Shadow

Chapter Eight

Tomohiro

“Shiori!” I shouted as I neared the courtyard of her school. It was a private girls’ academy, but I didn’t hesitate, just plowed straight through groups of girls in their crimson blazers and tartan skirts, past the open iron gates and toward the door of the main building.

I flung the door open. Their genkan wasn’t as old-fashioned as ours. Instead of shoe cubbies, rows of beige half lockers filled the room.

A few of the girls looked up at me with wide eyes, but I ignored them, weaving between them like they weren’t even there. On the other side of a row of lockers I heard the muffled sobs.

“Shiori?”

The sobbing stopped.

“Tomo-kun?”

Shiori was the one person I had let get close to me, because despite everything that had happened—the accidents, the accusations—she had never doubted me. If I could just protect her, maybe I wouldn’t have to accept what the nightmares repeated, that I was destined for nothing but destruction and death. If I protected her, my life could have meaning. I could fight what I knew I was.

I looked down the next row of lockers and found her sitting on the floor in a slump, surrounded by crumpled white papers. Her locker door hung open, the corner of it warped in a new and ugly dent. 

“Are you okay?” I said. I crouched down beside her, and my movement sent several more of the white papers tumbling from her locker. She shook her head, the tears streaking down her face as she wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand.

I picked up one of the crumpled papers and unfolded it. Giant kanji scrawled across it, childish names like dirty slut with Shiori’s phone number scrawled at the bottom. You don’t need a kotatsu table to keep warm. Call Shiori! She’ll sleep with anyone! It was the filth of washroom graffiti, juvenile really, but Shiori’s petite frame shook with sobs.

I scrunched the paper into a ball. “Assholes,” I said. “You know who it was?”

She shook her head again, her voice almost a whisper. She looked as pale as the lockers, like if I touched her shoulder she might just vanish completely.

One of the girls leaned over, her hands clasped in front of her. “Um…are you her boyfriend? I don’t think you’re supposed to be here—”

“Shut it,” I snapped, and she held her hands up.

“Mou! Just trying to warn you. You want to get her in more trouble?”

I stood up, my bangs falling into my eyes as I stared at her. “If you girls looked out for each other I wouldn’t have to be here,” I growled. “What, are you going to just let her sit there in a pile of hate mail? What if it was you, huh? What if you had the whole school breathing down your neck because they weren’t getting any?”

“Tomo-kun, stop.” Shiori’s voice trembled and the rage in me melted away. What the hell was with me today?

The other girl looked at me like I was crazy, but I didn’t care. “Sorry,” I mumbled to Shiori, and started scooping up armfuls of the paper. The girl stood watching for a minute, then turned and left silently. Like she wasn’t just ignoring the bullying. I cursed under my breath.

“It’s okay,” Shiori said. “It’s nice that you’re mad.”

“Mad? I’m furious. Fuming, you might say.” She fought a smile, so I kept pushing. “I’m enraged. Incensed!” A small smile broke through, and I grinned. Back in control, finally. “Let’s get a bag to put these in, and then I’m taking you to get shabu shabu for dinner.”