Kokichi was used to being ignored. He stayed quiet, kept to the edges, said sorry more than his own name. If he didn’t take up space, people usually left him alone.

Usually.

He was at his locker when someone slammed into his shoulder, hard enough to make him stumble.

“Watch it,” a voice laughed.

“S–sorry,” Kokichi said automatically, ducking down as his books hit the floor. He moved fast to pick them up, hands shaking a little.

Another shove. “Damn, you’re jumpy.”

Someone snorted. “Does he ever stop apologizing?”

Kokichi froze, fingers tightening around a notebook. He didn’t look up.

“I’ll move,” he mumbled. “I didn’t mean to—”

The laughter cut him off.