Chapter 6

When I arrived at the infirmary, the school nurse wasn’t there. A note on the whiteboard said she had gone to the staff room, but I couldn’t just go there like this.

I couldn’t drag along a child who’d wet herself, and leaving her here crying while I went alone to the staff room felt wrong too. On the other hand, waiting around for the nurse, with no idea when she’d return, wasn’t much of a solution either…

This academy apparently has shower rooms for students who belong to athletic clubs, but since I don’t do club activities and often skip school, I don’t even know where they are.

When I asked the crying girl if she knew where the shower rooms were, she shook her head without raising it. Well, she really does look like the literary type. She seems more like the kind of girl who would quietly read in the library. Probably has no connection to shower rooms. As for the pool showers, they’re locked during this season and can’t be used…

Oh right. If the school doesn’t work out, there’s always my place. It’s only a few minutes on foot, and if we go quickly and come back, it’ll be fine.

"My house is close by, want to come? I’ve got spare clothes there."

"Eh…? B-but, if we leave school without permission, we’ll get in trouble…"

"It’s fine, it’s fine. I sneak out all the time, so it’ll be okay."

Normally, students can’t leave early unless a parent comes to pick them up. But because of my mom’s work, sometimes if Ms. Shinozaki can’t come get me, I’m allowed to leave by myself. The school already knows, so the security guard just lets me through.

Well, I might get scolded later, but it can’t be helped. I’m used to getting scolded anyway.

As usual, I greeted the security guard and slipped out of the school gates without a problem. Getting back in would be the real issue, but if it were just me, I could climb over the wall. It’s five meters tall though, so this girl definitely couldn’t manage. Oh well, we’ll figure it out later.

When we reached home, it seemed like Mom had gone out. On the small whiteboard hanging in the living room, it said, “Kazuki’s kindergarten visitation day.” So, she’ll probably be back around three with Kazuki. I hadn’t really thought much about what excuse to give for leaving school early, so this worked out nicely.

I let the crying girl take a shower, rinsed out her wet skirt, underwear, and the shawl I’d borrowed from the infirmary, then tossed them in the washing machine on delicate wash. Since it was a small load, I set it to short mode—it should take about forty minutes including drying. Whether that’ll be enough to make it back by fourth period is iffy though.

From my room, I brought some clean clothes and placed them in the dressing area with a bath towel. I thought about putting out a pair of my underwear too, but figured she wouldn’t want to wear someone else’s. Until her stuff dried, she’d just have to deal with pajama bottoms and no underwear.

"I’m leaving your change of clothes here, okay?"

"S-sorry…"

I called toward the bathroom from the dressing room. Her voice came back faint, almost drowned out by the sound of running water. With nothing else to do, I started stretching on the balance ball in the living room.

Flexibility is important for physical activity, so I make a point to stretch daily. Every time I get restless, I end up stretching, and Ms. Shinozaki always scolds me for being fidgety.

"U-um… my uniform is… ah—"

I was lying back on the balance ball, arching into a deep stretch, when the girl finished showering and stepped out. Since I was facing away, she got a full view of my underwear. I’d let my guard down, thinking no one would see, but… well, we’re both girls, so it’s fine, right?

"Your uniform’s in the wash right now. It should be dry in about an hour."

"I see… thank you…"

"Well, until then, just relax. Want something to drink?"

I got up as if nothing had happened. She didn’t see my underwear. Nope. Totally didn’t.

The fridge had some orange juice, so I poured it into a glass, put it on a tray, and carried it over.

The supermarkets around here mostly stock expensive goods for the upper-class residents, so even the orange juice was the fancy kind—in a glass bottle and everything. But it was good enough to serve a Sakuranagi Academy student without worry.

When we first moved in, Mom used to complain about the high prices and even went shopping at distant discount stores. But eventually, she gave up and started buying from the local shops. I mean, really, a madam riding around here with bargain store bags hanging from her bike would stand out way too much.

I set the juice on the table and sat down next to the girl on the sofa. She wasn’t crying anymore, but she still stared down and refused to speak.

"I’m Nanami Hanamura, Class 4-3. What about you?"

"Um… I’m also in Class 3… same class as you. I’m Ayano Ogasawara…"

"I knew it! Same class, right!"

"S-sorry… I guess I don’t leave much of an impression… people never seem to remember me…"

Oh crap, I didn’t realize we were in the same class. Well, I barely show up to school, so I only remember about half the names anyway. I thought I at least had the faces down, but I guess she just didn’t stick in my memory. I tried to act like I’d known, but yeah, she totally saw through me. Sorry.

An awkward silence filled the air. I sipped the orange juice, its fresh acidity spreading across my tongue. Mmm, definitely worth the price. As I indulged in that escape, Ayano kept glancing toward one corner of the living room.

There, alongside family photos, posters of movies and dramas I’d starred in were pinned up. Right, I’d forgotten to put those away. Since moving to this apartment, no one outside of work had ever come over, so I’d let my guard down. Oh well. She probably already heard rumors from the science prep room anyway.

"…Curious?"

"Um… Hanamura-san, you really are… ‘Hanasaki Nana’-chan, aren’t you…?"

"Yeah, that’s me. I just kept it secret for a while."

I pulled off my wig and glasses, striking a pose with a playful wink. Ayano’s expression instantly lit up.

"Th-the real Nana-chan…"

Her cheeks flushed pink and her eyes sparkled as she looked at me. I thought the wink would be stylish, but wow, doing that in real life is embarrassing. It’s one thing in acting, but in private, it’s super cringey.

"Ahem… I keep it hidden at school, so please don’t tell anyone, okay?"

"Um, okay, if you say so… but why hide it?"

"Mm… I’ve been through some stuff, I guess."

The bullying I went through at my previous school, the harassment directed at my home, and how all that eventually led to my transfer—none of it ever made the news or got picked up by talk shows.

Well, it wasn’t exactly newsworthy, and the talk shows probably didn’t want to cover a scandal they themselves had stirred up. So in general, it never became widely known, and I’ve heard it didn’t spread much among people connected to the industry either.

So, I gave Ayano-chan a halting explanation of what had happened at my old school.

"—and that’s how it went. So if anything ever happens, you can always talk to a teacher or your parents. Things will work out somehow."

By the time I finished, Ayano-chan was crying again. For me, it was something I didn’t really want to recall, but I tried sharing it as an experience. With issues like this, unless it’s advice from someone who’s been through the same thing, no words will ever reach the heart.

"And if it gets too hard, it’s okay to run away. There are plenty of other schools. You could even transfer like I did."

If things are too painful, it’s okay to run. If you push yourself too hard, you’ll die—just like I nearly did in the past.

When you’re cornered, your vision narrows so much that you forget that running away is even an option.

Having said most of what I wanted to, I waited until Ayano-chan calmed down.

"…I don’t want to tell the teachers or my parents. …I can’t. It would only worry them. And transferring would be hard too… It was already a stretch just getting into Sakuranagi…"

She mumbled in a frail voice, head lowered, and then fell silent again.

Well, that was about what I expected. Sakuranagi isn’t like public schools—it’s heavily influenced by family background, finances, and parental status. If things blew up, her parents could suffer fallout too. I can understand not wanting to drag her family into it.

But thinking she just has to endure it all on her own—that’s dangerous.

If only I could protect her… but as someone at the very bottom of the school caste, I don’t have the power. My parents are just regular company employees, and even if I make a decent income myself, compared to families at Sakuranagi who can afford big donations, it’s pocket change. The numbers don’t even compare, and I’ve got zero influence.

"Then… why don’t we become friends?"

"Eh… with Nana-cha—Hanamura-san?"

"If anything ever hurts you, I want you to talk to me. I might not be able to do much, but… would that be okay?"

I clasped her hands, tilted my face up, and pleaded with her. This works on Dad with a 100% success rate, and even with Shinozaki-san it’s effective about 80% of the time.

"I-I’d like that… If you’d be my friend, Hanamura-san…"

"I’m glad. Then call me Nanami, okay, Ayano-chan?"

Nana is my stage name. In private, it’s Nanami.

"Okay… Nanami-chan."

Ayano-chan smiled shyly as she said it. It wasn’t the radiant bloom of a sunflower, nor the brilliance or delicacy of a rose or lily—it was a simple, warm smile, like a dandelion.

Children really are at their best when they’re smiling. I don’t want to see tears. Even if I can’t protect her, I can stay by her side. Just knowing you’re not alone—having someone who’ll listen when it hurts—makes things easier. If it ever becomes truly unbearable, then I’ll go straight to her parents myself and carve out an escape route.

"So then… can you tell me what happened today?"

"…………… Um…"

In a fragile voice, she told me the whole story—what had happened that day, when the bullying started, and the names and numbers of those involved. By the time she finished, tears welled up again, so I pulled her close and gently stroked her hair.

The ringleader of the bullying was our classmate, Anju Ichinomiya. If I recall correctly, she’s the daughter of one of the biggest corporations in the communications and internet field. Despite being a fourth grader, she already bleaches her hair lightly and wears it permed—like a miniature "beauty queen." That’s why I remembered her.

Though called the ringleader, she doesn’t dirty her own hands. Her followers do the bullying while she just watches from behind. Apparently, Ayano-chan had been subjected to petty harassment and being ignored for about a year, but things escalated to being locked up and other direct forms of "bullying" only recently.

When I asked if she knew why she was targeted—

"At first, it was just because I’m clumsy and they teased me… But then, Ichinomiya-san and the others saw Kurotani-kun talking to me, and from then on…"

"Kurotani-kun? What did he want with you?"

"At first, he said he’d mistaken me for ‘Nana.’ Then he asked, ‘Is Hanamura here today?’… After that, he started talking to me from time to time."

"Oooohhhhhh nooooo!! That idiot’s the cause?!"

So indirectly, it’s my fault too…

Wait—if Daisho mistook her for me and someone saw it, doesn’t that mean I could’ve ended up being the target of the bullying instead? Ayano-chan’s completely caught in the crossfire.

Well, it’s not like Daisho did anything wrong, but the scary part here is girls’ jealousy. Just being spoken to is enough to make you a target of envy? Seriously?

Being an idol is such a curse.

"Sorry, I shouted. And sorry again—this bullying might be my fault…"

When I suddenly shouted without thinking, Ayano-chan flinched in surprise.

"And as for Kurotani-kun… I’ll make sure to ‘ask’ him never to go near you again, okay?"

"Um, by ‘ask’… what exactly do you mean?"

"Maybe if I break two or three of his arms, he’ll think twice."

"N-no, you can’t! I’m fine, really, so please don’t…"

"Hehe, I’m joking. I wouldn’t actually break them."

I waved my hands lightly, and Ayano-chan exhaled in relief. Breaking bones would cause too many problems anyway. Better just to pop them out. If I dislocate them cleanly and pop them back in, there won’t be any lasting damage. Probably.

Just then, the washing machine beeped. Everything was dry, though a little wrinkled, so I grabbed an iron and smoothed it out. With a bit of starch, it looked crisp and neat.

"Here you go. Looks fine to me, but what do you think?"

"I’m sorry…"

"Ayano-chan, in times like this, don’t say ‘sorry’—say ‘thank you.’"

‘Thank you’ feels much better to hear than ‘sorry.’ It’s important to properly express gratitude.

"Um… thank you…"

"You’re welcome. Okay, let’s head back to school."

After Ayano-chan changed in the dressing room, we hurried back to the academy. The clothes had dried faster than I expected, so if we rushed, we might still make it for fourth period.

The problem was how to get past the gate guard… Then I remembered playing a ninja role once: making a noise somewhere else to lure security away, and sneaking in during the distraction.

If only I had some firecrackers. But you hardly see those anymore—back in the day, you could buy them at any corner candy shop.

Guess I’ll just jump.

"…Ayano-chan, can you clear the school fence?"

"Ehh!? …Sorry, that’s impossible."

"I thought so—sorry for asking something weird."

On my own, I could probably manage it, but carrying her would be too much. There’s barbed wire along the top too, so lowering a rope isn’t exactly safe either.

Alright, when in doubt—go through the front.

If I just walked in with a greeting, we’d be fine. After all, we’re students.

When I bowed and said, "Good work, sir," the old gatekeeper just smiled and said, "Running late, are you?" and waved us through.

Piece of cake.

Honestly, I should’ve just done that from the start instead of overthinking. If I had actually tossed firecrackers onto school grounds, it could’ve blown up into a huge mess with police cars showing up. Good thing they weren’t for sale.

Back in class, I lied to the teacher, saying I’d been resting in the infirmary because I felt unwell. With no school nurse around, there was no way to check.

Sayuri-chan next to me looked worried, but since class was starting, I apologized and told her I’d explain at lunch.

At lunch, I usually ate with Sayuri, but this time I invited Ayano-chan too, and the three of us ate together.

I told Sayuri that Ayano-chan and I had become friends, and without giving details, I asked her to look out for Ayano-chan whenever I couldn’t come to school.

"If she’s your friend, Nanami-chan, then please be my friend too," Sayuri said with a warm smile. Angel.

But as we were chatting, I suddenly felt an intense stare from Ichinomiya’s group in the back. We’d kept our voices low, so I doubt they overheard—but it was still terrifying.

They really should’ve cast her in "Boku to Kimi de moderato." She’d fit the ‘Beauty’ role even better than me.

I was thinking dumb things like that, but deep down I just hoped I could be some kind of support for Ayano-chan from now on.

Then, strangely enough, the bullying suddenly stopped the following week. Ichinomiya’s group avoided Ayano-chan completely, not even meeting her eyes.

…Why?