The leader—a boy with expensive sneakers and cheap cruelty—blinked. “What?”
The phrase echoed in my skull: my body, my body, my body. Not as a prayer. As a promise. ijimeru nara watashi no karada ni shite!
The world teaches you that cruelty is a force of nature—unavoidable, like rain or rust. But rain can be redirected. Rust can be scraped off. And cruelty, if you’re brave or stupid enough, can be aimed. The leader—a boy with expensive sneakers and cheap
“Because someone did it for me once,” I lied. No one had. But someone should have. And now, someone would. As a promise
That night, I traced the bruise forming on my shoulder blade. Purple and green, ugly and tender. A map of someone else’s anger. But also—a shield. Not for me. For the kid who went home unbroken.