It's Wrong After All

Quick heads-up:
( ) = Kaze's inner monologues

Takuya Kaze woke earlier than usual that morning, not because of discipline or motivation, but because of instinct. Experience had taught him that when things were quiet for too long, something irritating was bound to happen. As he stepped outside and opened the main gate, his unease proved justified immediately. Standing there with impeccable timing was his older sister, Takuya Yua, as radiant and shameless as ever, as if she had materialized solely to disrupt his routine. He tried to walk past her without acknowledging her presence, hoping to save himself from unnecessary interaction, but such an attempt was laughably futile. Yua, being Yua, spread her arms wide and wrapped him in a sudden embrace from behind, trapping him without warning.

“Yo! Kaze~ Ignoring your hot big sis again?”

“Aneki, this is not the time for this. I’m heading to school…”

“It’s not even 6:30 yet. You can still play with me for 56 minutes!”

“No…”

Kaze pushed her arms away with restrained effort, carefully prying himself free from her warmth, as though escaping would somehow restore order to his morning.

Yua released him without protest, clicking her tongue lightly as she leaned back with exaggerated disappointment.
“You walk? Want me to drive you there?”

“No, no need. That’s why I walk…”

“Brutal… ’kay then, good luck.”

“Yeah, bye.”

He replied half-heartedly and left without looking back. When he reached the corner of the street, he slowed his steps and paused, an unremarkable habit formed through repetition rather than conscious thought.

(Normally, if you keep walking straight, you’ll bump into someone.)

With that in mind, he raised his hand slightly toward the edge of the corner. Just as predicted, a soft impact followed as someone’s forehead collided with his palm, the timing precise enough to feel almost rehearsed.

He withdrew his hand and stepped forward, finally revealing himself. Standing in front of him was a girl with short black hair, frozen in surprise.

(…No way.)

She lifted her head, and the moment their eyes met, recognition sparked across her face.

“Kaze-kun?”

Against all expectations, it was Sato Itsuki. The irony of the situation struck him immediately. They had lived on the same street for three years, passing through the same quiet mornings and uneventful evenings, yet neither of them had ever noticed the other until now.

“You live here?”

“Yes. You too?”

Rather than answering directly, Kaze simply nodded and turned away, resuming his walk as if the coincidence required no further commentary. Itsuki followed behind him, neither quickening nor slowing her pace.

When they arrived at school, the atmosphere shifted almost instantly. Eyes followed them from every direction, whispers layering over one another until they formed a dull, oppressive noise. Kaze ignored it all. As long as no one escalated the matter formally, everything was still manageable. The school’s rules regarding relationships were strict, and once parents became involved, the situation would spiral beyond control.

Denial was no longer an option. They had been seen together at the mall, photographed even. No explanation would erase that. Even if the truth was only a bet, rumors had their own momentum, and logic rarely survived once gossip took hold.

As they entered the classroom, Kaze’s gaze drifted instinctively toward a familiar position of the room — Masakami Kento’s seat. The motion was unconscious, born not from curiosity but from a subtle, long-cultivated sense of unease. Kento was a constant in the classroom, a presence so reliable it bordered on mechanical. Never absent. Never late. Never careless. Yet now, the chair stood empty. His neatly arranged schoolbag rested against the desk, its quiet existence a contradiction that unsettled Kaze more than outright absence ever could.

(No. He isn’t late. His bag’s there. So where did he go?)

The thought lingered only briefly before it was swept away by the sharp crackle of the school speakers overhead, their sudden activation slicing through the low murmur of the classroom like a blade.

“Attention, please.”

Every student froze. Conversations faltered mid-sentence, chairs creaked as bodies straightened, and a ripple of confusion spread through the room. The principal rarely addressed students directly without prior notice. When he did, it usually meant something had already gone wrong — badly.

“The names I will mention, please report to the principal’s staff room immediately.

“Takuya Kaze from Class 3-A.”

(…Me?)

A faint stir passed through the classroom, several pairs of eyes turning in his direction almost reflexively.

“Together with Sato Itsuki from Class 3-A, please come to the staff room.”

(Of course. Someone reported us.)

There was no need to confirm it aloud. The answer was obvious, inevitable even. Rumors were like spilled ink — once spread, they seeped into places logic could never reach.

They left the classroom together without exchanging a word, walking side by side through the corridor. The silence between them was heavy, broken only by the echo of their footsteps against the polished floor. Each step felt louder than the last, as though the hallway itself were amplifying their presence, bearing witness to their quiet march toward judgment.

At the staff room door, Kaze stepped forward first. He knocked lightly, a habit ingrained by years of etiquette rather than respect, and pushed the door open. The hinges emitted a low, drawn-out creak that seemed almost accusatory. Inside, the principal sat behind his desk, posture rigid, expression carved into something stern and immovable — an authority figure in every sense of the word.

“Good morning, kouchou-sensei…”

“No need for formalities. Let’s get straight to the point, shall we?”

“Yeah.”

The principal folded his hands atop the desk and allowed a deliberate pause to stretch between them, his silence pressing down harder than any raised voice.

“I heard that you two have been dating lately. Is that true?”

“That’s a false rumor, sir.”

“Indeed. No criminals ever admit their crimes, am I right?”

“You’re not wrong, but we’re not criminals…”

“I can’t trust that so easily. Someone has also reported that you cheated during the first-term exam.”

“Huh?!”

Their voices overlapped — one sharp with disbelief, the other trembling with shock.

“That’s not true, sir.”

“Then can you explain this?”

The principal reached into a drawer and produced a folded sheet of crib note, placing it squarely on the desk between them.

“We found it in your desk.”

“No way. I would never che — ”

Kaze stopped mid-sentence. His words caught in his throat the moment he noticed Itsuki’s expression. The color had drained from her face, her eyes fixed on the paper with a quiet, unmistakable disappointment. It was not accusation — but that somehow hurt more.

“What is it? The handwriting is clearly yours. Or perhaps Sato-san helped you cheat?”

(Someone is trying to eliminate, or even expel me from the school...)

Silence settled over the room, thick and suffocating. Kaze’s mind raced, calculating outcomes, weighing damage. He understood exactly what was happening — and more importantly, what needed to happen next.

“If that’s the case, I’ll have to call your parents.”

“No!”

Itsuki’s voice cut through the stillness, sharp enough to sting.

“No matter what! Don’t call my parents!”

“I did it.”

Kaze spoke before the moment could slip away.

“Oh? Care to explain?”

“I cheated so I could get close to Itsu — ”
He paused briefly.
“To get close to Sato-san. I lied. I told her we were shopping to buy a birthday present for a friend, but I actually wanted to go on a date with her with this excuse.”

“Huh — ”

“I like her body. Her appearance. I admit that. I cheated so she’d favor me. But in the end, I don’t actually like her. I like prettier girls.”

The principal watched him carefully, then nodded once, slowly, as if fitting the pieces together.

“She did nothing wrong. I did everything, and I regret it.”

“Understood. Sato-san, you may leave. This no longer concerns you.”

Itsuki stood abruptly, chair scraping against the floor as she tried to speak, but Kaze cut her off before she could say a word.

“I said I don’t like you. You don’t need to keep helping me. Just get lost.”

She stared at him, disbelief frozen across her face, as if trying to reconcile the person before her with the one she thought she knew. Then, without another word, she turned and left the room, her footsteps heavy and uneven.

When Kaze returned to the classroom, the outcome had already been decided. He took his seat with the weight of his punishment — cleaning the school rooftop for a month — settling over him like a dull ache. No one approached him. Conversations avoided his vicinity. Even Itsuki no longer looked his way.

(Back to being a loner again, huh.)

Around Itsuki, classmates gathered, their voices low and sympathetic.

“Are you okay?”

“I heard you were manipulated.”

“That’s awful… dealing with someone like that.”

(From loner to pervert. Quite the metamorphosis.)

By the end of the day, the rumor had burned itself out, consumed by its own intensity. After school, Kaze made his way to the rooftop, broom in hand, the open sky above him indifferent and vast. He worked in silence until footsteps approached from behind.

“Just show yourself. Kazumi-san.”

“Kaze-kun… that’s the part of you I dislike. Why would you do that?” Yagami Kazumi steps out and asks right away.

“It was a better solution.”

“But not the best one!”

“It was. She’s a good student. She shouldn’t be dragged down by me.”

“I understand, but why did you say you cheated? You worked so hard!”

“It’s fine. People hate those who stand above them anyway, so I just wanted to step out of it.”

Kazumi fell silent. When Kaze glanced back, she was already gone, leaving nothing behind but the wind.

(A lot happened today…)

(I don’t deserve either of them. There's no romance between us, people just make it exploitable.)

He continued cleaning the rooftop alone.

End of Chapter