Trudging to school, staring at my feet, I avoid all eye contact along the way. Though the sun is out, an unseasonably cold breeze blows steadily. I could use a jacket. I wish we had already switched to the winter uniforms. I concentrate on that and try to ignore the cutting comments of people who aren't even trying to hide their cruel thoughts.

"Is that him?"

"Wasn't he the one who was dating Fukui-san."

Was! That comment stings with the bite of cold reality.

"I heard he was two-timing her."

"Yeah. He and that other girl planned to make fools of their boyfriend and girlfriend. That's why he got beat up."

I shouldn't have come to school. I don't know why I'm doing this. Nothing good can come of it. I'm just making myself a target and inviting more abuse. Am I a masochist? Or am I just that desperate? Changing my shoes in the genkan at the school's entrance, I ignore the snickering and the snide comments. My bruises have begun turning spectacular new colors, but spectacular in the bad sense, like making a spectacle of myself, as if I wanted to draw attention to myself. I do look like an accident victim. Judging by their laughter, that is quite funny.

I slide the door to our classroom open, but I don't greet anyone with a customary good morning. I sit at my desk, trying to make myself as invisible as air, waiting for the homeroom teacher to arrive and class to start.

I don't look at Kyoko, though I'm painfully aware of her presence. I try not to hear my whispered name, though I seem to be the only thing worth talking about. Watanabe turns around in the seat in front of me. "Ohayou Gozaimasu. Welcome back. I'm glad you seem to be recovering."

Eh? Watanabe? Who is he talking to? I look up, but he's looking at me as if it were just another ordinary day at school. I sneak a sideways glance at my classmates to see who's watching. "Are you sure you should be speaking to me? If you do, the class may decide that you are a lying pervert too."

"No one who knows you thinks that way."

"Apparently no one in my class knows me—including my girlfriend."

"Tch." Watanabe sounds unconvinced. "The uncertainty of what has happened makes them uncomfortable. They don't know how to deal with it. Unfortunately, they are taking it out on you. They are going to feel very foolish when the truth comes out."

It is the first hopeful thing I've heard in a while. "You think it will?"

"It always does. But when it does, try to pretend like none of this happened. If you remind them of this failure of theirs, they really will find a reason to hate you."

I try not to show my skepticism. The classroom door slides open and the classroom falls silent. Shizuku steps inside, ignoring her classmates' glares as their eyes follow her to her desk. She barely has time to sit and put away her things before Hanashita rises and walks over to her.

"You are looking well." Hanashita leans against Shizuku's desk and tosses a quick smile to Kurosawa. "It's good to see that you weren't injured in any way in this so-called fight."

Shizuku answers her with an expressionless stare.

"Had you decided to humiliate Kurosawa-kun before or after doing ecchi things with Ametsuchi in the storeroom?"

"I did not humiliate Kurosawa-san or do ecchi things with Ametsuchi-san."

"Oh? Why were you in the storeroom, then?"

"Ito-san and the others pushed me in there and tried to rape me."

Hanashita gives her a wide-eyed innocent look. "Are you sure that it wasn't Ametsuchi trying to get into your panties?"

My fists clench. My chair scoots back with a grunt as I start to leap to my feet. Watanabe slaps his giant hand down on mine, pinning it to my desk. The pause gives me time to realize that there is nothing I could say --even shouting a denial--would only make things worse.

Hanashita's friends snicker. Many of our other classmates look shocked, though I don't know if it is from her blunt words, or if they believe her accusation.

Shizuku looks at me. Hanashita's frown follows her gaze. The flat tone of her reply seems to lack conviction, as if she were simply reading a school assignment out loud. "Ametsuchi-san stopped them. He saved me."

I hide my face in my hands. She may be trying to help me with my classmates, but it only makes it look like we've planned this scene.

"Only a fool would think Ametsuchi-san the type of person to do that."

Her calm words strike like a slap. Everyone's eyes jerk to Kyoko. Kyoko slowly sinks down in her chair.

Shizuku's narrow-eyed stare stays fixed on me as she continues. "Such a person should not even think they know Amestuchi-san at all."

Himura, Shimura and Kyoko's other friends lean back in shock. I want to crawl under my desk and die. At least their gasps cover my groan. Calling Kyoko a fraud, saying Kyoko doesn't love me, only makes us look more guilty.

This was a mistake—a horrible mistake. Why did I ever think Shizuku could help me? She doesn't believe anyone is capable of love. Now everyone is going to think she is challenging Kyoko for my affections. I want to leap up and shout for her to be quiet. I want to defend Kyoko...but what could I say?

The classroom falls into dead silence. Everyone holds their breath. Wide-eyed gazes dart between Kyoko and Shizuku. The air is heavy with the weight of a massive storm waiting to burst.

The classroom door breaks the silence and Takasagi-sensei enters. The class president's chair scrapes across the floor as she rises to call the class to attention. But, before she can say anything, Kyoko leaps to her feet and runs from the room, weeping. The rest of us look on in stunned amazement.

The silence lasts throughout the first period, then dissolves into urgent whispers in the break before second period. After a while, Kyoko returns.

"Are you feeling better?" Yamada asks.

Kyoko doesn't answer, just sits at her desk, head bowed, shoulders scrunched together.

I remain behind Watanabe, hiding my face in my crossed arms lying on my desk. My stomach is clenched in a nauseated knot.

The math teacher calls out to me. "Ametsuchi-san?"

I look up. "Hai?"

"Your turn."

Ah. Yes. We were doing math problems on the board—the problems I was supposed to be doing for my homework. The teacher had been going down the row, calling on us in turn. It's my turn to solve the problem on the board.

Snickering whispers follow me to the front of the classroom. Everyone's attention is focused on me. My body feel strangely detached, as if I'm controlling my shaking hand from a distance as it picks up a chalk. I touch it to the blackboard, but I can't move it.

How did I get here? The year had started so well—unbelievably well. How did everything go so wrong? When did everything start to turn? At what precise moment did everything begin to change? What could I have done differently?

My vision grows watery. Am I actually going to cry? Right now? In front of everyone? I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself.

The screech of tires and crumpling steel echo through my memories. The blur of spinning handrails, the stench of blood, the crushing darkness, the cold breath of the shinigami opening the passage into the land of the dead... I think of the girl sitting in Shizuku's desk. No, I can't say it's her fault. She hasn't done anything but to try to warn me.

The teacher says my name. "Ametsuchi-san?"

Why does she care if I believe in love or not? Why would she challenge me to prove it? Why didn't she just take Kyoko's soul and move on?

"Ametsuchi-san? Do you not know how to do the problem?"

My classmates break out in open laughter.

For no reason, I remember a passing conversation between my parents while watching the news. Dad said that true atheists don't care if God exists or not. The radical ones who insist that nobody should believe aren't really atheists. They're just mad at God.

I sag and lean my forehead against the chalkboard. Is Shizuku mad at love?

"You didn't do your homework, did you?"

I turn a sob into a deep breath.

"Go back to your desk. Kanada-san, you're next."

I force my way back through the derisive laughter. Kanada, who sits behind me, approaches the front of the classroom. She steps aside as we pass as if my touch might contaminate her.

"Ametsuchi-san?"

I pause and look back at the teacher. "Eh?"

"Hurry up and apologize to Fukui-san. Your grades are terrible."

My classmates roar with laughter. What's the use, I think, returning to my desk. There's no way I can stay at this school now. Watanabe looks at me sorrowfully. His usual calm confidence is gone. I think even he has even lost his faith in my future. Kyoko is nearly bent double hiding in shame. Shimura alone looks at me with something like pity.

My classmates dismiss me. I am ignored, even at lunch. I can't eat anyway.

P.E. is after lunch. We are running outside. I find a place behind the bleachers to hide before the teacher shows up. Realizing how stupid I'm being, I sneak back to the classroom alone. The quiet loneliness is comforting, but it feels like the room is waiting to pounce on me. Too soon, my classmates begin returning. At least they ignore me, Just before class starts, I hear surprised comments out in the hallway.

"Who is that?"

"What is she wearing?

"What is she doing dressed like that?"

Shizuku enters the classroom. Her school uniform flutters as she moves, brief flashes of ivory skin and plain black underwear show through numerous tears. Both her skirt and her blouse have been shredded.

"Eh?" The whole class is startled. Kyoko looks away as if deliberately ignoring her.

"Shizuku-san!" I've never heard Takasagi-sensei shout like this before. "What do you mean by coming to class dressed like that?"

Shizuku looks down at her ruined uniform. Where most girls would be horrified to be seen in public wearing such a revealing outfit, Shizuku merely looks uneasy. Even this behavior is quite a change for her. "I found it like this after P.E."

Takasagi-sensei thrust an imperative finger toward the door. "Go change back into your P.E. clothes. That uniform is indecent!"

Of course, I think. She broke up with Kurosawa. The girls won't hold back now.

For the first time in a while, I feel sorry for someone other than myself.

I don't stay for osoji. Even though it's rude, I leave the cleaning to my classmates and go home. I pass by an arcade and see a bunch of middle-schoolers, some of whom are wearing my old school's uniform. I remember the fun I had with my friends, how much money and time we wasted together. I wish I could turn back the clock. I wish I could go back to only looking at Kyoko from a distance. At least, back then—no matter how unlikely—there was still hope.

I look up and the sky is dark. How much time did I spend watching them? I hurry home. It's nearly dinner time. My parents must be worried. I'm surprised they haven't called me. I wonder what could have distracted them.

"Tadaima!" I announce my return, pausing in the genkan to remove my shoes.

"Ah, he's back."

"That's good. We should discuss this with him as well."

Strange voices come from the living room, male voices. Why do I feel something very bad is waiting for me?

I walk slowly to the living room feeling that I will soon regret every step.

Sitting on the couch with my parents, waiting for me with serious expressions, are my homeroom teacher Takasagi-sensei and principal Wakahisa-sensei.