Classroom of Accomplices: The Honor Student Falls by Her Hand - The same breath from the seat next to mine

"Why is it always me?" He hadn't meant to say it out loud. But the words definitely made the air in the classroom tremble. After school, in a classroom that should have been empty. Murakami Hiroto lay slumped over his desk, eyes closed. The cold surface of the desk against his cheek. The classroom of Class 2-1 at Hidemichi High School, silent as if the daytime clamor had been a lie. A private college-prep school standing on the hills in the southern part of Kasumigahara City. Outside the window, the green of the hill behind the school, bathed in evening light, looked deeply subdued. (*Hah...*) A sigh escaped him. Today had been the seat-change day. As class representative, he had prepared the lottery, listened to everyone's complaints while letting them slide, and somehow managed to keep things moving smoothly. Those guys, all they did was complain. "Why do I have to be stuck away from the window?" "Ugh, I liked where I was before." "Who's next to me? This sucks." He'd heard all of it. But Murakami Hiroto had kept smiling. With the perfect smile of an honor student. Gently narrowing his dark brown eyes, unconsciously running a hand through his short brown hair. "Come on, don't be like that. Let's all get along for the year." His own voice sounded distant. (*...I'm tired.*) Something creaked deep in his chest. His 174-centimeter body, trained by the soccer club, suddenly felt heavy. Even though his shoulders were broad and he should have had more stamina than anyone. *Thump, thump.* His heart was strangely loud. It had always been like this. Every time he heard the ringtone of his mother Youko's calls, it happened. Just seeing the word "Mom" appear on his phone screen made his breathing shallow. (*She hasn't even said anything yet.*) In his pocket, his phone vibrated. He didn't want to look. But if he didn't, he didn't know what she'd say to him later. Murakami slowly sat up. Outside the window, the residential streets of Kasumigahara City were sinking into twilight. This was Hidemichi High School—at the top of a hill, a twelve-minute bus ride south from the central station on the private Minase Line. Deviation score: 62. Total students: 720. School motto: "Self-Discipline and Coexistence." Nothing but pretty words. In reality, it was just a managed school that bound its students with grades and college admission results. Teachers and students alike turned a blind eye. (*Everyone in this town clings to being "normal."*) The thought came to him suddenly. A normal family, a normal path, a normal smile. And if you deviated even slightly from that, it was over. On the back wall of the classroom hung the college admissions board. Walking down the hallway, you could hear teachers yelling from some classroom. ...This is no good. The more he thought, the deeper he sank. Murakami slumped over his desk again. "Why is it always me?" This time, he clearly said it out loud. He felt relieved, in a classroom that should have been empty. That was why he didn't notice. Someone was standing at the classroom entrance. *Clack.* The sound of indoor shoes echoed quietly. Murakami's body froze. He slowly raised his head. There stood Uchiyama Sara. Expressionless, she stared at Murakami with deep black eyes that seemed to draw you in. Long, glossy black hair flowing down her back. Her bangs, falling over her cheeks, cast shadows over her eyes. A small frame. About 152 centimeters, he thought. (*Oh no...*) The blood drained from his face. Did she hear that just now? "U-Uchiyama..." His voice cracked. She said nothing. She just quietly entered the classroom. Her footsteps drew closer. Murakami felt his heart pounding like a warning bell. (*Why is she...*) Uchiyama Sara. The girl who had ended up in the seat next to him in today's seat change. But until then, he had barely spoken to her in class. No—he hadn't been able to. She was always alone, either reading a book or staring out the window. She never tried to open up to anyone in the class. Dark, and silent. Her very existence seemed to melt into the air. That was the kind of person she was. "What, did you forget something?" He plastered on a fake smile, doing his best to feign composure. Uchiyama walked to her desk and gave a small nod. With a *rattle*, she pulled a paperback from inside her desk. It was Abe Kobo's *The Woman in the Dunes*. A cover he often saw in the library. "So that's what you forgot." The silence was painful. *Please, just leave.* He wished for it. But Uchiyama didn't move. Clutching the paperback to her chest, she stood there, staring down at Murakami. That gaze was terrifying. (*Did she hear what I said...*) No, it wasn't certain. Even if she had heard, he just wanted her to pretend she hadn't. "...Why?" Uchiyama's lips moved faintly. A small, whisper-like voice. "Why didn't you help me?" His heart jumped. "...Huh?" "During today's seat change. No one wanted to sit next to me. They were complaining about the lottery results." That was true. The moment it was clear Uchiyama would be next to them, the boys around her had made openly disgusted faces. The girls had awkwardly averted their eyes. Murakami had seen it. He had seen it, but said nothing. (*Well, what was I supposed to do...*) Making a fuss there would have only made things more troublesome. Besides, Uchiyama being isolated was her own problem. Something cold muttered deep in his chest. "...Sorry." What came out of his mouth was an apology. Uchiyama tilted her head. The gesture was somehow like that of a broken doll. "You don't need to apologize." A voice with no readable emotion. "Because I think the same thing." And then, Uchiyama— smiled, just a little. It was such a small change that it could hardly be called a smile. But her lips definitely, slightly, curved upward. Her eyes narrowed just a fraction. "...Huh?" It took a few seconds to understand the meaning of her words. (*The same thing?*) What I said earlier. —Why is it always me? So that's what she meant. Inside Murakami, something slowly began to crumble. Having the mask of the perfect honor student peeled away by someone else. It was a sensation he'd never felt before. "...You heard me." His voice was hoarse. Uchiyama nodded. Embarrassment and terror turned his mind completely blank. But at the same time— (*...Ah.*) What was this feeling? In front of her, the mask wasn't necessary. No—it wasn't that it wasn't necessary. She had seen through it from the very beginning. *I think the same thing.* Those words seeped into the hard, frozen part deep in his chest. *Thump, thump.* His heart was loud. It was slightly different from that unpleasant pounding from before. "...You're weird." Before he knew it, he had muttered it. Uchiyama smiled just a little again. "Maybe so." She narrowed her eyes. *Like a cat that's found its prey,* Murakami thought. But that gaze didn't feel unpleasant. "See you, Murakami-kun." With that, Uchiyama left the classroom. Her black hair swayed in the twilight. Left behind, Murakami stood there for a while. (*What was that just now...*) His chest was restless. Her smile—that resigned smile. In it, there was a deep darkness, something different from sadness or anger. He had touched it. He had been made to touch it. It was too eerie to call pleasant. Too alluring to call frightening. That was the feeling. The chime echoed through the classroom. Time to leave school completely. Murakami picked up his bag. He had to go home. If he went home, it would be waiting. His mother Youko's gaze. A fifteen-minute walk from Hidemichi High School. A twelve-year-old detached house in the new residential area "South Hills Kasumigaoka." The exterior was neat, and the neighbors called it "a fine home." But to Murakami, it was a cage. "I'm home." When he opened the front door, the air was cold. There was little sense of life. The spacious 4LDK house contained only the bare minimum of furniture. All of it managed by his mother. In Hiroto's room, there was nothing but reference books and a calendar. Not a single poster on the walls. "Welcome home." His mother's voice came from the living room. Murakami Youko. Forty-nine years old. A full-time housewife. A neat black bob. Her bangs were perfectly even, dyed to hide the gray. Large, beautiful double-lidded eyes. She had a habit of staring directly into people's eyes, which was intimidating. Youko sat on the sofa, reading some magazine. "You're late today." "Yeah, committee work ran a little long." He plastered on a fake smile. "I see. That must be hard. But it's something you chose to do, isn't it? Class representative, and the soccer club." "...Yeah." "If you're going to do something, see it through to the end. Quitting halfway is the most shameful thing." Words full of thorns. But Murakami kept smiling and replied, "I know." He returned to his room, loosened his tie, and collapsed onto the bed. He pulled out his phone. The screen was full of notifications. The class group chat. (*More badmouthing someone, probably.*) He didn't even feel like looking. When he opened LINE, there was a message from his mother. "What are your plans for tomorrow?" "Did you finish your cram school homework?" "Don't stop anywhere on the way home." His stomach tightened painfully. (*I know, okay.*) With his finger, he forced himself to send a smiling stamp. At that moment, his phone vibrated. An incoming call. The word "Mom." Murakami's breath stopped. (*Why is she calling... I just replied to her message.*) But he couldn't not answer. "Hello?" He tried to keep his voice from trembling. *'Hiroto, where are you right now?'* A sharp voice. "In my room." *'Really? What happened at school today?'* What happened? Nothing happened. *'Did the seat change go properly? If you don't take charge, that class won't come together, will it?'* "...Yeah, I guess." *'Did the teacher say anything to you? Like you lack awareness as class representative?'* His heart made an unpleasant sound. "No, nothing like that." *'Is that so. Well, good then. You've been spacing out lately, you know. There's not a single thing—soccer, studying—where you can afford to slack off.'* "I know. It's fine." *'Do you really know? I'm saying this for your own good. If you don't do things properly, I'll worry. Do you understand?'* "...I understand. Thanks for worrying about me." Something bitter spread through his mouth. *'Good. Then go to bed early. You can't take a bath until you finish your cram school homework.'* "Yeah. Goodnight." The call ended. Murakami lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling. (*...Why?*) Why couldn't he say what he wanted to say, to the very end? Why did he smile and say "I know"? In his mind, the face of Uchiyama Sara from the classroom at dusk surfaced. *"I think the same thing."* Those words replayed over and over. Deep in his chest, something hot spread slowly. It was anger. And, just a little— (*I want to see her.*) He thought. Lost in emotions he had never felt before, Murakami Hiroto wandered inside his own heart. Outside the window, the night of Kasumigahara quietly deepened.

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Episode 1

Name: Classroom of Accomplices: The Honor Student Falls by Her Hand
Author: Novelia

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