Chapter 3: Rotten Spotlight

The whispers weren't whispers anymore.

When Renji stepped into his classroom that morning, it felt like something had shifted. Not in the air—that was the same stale, chalky scent of a typical day—but in the way people looked at him.

Longer. Sharper. Like their eyes were fingers pointing.

His seat was in the back, as usual. He slipped in quietly, head down, hoodie up. But that didn't stop the laughter two desks over.

"That's him. I swear, it's the same guy."

"No way. I thought that was just a rumor."

"Nah, it's all over the app. They posted receipts."

Receipts?

Renji hesitated, just a moment, before pulling out his phone under the desk.

A thread on the school's anonymous gossip app was trending.

@GhostScanner: "Sakuragi Renji. Dangerous. Middle school incident. Look it up."

@KitsuNeko: "Heard he hit a teacher."

@MintMilk: "Someone said he stalked a girl."

@JustWatcher: "Why is he even in this school?"

Each comment dug into him like nails under the skin. Lies, every single one. But they sounded so specific—so confident. Like someone knew exactly what to say to bury him deeper.

And no username was familiar. Just burner accounts. Hidden faces. Cowards.

He shoved the phone back into his bag. Didn't matter. Nothing changed.

Except now, it wasn't just silence anymore. Now it was suspicion.

Third period: Japanese literature. The teacher, Satou-sensei, usually ignored him. Today, she called on him three times in the first ten minutes.

"Sakuragi. Read the next passage."

He cleared his throat. Started reading, quiet but clear.

She frowned. "Louder."

He raised his voice a notch.

"Still not good enough. Speak properly. You're not a ghost."

Laughter rippled across the room.

That word again.

Ghost.

He finished the passage without stumbling, but she still marked something on her clipboard.

She hadn't even looked at the paper.

Lunch break. Renji didn't eat.

He sat on the rooftop again, hunched against the wind, chewing stale melon bread without tasting it.

Below, in the courtyard, Hina stood with her friends. Her hair was different today—tied back in a loose ponytail. He remembered when she used to ask him to do it for her.

She laughed at something. But when her eyes flicked up and caught his silhouette, she stopped.

They locked eyes. Just for a second.

Then she looked away.

But she didn't smile again after that.

After school, the hallway was a maze of noise. Renji kept his head low, weaving through backpacks and shouting voices.

Until he heard it.

"Heard someone's getting attention online."

The voice was low, cocky.

Yuuto.

Renji didn't stop walking.

"Guess the past really does follow you, huh?"

Still walking.

Yuuto didn't push further. Just let his words hang like poison.

They hadn't been friends since middle school. Not after what happened. Not after Yuuto started whispering to the others. Not after Hina cried and lied and left him behind.

Now Yuuto was here for her.

Renji? He was just the corpse in the corner.

At his shoe locker, he caught someone aiming a phone at him.

A younger student. First year. Wide eyes. Guilty hands.

Click.

"What are you doing?" Renji asked, voice flat.

The boy flinched. Nearly dropped the phone.

"I—I'm sorry! I just—I wanted proof you were real! I mean, you're like... everyone talks about you..."

"Delete it."

He did. Shaking fingers. Then ran.

Renji exhaled. His hands were cold.

Home was no better.

His mother didn't look up from her phone. His sister, sprawled on the couch, snorted when he entered the room and muttered something about him ruining the air.

He didn't respond. Just went to the bathroom. Washed his face.

Stared at his reflection.

His skin looked thinner. Like it didn't belong to him.

"Maybe they'd stop if I disappeared," he whispered.

But even his voice didn't believe it anymore.

That night, as he opened his locker to grab a forgotten notebook, something slipped out.

A folded note.

No name.

No handwriting he recognized.

He unfolded it slowly.

They're lying about you.

I know what really happened.

His breath caught.

He read it again.

And again.

The words burned like a question with no mouth.

For the first time in weeks, Renji felt something.

Not hope.

But not nothing, either.