Performance and Audience

It began on the first day of the second semester, Monday, September 2nd,2052. In an ordinary classroom, students were chatting about what they’d done during summer break. Amid the talk of trips and festivals, everyone hinted at one topic while glancing at the new desk in the back. Rumors and gossip were already spreading, but none was as outlandish as the reality that eventually walked in. The first thing anyone noticed was her bangs. Drooping over her eyes like a curtain, they managed to hide her eyes, but not the deep sunken bags under them. With a sloppily tied handkerchief, a shirt only half tucked, and mismatched socks, her uniform looked ancient despite being brand new. She didn’t so much walk as shuffle like a zombie from the door to the podium to make her introduction.

“My name is Ozaki, Kasumi,” she said, voice cracked and strained like an atrophied muscle. “I move a lot due to my mother’s work, so let’s cut to the chase. I don’t plan on making any friends, so don’t bother talking to me. I’m sure I’ll transfer again by the end of the year anyway.” With those words, she gave the slightest bow possible and stepped down from the teacher’s podium. She wove through her classmates’ desks, making her way to the open seat in the back, never looking up from her shoes. Once she’d flopped into her seat, her school bag on one side and her hand on the other, she blocked herself off as much as possible. She radiated an air that said, “don’t look at me,” in a tone that was simultaneously a harsh threat and a pathetic plea.

That was enough to keep most students at bay. During breaks and lunch, few dared even to glance at her. Face buried in folded arms, she scarfed down the milk tea and melon bread she’d brought for lunch. Kasumi barely registered a timid voice calling, “Excuse me.” It took three calls before she realized the person was speaking to her. The voice was soft and high-pitched. Realizing it wasn’t a teacher, she resolved to remain still as a stone, not even breathing. This was her final line of defense; though she’d fine-tuned her presentation to make it unthinkable that anyone would approach her, as months went by, someone would eventually find the gall to try. She knew what kind of nerves it took to approach her; she knew whoever dared must be running low on initiative, so if she just ignored them, they’d go away and never try again. Despite her display, the person never stepped away. Kasumi felt their eyes on her until the warning bell rang. Even then, she felt the person set something on her desk and scurry away. Kasumi waited a moment before looking up. When she did, there sat a carton of milk tea on her desk, the same kind she’d been drinking.

*SKREE*

Her chair nearly tipped backward as she launched to her feet. She clenched the box with all her might, feeling the cardboard almost burst in her hand. She rushed to the trash can near the back and spiked it as hard as she could. The small metal can wobbled from the impact, rattling as she felt every eye on her. She returned to her seat without looking up.

“That should do it,” she thought, pressing into the desk so hard she could’ve left an indent in the wood. Given her chronic transfers and winning personality, she’d been no stranger to bullies. It didn’t matter if they were overt or subtle, if they used rumors or force, or even if they tried to act friendly at first. She knew when they approached because they were the only ones to approach. Given her demeanor and attitude, who else would? Nobody in their right mind would try to make friends with someone like that, so anyone who tried obviously had other motives. Best to leave them no opening at all.

As the day dragged on, she reaped the fruits of her performance. Nobody dared to look at her. Even the teachers skipped over her as they read down the rows of chairs. As the last bell rang, she skulked through the halls to the gate and onto the street. She sighed as if she’d held her breath the whole day, and her lips uncurled from the sharp, manicured frown to a more neutral slant. “I did it,” she cheered in her mind. “I avoided eye contact the whole day.”

The high carried her on her walk. Her muscles felt light, and her footfalls were far from sluggish stomps. The energy took her around the corner to a secluded bench in the bushes, technically off school grounds. She dared to believe her luck in finding it on her way into the school. Any worry she’d had about using up all her luck for the day had been dispelled by the euphoria of the moment. Her hand was rummaging in her bag before her skirt touched wood, her phone already opening her sole source of joy. The game’s soundtrack blasted in her earbuds as she watched the opening cinematic; most would’ve skipped it, but she never missed a chance to see her favorite character in action. Seeing her entrance always made Kasumi’s heart surge.

Arrows flew through a dust cloud, followed by a piercing blue stare as the dust settled. Standing strong and proud with a pair of chained blades in hand was Morii, Mona, or Momo-onee, as Kasumi had dubbed her. Her bright yellow hair was tied in a high ponytail; a torn white cloak partially covered a silk dress as blue as her eyes. She stood with one knee lifted high to hide what her miniskirt didn’t. Any number of things could’ve drawn Kasumi to her, but perhaps the biggest factor was the character's catchphrase written in glowing text above her head: “Chains linking, never binding.”

“Today’s finally the day, Momo-onee,” Kasumi cheered, opening the chat function. The feature enabled players to interact with a few characters and receive responses in their voices. Despite being a selling point for years, it was only now being expanded to tertiary characters, such as Mona. Kasumi’s hands trembled in anticipation as the loading screen spun, and spun, and spun some more. “Come on!” she lamented, raising the phone above her head, trying to get a better signal. She raised it higher and higher until she ripped her earbuds from her ears. It didn’t matter, so long as she did her update, but as the progress bar slowly inched forward, her newly opened ears detected a voice from behind.

“It’s not like that,” a voice whimpered, cracked, and on the verge of tears. Kasumi shrank back on instinct. The hairs on her neck shot to attention as goosebumps broke out like hives down her arms. She ducked down, considered crawling under the bench, then settled for just hunching over. She desperately hoped the voices, whoever they were, hadn’t seen her and strained to listen. “It’s just a misunderstanding,” the whining voice continued.

“Is it?” growled another, its harsh tone making Kasumi squirm. “Because from my perspective, it seems like you got two milk teas instead of the hot coffee I asked for.”

“I already told you the machine was out of hot coffee, and there was nothing I could do.”

“Then what about the milk tea? I know you didn’t try to offer that instead.”

“The machine gave me an extra, that’s all. I didn’t intend to get it.”

“It probably needed to get rid of it because nobody else drinks it,” suggested a new voice, smooth but no less cold than the growling one.

“I know, right? Who else would drink that slime? No wonder the new girl tossed it like that,” another cackled, witch-like.

Kasumi remained still as the voices mocked her and the whimpering voice. They eventually grew bored and walked away, reminding the first voice to bring the drinks next time or else.

Kasumi breathed a sigh of relief as the voices vanished into the distance. She sat up and was just about to plug her earbuds in and forget about the whole scene when someone sniffled behind her. Realizing at least one person was left, she panicked and bent so far forward she could peer through her legs and behind her. From there, she saw a single pair of legs under the bushes. They took a step closer, making Kasumi’s heart jump to her throat, before stopping at a school bag lying on the ground. A hand, a bracelet of knotted orange beads around the wrist, reached down to grab the bag. Kasumi heard the beads jingle, followed by words she couldn’t believe.

“Lord, hold not this sin against them. Pour out your loving blessing upon them as you do me, and withhold only your wrath. This I pray in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen.”

With that, the legs disappeared, scampering off without a trace, leaving Kasumi trembling. She pieced together that it was the same person who’d given her the milk tea earlier and that she herself was getting bullied. It was only natural that the strong bully the weak. There were only the strong and the weak; nobody was kind. Kindness was a lie the weak propagated in the hopes they could manipulate the strong or make themselves feel better about being weak. It was all a performance, one Kasumi always saw through. What scared her was that the group of bullies had already left; the street was deserted aside from her and the bullied girl. If she’d put on that performance, then Kasumi had been the only audience, which meant that girl had seen her. Kasumi remained doubled over, the fear making her stomach tumble and her throat gag. If someone could see her, even as she did her best to blend into the background, it meant they could come for her, and she wasn’t strong enough to protect herself.