Chapter 17: “The Plan That Failed”

By the next day, the school felt different.

The air was thick with embarrassment instead of excitement.

Whispers were softer now—heavy, guilty, almost afraid.

At lunch, students avoided meeting Touko Nishima’s eyes.

They didn’t gather in clusters the way they had the day before.

They scattered as if she carried something contagious.

A boy muttered near the shoe lockers, “Wait… that was her dad?”

Another groaned, “Man, we messed up bad.”

A girl tugged her friend’s sleeve. “We shouldn’t have shared it. It wasn’t even true.”

The rumor collapsed on itself in real time.

All the noise Rurika had created the day before turned into nervous silence.

Touko didn’t react to any of it.

She walked through the hallway calmly, her lunch box tucked against her chest.

Her steps steady.

Her expression unreadable.

Himari hovered beside her, protective and anxious, as if Touko might suddenly break.

Hiromiya trailed behind them like a guard, glaring at anyone who whispered.

But Touko didn’t seem bothered.

Only one person looked like she was falling apart.

Rurika.

She stood by the classroom door, arms crossed tightly, jaw clenched.

Every time she looked at Touko, something sharp flickered in her eyes—shame, anger, and humiliation all tangled together.

It was the look of someone whose plan had backfired so badly it left burns.

---

Touko carried her tray to the courtyard.

She sat under her usual tree, smoothing her skirt and opening her bento neatly.

The courtyard wasn’t as loud as usual.

People kept glancing over, then looking away quickly.

Touko ate quietly, chopsticks moving with slow precision.

Halfway through lunch, she stopped.

She didn’t gasp.

Didn’t flinch.

Didn’t check her phone.

She simply lifted her head.

Turned it slightly.

Eyes settling on one person across the yard.

Rurika.

Touko didn’t glare.

She didn’t look triumphant.

She looked… aware.

As if she was observing a bird that flew too close.

Rurika’s breath hitched, and she looked away instantly.

But Touko didn’t stop looking.

Her smile crept up softly—small, polite, gentle.

A smile that felt like a warning.

A smile that said without words:

I know.

Rurika squeezed her lunch chopsticks so hard they snapped.

---

The rest of the day dragged.

Rurika tried to focus on class.

Tried to act normal.

Tried not to feel Touko’s calm presence glowing just a few desks away.

But every time Touko scribbled notes, every time her pen tapped the desk, every time her hair shifted against her collar, Rurika felt the sting of her own failure.

Touko had destroyed the rumor without lifting a finger.

Without raising her voice.

Without confronting anyone.

She had smiled and said one word: “Papa.”

A perfect defense.

A perfect dismissal.

No one doubted her.

No one questioned her.

No one cared about the post anymore.

Rurika felt like she’d punched a cloud.

Nothing worked.

Nothing stuck.

And Touko kept smiling like nothing touched her.

---

When the final bell rang, everyone packed up.

The teacher clapped her hands.

“Before you all leave, I’m posting the cleaning groups for this week.”

Students groaned.

A few whined about wanting to go home early.

The teacher taped the sheet to the board.

Rurika didn’t care who she got paired with.

Anyone would be fine—

Until she read the list.

East Hallway:

Rurika Hanabusa . Touko Nishima.

Her stomach dropped.

Touko stood a few feet away, reading the same words.

She bowed lightly.

“Yes, sensei.”

Rurika’s throat felt dry.

She tried to approach the teacher.

“T-Teacher, actually, I—I have club work today—"

“You can finish cleaning first,” the teacher replied cheerfully. “It won’t take long.”

No escape.

Rurika looked at Touko.

Touko looked back.

Not with anger.

Not with smugness.

Just steady, unblinking calm.

And that was worse.

---

They walked down the east hallway with mops and buckets.

The sunlight from the windows stretched long shadows across the floor.

Touko tied her hair back, a small ribbon glinting in the light.

She washed the mop head calmly, humming under her breath.

A soft, sweet tune.

Rurika swallowed hard.

They worked in silence for a while.

Rurika scrubbed the floors faster than necessary, desperate to finish early.

Her hands shook.

Touko finished her portion neatly and stood beside Rurika, holding the bucket.

“You missed a spot,” Touko said.

Her voice wasn’t rude.

Not mocking.

Just observant.

Rurika forced a laugh. “I—I know. I’m getting it.”

Touko crouched beside her.

Her shadow overlapped Rurika’s.

Then Touko whispered,

“That was a very good photo.”

Rurika froze.

Touko dipped her sponge into the water, still smiling.

“You caught me from a pretty angle. And Papa looked handsome too.”

Rurika felt her lips tremble.

“I didn’t— You don’t know I—”

Touko tilted her head.

Her smile was soft enough to pass as kindness.

“I know.”

Rurika’s heart thudded painfully.

Then Touko pulled a folded printout from her pocket.

A picture.

Rurika’s blood ran cold.

It was her.

Years ago.

Wearing an idol outfit that no child should have been forced into.

Standing beside a man with greasy hair—her stalker.

The reason she had to transfer schools.

The trauma her family tried to erase.

“How— How do you have that?” Rurika whispered.

Touko’s expression didn’t change.

“If you ever think about Papa again,” she murmured,

“I’ll kill you.”

Rurika dropped her sponge.

Her breath crumpled into tiny, shaking gasps.

Touko smiled.

Quiet.

Gentle.

Like she was giving a promise.

Then she stood up.

“We should finish cleaning.”

Rurika couldn’t move.

Touko Nishima walked away, humming again.

Her steps light.

Her ribbon swaying.

Perfect.

Untouchable.

And terrifying.