41- My Name is Kushida Kikyo

I've always, always strived to chase an ideal.

For as long as I can remember, I realized early on that I was lucky to have a prettier appearance than most girls.

I was better at memorizing than most, so I excelled in studies.

I was good at sports, so I spared no effort to always perform at my best.

I found socializing easy, so I made lots of friends.

Not only am I nimble with my hands, but I'm also quick-witted enough to adapt to any unexpected situation.

So, am I a perfect person?

To such an absurd question, an obvious answer: no.

In this world, there are girls far prettier than me, people smarter than me, and plenty who are better at sports.

That's not strange at all. It's only natural.

But I think there are things people absolutely don't want to lose, right?

Whether it's looks, academics, video games, or singing.

When you lose to someone in your area of expertise, everyone starts to feel frustrated.

I don't know why, but my feelings didn't stop at mere frustration. Without realizing it, I'd developed a massive inferiority complex.

Every time I lost to someone close to me, my emotions shook violently.

Every loss made the darkness in my heart grow.

An irrational stress gripped me, squeezing my chest until it felt like it was wringing out every drop from my stomach.

Why am I so frustrated?

Though I'm not ordinary, I'm definitely no genius either.

So why?

Everything was fine when I was younger.

Everyone pampered me for accomplishing even the simplest tasks.

They praised me as a genius, a prodigy.

It felt good; my heart raced with excitement.

I was the best at everything in class. I was the class hero, the idol.

But that was just a dream I'd soon wake up from.

Once I got to middle school, I started meeting people who were better than me in every field.

People I had no chance of beating.

That reality weighed heavily on my heart. It was like the heavens had gathered them just to crush me to my bones.

I looked for a way out.

To escape this pain, I needed a field where I'd never lose to anyone.

I wanted people's respect. I wanted their envy, but I couldn't compete with others in academics or sports.

So, the answer I came to was: make people "trust" me more than anyone else.

Oh, what a revelation!

I reclaimed that sense of superiority by being more popular than anyone.

I reached out to boys so gross that just seeing them was unpleasant, and to girls so annoying they'd make your stomach churn. But it was fine—I learned to suppress my emotions, flashing fake smiles and spreading fake kindness.

Classmates, senpai, kouhai, teachers, parents, even strangers I met in the halls—I became someone everyone loved, and in that, I couldn't lose to anyone.

I was truly happy.

At the same time, I realized something else.

Trust is like fine sake—it grows with time and delicate care.

And behind that trust lies something called "secrets."

When someone truly trusts you from the bottom of their heart, they reveal the secrets they hold inside.

So, unintentionally, I became a living storage unit for secrets.

I knew the secret crush of the most popular boy in class and the unexpected struggles of the smartest person.

From the most serious to the most trivial secrets, I knew them all.

Though it unsettled me at first, I started to enjoy it.

And before I knew it, I was hooked.

Every time I made a new friend or listened to someone's worries, my heart pounded.

I trembled with thrill every time I learned someone's secrets—things as vital to them as their own life.

I was the most trustworthy person around. Keeping it that way gave my life meaning.

What an exhilarating feeling.

But there was something I didn't notice back then.

That trust can only be earned by living a life full of lies.

I spent every day carrying an immense amount of stress in my heart.

And then… that incident happened.

Everything changed.

I couldn't help it…

But I had no choice, right?

After all, everyone rejected me…

There's nothing I could do.

They hurt me, so they can't complain if I hurt them back, right?

If you're attacked, you fight back.

Isn't that obvious?

But because of that, the "ideal me" everyone once saw was shattered.

The respect and envy of others vanished, replaced by fear and hatred.

Everything I'd worked so hard to build crumbled like a house of cards.

I lost it all.

I didn't want it to turn out like that.

I never meant to act that way.

But…

Now, I only want one thing.

To regain everyone's trust and recapture that "sense of superiority."

That's why I swear never to repeat my mistakes.

That's why I'm so excited to start my new high school life.

That's why, this time, I *have* to succeed.

But…

Damn it, damn it, damn it!!!

This first day, meant to be the first step toward my new life, has turned into my worst nightmare.

What's that bitch doing on this bus?

She's wearing the same uniform?

No, no, no!

She knows what happened. She *knows*.

As long as you're here, I'll never have peace.

You need to disappear, Horikita Suzune…

What a disaster! Why doesn't the world want me to thrive? Why are there always obstacles in my way?

But I won't let myself be defeated again. I *will* start the life I've dreamed of.

Then I spot an elderly woman who needs a seat, but all the spots are taken.

Here's the perfect chance to shine.

I boldly offer to help her find a seat, pleading with the younger passengers to give up theirs.

Unsurprisingly, most hesitate to stand or stay seated. That's normal—humans aren't naturally good. It's all just a mask, after all.

I turn to a girl sitting in a priority seat. She's completely engrossed in the book she's reading.

Though I don't know her well enough to call her an acquaintance, the few times we've crossed paths, she's always seemed like a total pain.

I'm gonna have some fun with her. It's your fault for coming to the same school as me, for ruining my happiness.

"Excuse me, could you give up your seat for this elderly lady?"

I direct the request at Horikita with those words.

I'm careful to keep my expression in check. Can't show my disgust here.

She doesn't even spare me a glance. What a jerk!

I act like I'm not fazed.

"Please? You're in a priority seat. Could you make room for our elder?"

I ask again.

My good Samaritan act must've touched some in the crowd, because they start backing me up without me asking. Perfect—help me toy with this fool.

"Hey, girl, we're talking to you!"

"Is this what they teach kids these days?"

"You're young—get up and let your grandma sit."

Under pressure from the majority, Horikita can't pretend to ignore us anymore.

She closes her book, looks at the crowd, and sighs deeply.

"I don't have the energy to argue. Will you leave me alone if I do what you say?"

Her tactless tone makes some adults frown.

After saying that, Horikita stands, grabs a bus pole with one hand, and resumes reading with the other.

What a vile person!

I swallow my frustration and bow to the asshole.

"Thank you."

Then I turn to the elderly woman to help her take the now-vacant seat.

"Grandma, please have a seat."

"You're so kind, dear. Such a good girl."

After that, I can feel approving, admiring glances pouring my way.

This is just a taste—I'll definitely take back my old life.

My gaze lingers for a moment on the bitch to my left, engrossed in her damn book.

But first, I need to get rid of you.

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