Second Impact

It was lunchtime and the school hallways were filled with students. With a faint creak, Ayaka pushed open the classroom door. Her shoulders were slightly raised, as if she wished to go unnoticed. Outside, there was a flurry of activity, but as soon as she stepped through the door, the room fell silent in less than a second. An oppressive, tense silence wrapped around her like a shroud. Hesitantly, she placed one foot in front of the other, her gaze fixed firmly on the floor. Something wasn’t right. She walked over to her seat and then saw it. Frantically, she searched for her schoolbag.

It’s gone!? Where is it?!

She looked around desperately, seeking help from the faces of her classmates. Some turned away, others stood up and left the room, and a few wore expressions of pity. But no one said anything.

A room full of people was usually loud and hectic. But if not, and silence is all that remains, it can’t be good. All the time, classmates have something to talk about, no matter what. Daily topics about homework, TV shows or videogames. But now, they all remained silent.

Until a single sentence cut through the thick air like a knife.

“Looking for your bag?”

Ayaka flinched. She knew that voice. Naomi stood tall in front of her, flanked by Kameko and Mari. A mocking smile twisted Naomi’s face, full of arrogance and superiority.

“We thought we’d help you out and decided your bag could use a wash. With all the filth clinging to you, it was necessary.”

The three girls burst into laughter.

Ayaka swallowed. Her voice was soft, unsure, almost breaking as she asked, “W-Where is it?”

Her fingers dug into the hem of her skirt, hoping for a simple answer. Hope was everything she had right now, clinging to it desperately. But she had a feeling that her hope was in vain.

“What did you say?” Naomi asked mockingly, cupping a hand to her ear as if she hadn’t heard.

Ayaka looked down again, her throat dry. “I-I…”

The word stuck in her throat, not able to say something. A wave of emotions inside her. A mixture she couldn’t describe, but nothing good. That’s for sure. Before she could finish, Naomi’s expression darkened. Her brow furrowed, and suddenly she slapped Ayaka on the back of her head. A throbbing pain spread instantly.

“When you speak to me, do it loudly and clearly. And keep that ugly face out of my sight.”

She stared at the ground, unable to look at them. Mari, Kameko, and Naomi laughed loudly. Ayaka bit her lip. She felt the eyes of the class on her, felt her heartbeat racing uncontrollably.

“W-Where is it?” she repeated, louder now, but still trembling.

Naomi scoffed and crossed her arms. It took a second before she answered, clearly enjoying the sight. “Who knows… maybe you’ll find it on your next trip to the bathroom.” Her voice was full of disdain.

“Ah! One more thing. Keep your damn head down low. I can’t stand that thing you call your face!”

In an instant, Ayaka turned and ran out of the classroom. All that remained was loud laughter and mocking voices, fading as she fled. Her footsteps echoed down the hallway. Everything inside her screamed for escape. Out, just away. It didn’t matter where. Like a prey surrounded by predators.

Predators, equipped with everything they need to hunt. They needed to hunt in order to survive. And in the end, someone gets killed. No claws, no bites. Just words. Those were enough. And the pain would be still the same. Run.

That’s everything she could do right now…

Like prey.

She stormed into the girls’ restroom. The buzzing of the ceiling lights, the cold tiles, and the smell of cleanser filled the air. She scanned the room and quickly noticed water seeping from under the last stall. She already knew what had happened, or rather, why water had overflowed.

She was lucky no one else was in the restroom. Probably because classes were about to begin. One of the mirrors had a crack in the left corner. It had been there for ages. Sometimes you could find little, barely readable writings on the inside of the doors. Nobody cared too much about them.

Hesitantly, she pushed the door open and saw it.

Her bag.

Soaked and dripping wet, it had been shoved violently into the toilet.

Something inside her collapsed.

She didn’t move, as if fused to the floor. Her fingers dug into her sleeves as she hugged herself, trembling. A lump formed in her throat, heavy as a stone.

She stood there, completely alone, yet trying desperately to keep her face composed. At least what remained of it.

Why…?

Why me? Again and again? It never stops!

Looking at the bag, she felt like she was staring at herself. Discarded, filthy, worthless.

What did I do wrong?

That question had haunted her for months now, like a shadow hovering above her, a constant companion.

Am I the problem? Do I not belong here?

One thought spiraled into the next, an inescapable flood. A dense web of doubt and shame.

Ayaka used to believe school was a place to make friends, have fun, learn, and overcome challenges together. In her second year of middle school, she could hardly wait to attend high school. Studying with friends, complaining about tests, having sleepovers, and going to festivals together.

But now, for her, school had become a place where you get eaten alive. Slowly, without even noticing, you lost yourself in society. You saw reality for what it was. If you had no value, you didn’t deserve a place and barely a day passed without her being reminded of that.

Tears burned in her eyes, but she blinked them away, afraid of looking even more pathetic than she already felt.

Not here. Not now. I have to hold on…

And yet the pressure inside her grew, screams telling her to disappear.

The bag in front of her became more than just a piece of fabric. It was a mirror. One that showed her how worthless her existence truly was. She dripped to the ground. Her knees soaking with water from the toilet.

Overwhelmed by her emotions, she didn’t notice the steady rhythm of footsteps approaching.

***

Takeshi stood in the doorway, hands in his pockets, surveying her from head to toe. The scent of cleaning solution and stagnant water hung in the air.

No visible injuries. Cognitive presence diminished. Emotional stability unknown. Signs of incapacitation clear.

Takeshi’s thoughts were brief and precise. As he had been trained. He believed that in any crisis, defined differently by everyone, there was no room for unnecessary thoughts. What mattered was the ability to act. Observe, evaluate, act. Those where the steps to follow. If you are not in panic, of course. That’s what was needed now.

“Ikehara-san,” he said in a calm but firm voice.

She flinched slightly but said nothing, didn’t even look at him. Still frozen.

With steady steps, Takeshi walked to the stall. He already knew what he would find. He decided not to interact at first. She was in shock. If he did it wrong she would panic, unable to grab a clear thought.

Without hesitation, he reached for the bag. He felt the filthy water seep through his gloves. Kneeling down, he unzipped it and began opening the soaked notebooks. Page by page. The ink had blurred into gray-blue smudges, the pages dripping, some already falling apart.

“Guess these can be thrown away…” Takeshi sighed quietly.

Just a plain assessment. This was her whole progress of the new school year. Everything gone. In her position, it would be difficult to get new ones. No interacted with her, nor did she.

Ayaka hadn’t moved. Her eyes followed his movements, as if watching a film she couldn’t comprehend.

“What… are you doing?”

Her voice was trembling, fragile, barely more than a whisper.

Takeshi ignored her, flipping through more pages. Most of the writing was unreadable, the notebooks essentially useless. Some pages stuck together, tearing or falling out at the slightest touch.

“Please… don’t get your hands dirty. You don’t have to do this!” Ayaka’s voice echoed against the cold tiles, sounding like a quiet whimper. Takeshi sensed a tinge of panic.

He noticed her hands twitching slightly, as if she wanted to stop him. Unfazed, Takeshi stacked the contents of the bag on the floor beside him.

Neither of them spoke now and only the faint buzzing of the fluorescent lights could be heard. Ayaka’s gaze dropped again, lost in thought.

That should be all. Notes are unusable. Rewrite necessary.

Takeshi paused. His expression blank and indifferent.

“Get up. Wash your stuff at the water faucet behind the gym.” His words sounded more like a command.

No reaction. Not surprising. Psychological strain can cause paralysis. I’ll have to assist.

Takeshi looked at her. Still unmoving, she sat on the cold floor. He stepped next to her and hesitated for a moment. Unsure if he should, but in the end, he grabbed her upper arm, and pulled her to her feet.

Wow, she’s light. Way too light. Her arm feels like… a toothpick. Malnutrition. Typical for someone in her situation. She needs to eat more.

Ayaka flinched from the sudden pull. The warmth of his hand supporting her. Wide-eyed, she looked at him as she regained her balance.

“When you’re done, go to the teachers’ office. Ask for Shizuka Maki and get a notebook and pen. I’ll handle the rest.”

Notes were most important. They were the backup-system of a student’s brain, the structure of a day and the first step towards learning. Once they’re lost, you have to rely on others.

She looked at him, straight in the eyes, like she didn’t understand what he said. Then her gaze fell back on the bag. A pause, followed by a small nod, hesitant.

Good, she understood. Time to go.

With the wet notebooks under his arm, Takeshi left the girls’ restroom and left Ayaka behind. As soon as he stepped through the doorway, he felt the temperature slightly begin to rise back to normal.