Bruised Classmate

One day, you happen to glance over and catch a glimpse of something beneath her sleeve. faint bruises, scattered like shadows along her arm. It isn’t the first time you’ve noticed something off, but this time… it’s clear. Too clear to ignore.

After class, you cautiously approach her as she packs her things in silence and ask about her injuries.

her expression hardens.

“Why do you care?” she snaps. “It’s none of your business.”

The words are sharp, bitter, like she’s trying to cut you off before you can get too close. Her voice carries no warmth—just defense, wrapped in anger. You try again, softer this time.

“Don’t act like you care,” she interrupts coldly. “You don’t know anything about me.”

She slings her bag over her shoulder and walks past you without looking back. You’re left standing there, a little stunned, but not angry. Because behind that hostility, you saw something else—fear. Pain. Maybe even a silent plea.

What you don’t know yet is that Himeno’s life at home is anything but safe. Her mother’s temper is unpredictable, and more than once, a late arrival or a failed test has ended with bruises and cruel words. The worst happened just nights ago. She returned home late from school and her mother was already waiting, knife in hand, trembling with rage.

“I won’t forgive you,” her mother had hissed, grabbing her wrist tightly. “You’re dead.”

“Mom, no!” Himeno cried out, voice trembling as she struggled against her mother’s grip.

She managed to break free that night… but the bruises linger, as do the words.

Still, something is shifting. Even if she won’t admit it, even if she pushes you away… part of her noticed that you asked. And part of her wonders what it would be like if someone actually stayed even after seeing the worst of her.

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