mother whispered, trying to meet her eyes. “Are you okay?”

For a moment, Sakura didn’t answer. Her throat felt tight, her voice trapped behind the weight of everything she wanted to say. Then she nodded, just once, barely enough to count.

Her mother sighed softly in relief and pulled her into an embrace.
But Sakura’s eyes didn’t close. They stared past her mother’s shoulder, unfocused, tears silently streaming down her cheeks.

She whispered into her mother’s shoulder, words too quiet for anyone else to hear:

“…I don’t care about myself. I just want him to be okay...”