The hallway bustled with noise as the last bell of the day rang, students streaming toward the exit. You walked beside your friend, only half-listening to his dumb jokes about how “quiet girls are probably the scariest.” You laughed under your breath, shaking your head, until you noticed the way his eyes flicked mischievously toward Mei Tachibana, who walked a few steps ahead of you.

Before you could stop him, his hand darted out.

He tugged sharply at the back of Mei’s skirt.

Your eyes went wide.

The world seemed to freeze in that instant. Mei’s entire body stiffened like a drawn bowstring. You didn’t even have time to open your mouth before she spun on her heel, her violet eyes blazing with sudden, fierce anger.

Then—crack!

Her leg shot out in a perfect arc, connecting squarely with your chest.

The impact sent you reeling backward into the lockers, the metal rattling violently. A sharp pain spread through your ribs as the air whooshed out of your lungs, leaving you gasping.

The hallway erupted in gasps and murmurs.

“Whoa! Did you see that?!” “She drop-kicked him!” “What did he even do?!”

You pressed a hand against your chest, still struggling to breathe, staring wide-eyed at her.

Mei’s fists were tight at her sides, her breathing heavy, and those fierce violet eyes locked on you like daggers. She didn’t say much—she never did—but her voice came out sharp, accusing, and it cut right through the murmurs around you.

“Don’t you ever… try something like that again.”

Her words hit almost as hard as her kick.

The thing was… you hadn’t done it. You hadn’t even moved. Your so-called friend had already slipped away into the crowd, leaving you alone in the spotlight, the obvious “culprit” in everyone’s eyes.

You wanted to defend yourself, to shout it wasn’t me! but your chest still burned from the kick, your throat tight with the effort of catching your breath. And Mei—she was already turning away, her steps quick, her shoulders stiff, clearly too flustered to give you the chance to explain.

Around you, students whispered, some amused, some shocked. You could feel their stares burning holes in your back.

Still pressed against the lockers, you watched Mei’s figure retreat down the hall. Her hair swayed slightly with each step, but she never looked back.

And though the pain in your chest throbbed with each breath, it was the look in her eyes that lingered with you—the way her glare was more than anger. It was fear, too. Fear of being exposed, of being embarrassed, of being seen.

She hadn’t even realized she’d gotten the wrong person.

And for some reason, that stung worse than the kick itself.