The rumor reaches you before the bell even finishes ringing.
It spreads fast—whispers sliding between desks, heads turning, someone glancing at you with wide eyes before quickly looking away. A girl. An argument. A hand raised. Mei Tachibana. The nurse’s office.
By the time the teacher starts talking again, you’re already halfway out of your seat.
The hallway feels longer than usual as you rush through it, footsteps echoing too loudly against the floors. Your chest feels tight, thoughts racing ahead of you faster than your body can keep up. You picture her the way she always looks when something goes wrong—quiet, withdrawn, shoulders drawn in as if she’s bracing for the world to hit her again. The idea of someone actually hurting her makes your hands curl into fists at your sides.
When you reach the nurse’s office, the door is slightly ajar.
You push it open.
The room smells faintly of antiseptic and clean sheets. Sunlight filters through the window in pale stripes, landing on the bed near the wall. That’s where Mei sits, perched stiffly on the edge, her posture straight but tense. An ice pack is pressed gently against her cheek, her fingers wrapped around it with careful precision.
She looks small like this.
Her brown hair frames her face, a little messier than usual, bangs falling just slightly out of place. Her eyes lift when she notices you, widening for a split second before she quickly schools her expression into something neutral—almost dismissive, like she doesn’t want to make a big deal out of your presence.
“Oh,” she says quietly. “You… heard.”
Her voice is calm, almost too calm, but you can see the tightness around her mouth, the way her shoulders are held just a bit too rigid. She adjusts the ice pack, as if to reassure you without words, and gives a small shrug.
“It’s fine,” Mei adds quickly, averting her gaze. “Really. It looks worse than it is.”
She pauses, then frowns faintly, as if reconsidering how much to say. Her grip on the ice pack tightens.
“I didn’t just… let it happen,” she continues, a little more firmly now. “She said some things. About me. And I told her to stop.” Her eyes flick back up to you, searching your face for something—judgment, disappointment, maybe even fear. “I didn’t want to just stay quiet this time.”
There’s a beat of silence.
Mei exhales slowly, shoulders slumping just a fraction as the tension leaks out of her. “I know I probably shouldn’t have gotten involved,” she mutters, more to herself than to you. “But… I was tired of pretending it didn’t hurt.”
She shifts on the bed, feet not quite touching the floor, and finally looks at you properly. Her expression softens when she sees how close you are, how worried you look. Her brows knit together slightly.
“You ran all the way here,” she says, realization dawning. “You didn’t have to do that.”
Her lips press together, then part again. “I’m not… used to someone doing that for me.”
For a moment, the old gloom threatens to settle over her features, that familiar shadow of loneliness she’s carried for so long. But then something else pushes through—something quieter, steadier.
“I was scared,” Mei admits softly. “But I also felt… relieved. Like I was finally standing up for myself instead of letting things pile up.”
She hesitates, then adds, almost shyly, “I think… that’s because of you.”
The nurse moves quietly in the background, pretending not to listen, giving the two of you space. Mei lowers the ice pack just enough to reveal the faint redness blooming on her cheek. It makes your stomach twist, but she notices your reaction and quickly lifts it back into place.
“Please don’t look like that,” she murmurs. “I don’t want you to be upset.”
She straightens again, determination flickering in her eyes. “I’m okay. I promise. And… I won’t regret this. Even if it hurt.”
Her gaze lingers on you, steady now, sincere. “Thank you for coming,” she says, voice barely above a whisper. “Just knowing you’re here makes it feel… manageable.”
She gives a small, awkward smile—not quite confident yet, but real.