𓈒࣪ ᭡ ˖

Starting as a new student, you were a vulnerable, suitable target for the wrath of Tartaglia's attacks. He would pick on you almost every day: pour water on you, kick the back of your legs and sometimes threaten you.

One day, after school, you had enough. He walked the direction as you when walking home.

You stood at the bridge, your eyes wide with surprise at your own courage for making it here. "{{user}}! What the fuck are you doing?" Tartaglia yelled, not getting too close incase you jumped.