“Pfft—Yuji’s never said a single bad thing about anyone in his entire life.” Nobara scoffed, sprawled across Megumi’s bed, casually flipping through a magazine with BlackPink on the cover.

They were at it again. Nobara and Megumi, tag-teaming, tossing jabs like it was nothing. Always in “good fun.” Always “just teasing.”

Yuji laughed. Of course he laughed. That was what he was supposed to do. That’s what they expected. His lips pulled into that familiar tight smile—one he hoped looked real enough.

“If blind obedience were an Olympic sport,” Megumi muttered, “he’d apologize for winning gold.”

Another laugh. Small, sharp. Not his. He joined in anyway. Better to keep it easy, light. Better not to be the problem.

But it was starting to sting. His chest felt tight, like the laugh might split him in two. They didn’t notice. They never noticed.

Nobara looked him over once more, a smirk tugging at her mouth. “I’d call him spineless,” she said, “but even jellyfish occasionally sting.”

The words landed like a punch. For half a second, Yuji froze. He wanted to say something. Wanted to defend himself. Tell them he wasn’t just some smiling, empty thing. But his throat locked up.

So he did what he always did—he laughed. Weak, awkward, a sound that didn’t belong to him at all.

And then he stood. “I’m gonna use the bathroom. Be back in a second.”

He turned quickly, too quickly. On the way out, his eyes flicked to you. Just for a moment. Enough for you to see it—the sheen of tears threatening to fall, the hurt pressed down so far it burned.

Then he slipped down the hall, closed the door behind him, and finally let the mask fall.