My na is Sakuraba Ema.
Everyone says I'm a cheerful, good girl—always smiling, a bit clumsy but very earnest.
That is roughly the impression I give.
Actually, that isn't the case; I am simply afraid of being alone.
I know that if I make a mistake, soone will co to help ; if I can't answer a question, soone will co to teach ; if I accidentally trip and fall, soone will co to help up.
So occasionally, I commit errors on purpose, just so soone will notice .
That way, I won't be left behind.
Pretty despicable, right? I think so too.
But only by doing this can I be certain that I am still needed by others.
My mother says I've been a child who didn't cause any worries since I was little.
Actually, that isn't the case; I am just working hard at playing a part.
Working hard not to be disliked, working hard not to be excluded, working hard to show a flawless smile.
That's why I have to make many, many friends.
A hundred, if possible—the more, the better.
As long as I have enough friends, I won't beco solitary.
This is the best thod I ca up with.
Later, I t Yuki.
Tsukishiro Yuki.
She was very beautiful, but when she ca to the class, she sat in the corner alone and didn't speak to anyone.
The teacher said she had been very sick and had taken a long leave of absence from school, and was only now returning to classes.
I felt she was very pitiful, always being all by herself.
The teacher asked to take her on a tour of the school. I took her to the library, the gymnasium, and the cafeteria.
She remained silent the whole ti; it was always doing the talking.
"This is the school store. It gets very crowded during breaks, so you have to co early to line up.
Over there is the art room. I'm not very good at drawing; do you like drawing?"
She shook her head.
"Then what do you like?"
She thought for a mont and said, "Spacing out."
I laughed, and she laughed too.
And so, she and I beca friends.
Hiro was there back then too. The three of us were always together. Hiro looked after us like an older sister; she was smart, excellent, and could do anything.
Yuki relied on her heavily, and so did I.
Those days were the warst tis in my mory.
Later, Hiro said she was going to study abroad.
"One year. I'll be back in a year at the latest. Emma, you have to take good care of Yuki, okay?" she said.
I nodded and promised her.
"We have to be best friends forever."
That was the promise the three of us once made.
I didn't keep it.
Not long after Hiro left, those things began to happen.
The reason was that unfortunate events began to occur one after another around Yuki.
Insects I had never seen before sward out of her desk, an odor like a stagnant sewer often emanated from her person, and even flowers would wither.
These reasons alone were enough to make people loathe her.
At first, it was just small things—textbooks went missing, things were drawn on her chair, and no one would help her when it was her turn for classroom duty.
Yuki said it was fine, that it would pass if she just endured it.
Later, it turned into being cornered for interrogation in the hallways, being locked in a stall when she went to the restroom, and her indoor shoes being filled with thumbtacks.
And then—
I close my eyes.
They slamd a tal bucket over her head, pouring the foul wastewater used for washing mops onto her. The water dripped down from the tips of her beautiful silver hair, landing on the floor and spreading into a large puddle.
They covered her clothes in writing and made her stand at the front of the classroom, as if admiring their masterpiece. I no longer rember what words were written there, or rather, I don't want to rember.
She stood in the middle of the crowd.
I stood outside the crowd.
They whispered bad things about Yuki into my ear.
Whispers, giggles, snickers—nothing but mockery and malice.
I just stood there, agreeing with everyone, pretending to laugh.
Because I didn't want to be disliked; it was as simple as that.
What was I doing?
What on earth was I doing?
Later, for so reason, a rumor began to circulate.
They said Tsukishiro Yuki was the incarnation of misfortune, and that anyone who had contact with her would be tainted by bad luck.
I don't know where the rumor ca from.
But people in the class really did start falling ill and taking leave one after another—fevers, coughs, total exhaustion.
Everyone began to look at her with strange eyes.
Even those who bullied her stopped their hands.
I breathed a sigh of relief, thinking things had finally taken a turn for the better.
But a few days later, the truth ca out.
It wasn't a curse at all; so boy from another class had contracted chickenpox and had co to school anyway, spreading the virus to the people in our class.
The classmates who returned to school proved this.
It was chickenpox. It was just chickenpox.
The fear vanished from the faces of the classmates who learned the truth.
There were no more reservations.
That day after school, I saw them call her up to the rooftop.
I followed them up, hiding by the rooftop door.
The sunlight was very piercing.
They surrounded her—one person, two people, three... I couldn't count them all.
I only saw Yuki's figure, tiny, shrinking amidst the crowd. She was still wearing that tal bucket on her head, that sign hanging around her neck, and dirty water was dripping from her body.
'Stop it.
Stop it, stop it, stop it, stop it, stop it...
Stop bullying her!'
That sentence alone was sothing that I, as her friend, could not bring myself to say no matter what.
Because the mont I protested, I would be the next one to be bullied...
A boy passed by .
I didn't see his face clearly; I only rember those eyes—lackluster, like a dead fish.
He pushed those people aside, blocked the way in front of her, and said sothing.
The people blanked for a mont, and then they surrounded him.
They started to get violent.
Fists and feet rained down on his head. He didn't dodge, and he didn't fight back; he just stood there, using his body to block those people.
Soone kicked him, soone hit his head, soone pushed him toward the safety railing.
He still didn't move.
Blood flowed down, trickling from his temple.
I covered my mouth to keep myself from screaming.
Then, Yuki moved.
She took off the tal bucket, threw the sign on the ground, and knelt beside the boy who had been beaten to the floor. Her hand stroked his injured forehead as she looked at those people—she looked for a long ti.
Then, she gently laid the boy down, stepped over the railing, and stood on that narrow ledge.
She turned her head, glanced at , and then showed a smile.
From such a distance, I don't know if she could see .
But I saw her—her face, her eyes—as she softly opened her mouth.
"Ema."
She was calling .
"We have to be best friends forever, okay?"
And then, she leaned backward.
The wind was very strong.
Then…
A dull thud.
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