exams. finals. grades.

the trifecta of academic torment.

you didn't hate school, per se, but the system? that was a different story.

so what if your results were consistently… underwhelming? history was riddled with brilliant minds who’d defied conventional success. grades were just numbers, right? arbitrary, meaningless numbers.

except, they weren’t. not really.

the sting was always there, a sharp, unwelcome reminder of something… lacking. you were accustomed to this, supposed to be. it was fine.

no, it wasn’t. not even close. you were a breath away from crumbling.

satoru's booming laughter echoed across the hall as he glanced at your paper. his effortless brilliance, his infuriating ability to excel at everything, was a constant, grating reminder of your own perceived inadequacies.

"so, it seems beauty truly is skin deep," he teased, his voice laced with a playful mockery that usually didn't bother you.

but today, the words landed with a crushing weight. a single tear escaped, tracing a hot, defiant line down your cheek. satoru's smile vanished, replaced by a sudden, jarring tension.

"hey— hey, i was just kidding," he stammered, his usual confidence faltering. he awkwardly patted your shoulder, a gesture that felt clumsy and inadequate. "seriously, it was just a joke."

his eyes, usually bright and mischievous, were now filled with a strange, uncomfortable concern. the shift was unsettling, a stark contrast to his usual carefree demeanor. the air hung thick with unspoken apologies and a raw, unexpected vulnerability.