> Strange questions… hesitant answers…
Like she's afraid of something.
Afraid enough that even her smile trembles.
There's no lightness in it — only worry, hidden behind kindness.
— Thanks for lunch, Chiori. It was really good.
— Don't mention it, — she replied, forcing a smile, but even her voice carried a quiet fatigue.
Break time ended, and everyone settled into their seats.
— Alright, let's begin — open your textbooks! — The Japanese teacher walked in, sweeping the room with a gaze sharp enough to pierce steel.
> Why this class? Why Japanese right after lunch?
Brutal.
No chance of napping either — she watches us like a sniper in a tree stand. Unfair.
— Hey… Fio, — Chiori whispered, leaning a bit closer, — are you working again today?
— Yeah… Leaving after this class.
> Why that question, though?
That night… she was out on the street. Not by accident.
Too many coincidences.
Maybe she wanted to say something — but couldn't?
Today… I'll follow her. Find out the truth.
And yeah — I'll leave her some money. Just in case.
— That's a shame.
Class is boring without you…
> Ah. So that's it? Just bored?
Or is it more than that?
Still… feels off.
— Have you tried making any friends?
— Not yet… I'm not really good at that, — she said quietly, eyes dropping to her desk.
— I see…
> Her voice… quieter now.
Like each word takes effort.
That's not shyness.
It's something else.
Thirty-five minutes later…
— That's all for today. You're dismissed, — the teacher announced.
I stood up, slung my backpack over one shoulder, and looked at Chiori.
— Have a good day, Chiori.
— You too, Fio, — her voice was soft… but like it could barely stand on its own feet.
> Enough.
I need to know what's going on with her.
What she's hiding.
Maybe I'm not the only one… carrying something dark inside.