Chapter 5: — "F for FUCK YOU SENSEI!"

I had barely slept.

Every time I shut my eyes, Arai’s dumbass face flashed behind my eyelids, arms flailing, slipping off that rooftop like some tragic slapstick cartoon.
Great. Another death on my conscience. And not even a meaningful one.

By the time I reached the school gates, my head felt stuffed with wet sand.

The AR attendance scanners blinked awake the moment I stepped forward. A thin blue grid swept across my face, flickered green, and a cheerful synthesized voice chirped:

“Good morning, Naomi Katsumi! Homeroom starts in... You are late.”

Yeah. No shit.

Students streamed around me, buzzing with pointless chatter, hair mods, holo-trends, who was dating a virtual idol this week. Their retinal displays flickered with bright overlays, pop-up windows bouncing like neon soap bubbles across their eyes.

Mine stayed empty.
Just like the rest of me.

When I pushed into the classroom, the entire front wall blossomed into an AR lecture display, layers of diagrams, animated notes, glowing formulas floating in slow, educational chaos. My retinal implant synced automatically, text sliding into place in my vision, neat and unobtrusive.

I barely processed any of it.

I dropped into my seat. The chair recognized my weight and projected my personal screen, normally, it would show my schedule, maybe an annoying inspirational quote.

Today, it flickered twice and showed nothing.

Perfect.
I didn’t want anything.

The teacher’s voice droned on about something, Historical Geo-Politics of Post-Expansion Asia, maybe. Or algebra. Or the impact of global warming on pre-colonization trade routes. Everything sounded distant, muffled, like someone speaking through aquarium glass.

My gaze drifted to the window.
The sky outside was too bright. Too peaceful.
The world had the audacity to look normal.

Arai’s stupid, grateful smile flashed in my mind again.

The way he thanked me like I’d saved him…
and then slipped…
and then—

My jaw clenched so hard my teeth clicked.

I should’ve grabbed him harder. Braced him differently. Something.

Then a notification blinked at the top of my vision.

SENSEI: Naomi, step outside with me for a moment.

Her voice followed instantly:

“Naomi? I need a word. Outside.”

Half the class turned to look.

Some pity.
Some annoyance.
Some straight-up amusement.

Whatever.

I stood, my chair hissing as it retracted its display. My footsteps echoed way too loudly as I crossed the room, the overlays dissolving behind me like colored dust.

I didn’t have the patience for this shit.

She waited in the hallway, arms crossed, tablet tucked under her elbow, her disappointed-teacher-face radiating pure judgment. The AR lighting pulsed soft pink, supposedly “calming mode,” but it only made my headache pound harder.

“Naomi,” she said, voice soft but tight, “this is becoming a pattern.”

She tapped her tablet.

A holographic score materialized between us, glowing red like a crime scene warning:

F — BELOW STANDARD

I stared at it without blinking.

She exhaled slowly. “Naomi… you’ve failed the last three assessments. And the year before that. And the year before that.”

Silence from me.

“And you’re twenty,” she continued. “You should’ve graduated two years ago. I don’t want to see you repeat this year again.”

I shrugged one shoulder. “Mm.”

It wasn’t even a word. But it was all she was getting.

Her eyebrows knit together. “Naomi, this is serious. Your future is at stake.”

My future?

Right.
My future involved chasing down the bastard who killed my brother, not passing whatever AR history quiz she thought mattered.

She stepped closer. “Are you even trying?”

Trying?
I had tried to choke a man to death twelve hours ago.
So no, her stupid test wasn’t exactly top priority.

But I just muttered, “I don’t know.”

She collected another sigh, she was practically building a set.

“Look… I’m worried about you.” Her voice softened. “You look exhausted every day. You’re distracted. And your smile-score is dangerously low—”

There it was.
The damn smile-score.

Heat flared in my chest. I forced my expression to stay flat.

She gestured to the floating red F. “If you keep spiraling like this, Naomi, the Wellness Committee will intervene. You don’t want that.”

Yeah…
That “F” should stand for “FUCK YOU,” actually.

Not that I said it.
But the thought alone could’ve set her tablet on fire.

She dropped the projection slightly, her expression easing. “Just… try, okay? I’m not your enemy.”

Wrong.
Everyone was my enemy.
They just didn’t know it.

She turned to leave. “Come in when you’re ready.”

The classroom door slid shut behind her.

The hologram flickered back into place, my bright red failure floating like a taunt.

I stared at it, numb.

Then I reached forward and swiped.
The projection dissolved.

She’d printed a physical copy, too, actual paper, rare and expensive. She must really have believed this would motivate me.

I crumpled it.
Walked to the nearest trash bin.
Dropped it in.
And walked away.

The bathroom was cold. Quiet. Dimmer than the hallways.

I pushed into the last stall and locked it. The metallic click sounded too loud in the tight space.

Soft AR graffiti floated above the stall walls, preset student overlays, neon hearts, glowing signatures, and someone’s annoying joke:

KEEP SMILING OR GET FILED FOR REVIEW!

Cute.
If I weren’t on the verge of crying or screaming.

I sat on the closed toilet lid and took out my phone.
My hands were shaking.
I hated that I couldn’t stop them.

I opened my gallery.

Even the tiny thumbnail hurt.

I tapped it.

The photo filled the screen, me as a kid, too small for my own clothes, clinging to Itsuki’s shirt like a barnacle. He had one arm around me, the other hand making bunny ears behind my head. I looked happy.
He looked alive.

My throat tightened instantly.

“I… I miss you, Oniichan…” The whisper scraped out, barely a sound.

Tears blurred my vision before I could stop them, hot, quick, humiliating. I wiped them away hard, like the act itself made me weak.

Crying didn’t bring him back.
Didn’t give me answers.
Didn’t kill the monster who took him from me.

Rage rose, sharp and acidic.

I stared at the photo until my eyes stung.

“Yamaguchi…” I hissed. “Whoever you are… I’ll tear you apart. Rip your fucking organs out, I’ll—”

My voice cracked. The rest jammed in my throat like shattered glass.

A single broken sound escaped me, half-sob, half-growl. I slapped a hand over my mouth instantly, forcing everything else down. Swallowing tears like poison.

My body shook anyway.

I curled forward, phone pressed to my forehead, breath stuttering in and out. Grief and fury tangled together so tightly I couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began.

I hated this feeling.
Hated myself for feeling it.
Hated the world for giving me reasons to.

But I couldn’t stop.

Wouldn’t stop.

Not until Yamaguchi’s blood painted the ground.

My phone screen dimmed.
The photo faded toward black.

I stared at it one last time… then closed it.

The stall went silent again, except for the slow hum of the lights overhead, the sound of my breathing, and the faint echo of a promise I had carved into myself so deeply it hurt:

I will find you.
And I will end you.