In the corner of the classroom, Kaito Narumi's desk gets kicked again. His textbooks hidden, his indoor shoes thrown away, and the usual words: "Read the room, loser." At Meikyo Academy, a prestigious private high school in Tokyo, Kaito is invisible. Nobody cares. Nobody helps. He's just the bullied kid.
But nobody knows the truth. After school, in the empty classroom, Kaito's phone buzzes nonstop. "Amane-san, do you have the past midterm papers?" "How much for dirt on that teacher?" "Can you i
Laughing Behind the Scenes - The Night of Preparation — Taking Out Frustrations and Sneaking into the Gymnasium
Monday morning.
Class 2-C's classroom buzzed with excitement over the culture festival preparations. It was slightly different from the usual morning clamor. Colored construction paper and scissors lay scattered across the desks. From the hallway came the sounds of students from other classes carrying cardboard boxes and paintbrushes.
Narumi Kaito walked toward his seat in the last row by the window. His deep brown eyes behind black-rimmed glasses briefly caught the crowd gathering in the center of the classroom.
"Hey, listen up. This year's Kyoka Festival—our class is definitely taking first place."
Kurokawa Tatsuya sat perched on a desk, laughing as usual. Brown hair with a center part. Sharp, dark brown eyes. The piercing in his left ear glinted in the morning light. A few students around him offered forced smiles at his words.
Kurokawa suddenly picked up the planning document from the teacher's podium.
"Last year was a haunted house. This year it's a maid café. It's decided—maid café."
"Ehh, again?"
"Shut up. If you've got complaints, then you come up with a plan. Can you? Huh? No, you can't. That's why I'm doing the job of leader for you."
Kurokawa glared at his classmates. A few shrugged. No one objected.
One by one, gazes dropped from Kurokawa's face to the floor.
Kaito averted his eyes and sat down at his desk. Over by the lockers, Tanabe Kenta had made himself small beside Kurokawa. He kept pressing down his curly brown hair with his hand, his eyes darting restlessly. His complexion was pale again today. The moment his eyes nearly met Kaito's, he quickly looked away.
Kurokawa suddenly turned toward Kaito.
"Oh right. Narumi, you're on trash duty."
The air in the classroom stiffened slightly.
Everyone's gaze converged on Kaito.
He slowly looked toward Kurokawa. He said nothing. It was too much trouble to speak. No matter how he reacted here, Kurokawa would just laugh.
"Didn't you hear me? Trash duty. During festival prep, you clean up all the trash. Carry desks, sweep floors, do whatever. That's the one job you're capable of, isn't it?"
Kurokawa's mouth twisted into a malicious grin.
From the back of the classroom came quiet snickering. A few students awkwardly averted their eyes. No one objected.
Tanabe Kenta remained hunched beside Kurokawa. His hands gripped the hem of his pants tightly.
Kaito gave a small nod.
"...Fine."
His voice was as small and mumbling as ever.
(This is fine.)
(The more you throw your weight around—the more I'll enjoy the main event.)
A cold voice whispered in his heart.
When homeroom ended, the day of festival preparation began.
Class 2-C was in an uproar. Kurokawa had them hauling lumber for the maid café sign, cutting fabric for wall decorations, and pushing all the desks to the back.
"Hey, Tanabe. What the hell are you doing? Carry it more carefully. You chipped the corner!"
"S-sorry. I'll get a replacement right away..."
"Forget it, just go! You're useless!"
Tanabe, his face pale, rushed out of the classroom.
"Hey, Narumi. Clean up that trash over there. What are you spacing out for?"
Kaito stood up without a word.
No one helped until after school. Trash sorting, moving desks, mopping the floor. Even during lunch break, Kurokawa's group was making noise at the window-side premium seats in the "Mirage" cafeteria, leaving Kaito alone in the classroom.
In the evening, when the classroom finally grew quiet.
Kaito was bundling up a large pile of cardboard by himself. Outside the window, it was already dark. The autumn night breeze blew in through the open window.
"I'll help."
Suddenly, a voice came from behind.
He turned to see Majima Riku standing at the classroom entrance. His long white hair was tied back in a single ponytail, and his narrow gray-blue eyes gave off a cold impression. His features were well-defined, yet hard to read emotionally.
"...Do whatever you want."
Kaito said curtly.
Riku entered the classroom without answering. Silently, he began picking up the scattered construction paper. His efficiency in gathering the fragments into cardboard boxes was surprisingly meticulous.
For a while, the two worked in silence.
That incident on the dark road that night—the humiliation of being forced to kneel. Riku knew about it. But he asked nothing.
He just stood beside him, silently moving his hands.
(...What a strange guy.)
Kaito muttered in his heart.
By the time the work reached a stopping point, it was past seven at night.
Almost no students remained in the school building. Not even the sounds of club activities could be heard. The entire building was as quiet as the bottom of the sea.
The two made their way behind the school building toward the gymnasium, careful not to be seen.
The gymnasium entrance was locked. Riku pulled a key from his uniform pocket.
"Let's finish everything while we can."
A small click. The iron door opened slightly.
Stepping inside, a stuffy air and cold darkness pressed in on them.
At night, the white parts of the gymnasium seemed to float faintly in the darkness. The ceiling framework. The tiers of the spectator seats. On the stage, a large screen hung silently.
"This way."
Riku's voice was low and taut.
Kaito, keeping watch behind them, advanced toward the AV equipment room at the side of the stage.
The equipment room was smaller than expected. On one wall, colorful cables hung down like an avalanche. On the middle shelf sat the projector control panel and an audio mixer. In the back, an old monitor covered in dust sat sunken in the shadows.
"The projector's main input line is here. I'll splice in a receiver so your secondary smartphone can connect wirelessly."
Riku efficiently spread out the wiring diagram.
"What I've installed is a pass-through receiver. Normally, the regular input goes through. But the moment it receives a specific signal from your secondary phone, it can hijack the input."
"...How's the precision compared to the one we tested before?"
"On a completely different level. The switching lag is nearly zero."
Kaito nodded silently.
Riku pulled a small device from his bag. Meanwhile, Kaito launched a dummy video from his secondary phone for transmission testing.
A faint electronic sound ran through the speakers.
The sound of a switch flipping.
"Video input is coming through. I've set it up so I can view it from my phone too."
Riku pointed toward the stage.
On the massive 150-inch screen, a blue test pattern glowed faintly.
The image shone clearly.
"Success."
"Yeah. On the day, you can remotely control it from your secondary phone and broadcast Kurokawa's footage onto that big screen. The audio can also blast from every speaker in the venue at full volume."
Kaito clenched his fist.
Sweat seeped into his palm.
With this, the preparations—were complete.
The work finished, and they locked the equipment room.
The two sat down at the side of the quiet gymnasium stage. The dim emergency exit light glowed green.
Riku suddenly spoke, still facing away.
"Do you really think this will be the end of it?"
A quiet but clear voice.
Kaito didn't answer.
"..."
He gripped the wiring of the equipment in his hands. The hard surface of the cord dug into his fingertips. It didn't hurt. He didn't have the capacity to feel pain.
"Revenge shouldn't be everything you are."
"...Like I'd know."
He barely managed to force the words out.
"I see."
Riku said nothing more.
Silence swelled in the darkness.
Tuesday.
With the culture festival being the next day, the gymnasium was overflowing with decorations.
For the maid café, Class 2-C was supposed to attach a large ribbon decoration to the edge of the stage. A big ribbon made of pink and white fabric. Several students were putting on the finishing touches.
"What the hell is this?! It's lame! Seriously lame!"
Kurokawa suddenly shouted.
He kicked the pink ribbon displayed beside the stage with all his might.
A thud as it hit the wall.
The ribbon fell to the floor. Part of the frame had snapped with a crack.
"It's your fault it looks lame!"
Kurokawa pointed at Kaito, who was cleaning up nearby.
The classmates held their breath.
"It's because you don't do your job properly. Because he doesn't clean properly, the ribbon's angle is all wrong. ...It's all your fault."
Kurokawa kicked the broken ribbon frame toward Kaito's feet.
Plastic fragments struck Narumi Kaito's sneakers.
"Clean it up already. Just looking at you pisses me off."
With that, Kurokawa walked off with his friends.
Tanabe followed a little behind at a quick trot. His back was hunched.
Kaito knelt down, expressionless.
He picked up the scattered fragments one by one. The ribbon's fabric had come unstitched, reduced to a pitiful shape.
Pick up. Pick up. Pick up.
(This anger too—)
(Just three more days.)
(Endure it.)
His right hand trembled slightly.
He put the collected fragments into a trash bag. His fingertips wouldn't move properly.
Anger rose slowly from the pit of his stomach. The back of his throat burned hot.
Even so, his face didn't move.
—Because he had practiced. For six whole years.
At the far end of the hallway, someone was watching.
It was Majima Riku.
He stood with his lips pressed together, staring intently at Kaito.
His eyes wavered, as if he wanted to say something.
But he didn't voice it.
After finishing the cleanup, Kaito headed to the second reference room.
The school building after hours was quiet.
Fourth floor of the main building, an old door at the very end. He inserted the spare key and turned it.
With a creak, the door opened.
The smell of old books and dust.
A place where no one came—a place where he could feel at ease.
From behind the bookshelf, he took out his secondary smartphone and a small laptop. He placed them on a bookshelf serving as a desk and powered them on.
In the dark room, the light of the LCD screen spread out.
An old, unfocused small light flickered on and off.
On his secondary phone, he opened the evidence files on Kurokawa's group.
The cheating video.
The shoplifting footage.
The defamation logs from their secret accounts.
The screenshots of the sugar daddy suspicions.
He checked them one by one, tracing them with his finger.
He rehearsed the order of display over and over in his head.
First, Kurokawa's cheating.
Next, Tanabe's shoplifting.
Then, the true nature of the other members.
"...With this, I can end it all."
He muttered quietly.
His voice trembled slightly.
(With this, it can end.)
(Just two more days.)
He closed the screen.
Riku's question repeated in his head.
—Do you really think this will be the end of it?
Kaito remained silent, staring up at the ceiling.
The unfocused light turned on, went off, then on again.
His eyes behind the glasses burned quietly in the dim darkness.
Only forty-eight hours remained until the culture festival's opening ceremony.
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