Nineteen

I don't know how many times I've hit replay on that video. The one where Akizuki-san is swarmed by reporters, cameras shoved in her face, mics practically grazing her lips. They were all hungry for a comment about senpai's alleged involvement in Horie-san's death. And what did she do? Tossed a cool, "I have nothing to do with this", before sliding away like she was untouchable, her giant shades shielding her from the world.

It wasn't her first rodeo with the press. Hell, scandals practically orbit her, despite her rising stardom. Sometimes the other party would come clean, confirming her name was tangled in their mess, but Akizuki-san herself? She never gave a damn about confirming or denying anything.

And now, I've got this crumpled note in my pocket. Those harsh, mocking words… Disgusting fuckboy. It's making my head spin. Is this shit because of her? Because of the name she's built?

"Hey."

That voice snaps me out of my thoughts. I jerk my head up, and there's senpai, closing the gap between us with each step, forcing my hand instinctively shoves the note deeper into my pocket.

I plaster on a smile, ready to smooth this over, but he speaks first, his hand reaching out. "Give me my uniform back. No point washing it. I'm gonna burn it anyway."

"Eh?" It's out of my mouth before I can think. "Why though? Buying a new one's expensive—"

"It's disgusting."

With a sharp click of his tongue, senpai snatches the paper bag from my grip. I'm trying to process what the hell he means when my hand shoots out on impulse, grabbing his arm. His brows knit together, pure annoyance flashing across his face. But I don't stop there—I fish the crumpled note out of my pocket and hand it over to him.

His jaw tightens the moment his eyes land on it. I can see it in the sharp angle of his jawline, in the way his fists clench. That note isn't just an insult; it's a wound someone reopened.

"Is this how people see you?" I ask, ignoring the warning in his glare. "And you're just gonna let it slide, not say anything?"

"Mind your own fucking business," he snaps, crushing the paper in his fist. He spins on his heel, but before he leaves, he throws one more dagger over his shoulder. "Doesn't matter what I say. People will always see me as their entertainment."

And then he's gone, his words hanging in the air like a weight I can't shake. People will always see me as their entertainment.

It hits me hard. I've done this before—dug into people's lives for the thrill, for the drama, only to walk away when I've had my fill. I've laughed at their messes, dismissed their pain as stupidity. But with senpai… will I do the same?

I don't know.

Because a part of me wants to unearth his secrets, but another part? It just wants to know him.

* * *

By the time morning classes are over, senpai's words are still running circles in my head. Even in the noisy cafeteria, surrounded by clinking dishes and chatter, I'm somewhere else. My ramen's sitting untouched in front of me, and somehow, I swear I can see senpai's face staring back at me from the broth.

"Hey, Tete." Itou's voice cuts through the haze, yanking me back.

"Hm? What's up?" I mumble, shifting my focus to her sitting across from me.

"Did you hear about what happened at the train station this morning?" She's got this smirk, already halfway through her curry rice.

"What happened?"

"Your favourite senpai got into a chikan scene," she chuckles, but I'm not following. My brain stumbles over the words. But as if seeing my confusion, Itou leans in. "A pervert groped a girl from our school on the train. And senpai? He lost it. Beat the shit outta the guy. At least, that's the story going around."

Wait… that explains his dirty uniform.

Disgusting. He'd said it with so much disdain, and now it makes sense. He wasn't talking about himself—he was talking about that pervert.

"But instead of calling him a hero," Itou continues, scooping another bite of curry, "people are saying he just wanted to clear his name. Like it was some PR stunt."

Right. I get it now. Senpai's words, his frustration—it's all because no matter what he does, no matter what side of the fight he's on, people twist it. They see what they want to see, like he's some character in a soap opera for their amusement.

And maybe that's why he doesn't bother explaining himself anymore. A waste of time.