Inky's Collection of Shorts

even kings fall

He closed one eye, his face scrunching up in concentration, as he aimed at the little trash bin in the far corner of the room. It was the ultimate shot; from the other end of the class, as big of a distance as possible stretching out between him as his goal, it seemed almost impossible.

"Come on, Shoya!"

He drew back his hand and threw. The paper ball traced a perfect arc through the air, before landing neatly in the faraway bin.

Keisuke threw his hands up. "Score!"

Shoya reached out, accepting his friend's fist bump with a delighted shout of his own. Two tables across, Naoka glanced back at him from where she sat, perched on the edge of the desk. The other onlookers, who had clustered in a tight group behind him, erupted into cheers. He slapped a high five as Kazuki began wadding up another ball, fully intent on trying out Shoya's move for himself.

A tap on the top of his head caught his attention. Naoka leaned in close to him, her hair falling over her shoulder. Behind her, the other girls laughed into their sleeves. "Hey, Shoya," Naoka said, "where did you learn to throw like that?"

Shoya leaned back in his chair and grinned up at her. "I was born with it, of course. This sort of natural talent? It would take years to get as good as I am now."

He brushed back his hair dramatically, his grin widening. Kazuki threw his own ball. It bounced across the floor and landed dejectedly next to the bin.

The sound of footsteps made them all look up. The teacher walked in, holding a stack of materials in his hands. His gaze fell on the paper ball at his feet before rising up again, landing on Shoya. He raised a brow.

Shoya scooched his chair back in place. The rest of the students shuffled back to their seats, their voices quieting as the teacher raised a hand for their attention. "The test is on Tuesday," he said. He held up his stack. "I suggest you all start paying attention. Now...."

***

The principal looked severe. His teacher's gaze was downcast, standing beside the man at the front, his arms crossed in front of him.

"...transferred to another class," the principal was saying. "If anyone has any information on the bullying, speak up now. If no one talks, we'll be forced to bring this matter up with your parents."

The room stayed dead quiet. Tension stretched out between each desk, like an elastic band just barely on the verge of breaking. They all knew. They all knew which of them was the reason for her leaving.

"Shoya Ishida!"

Shoya flinched and scrambled to his feet. His teacher glared at him. "We all know it's you," he said. His voice had fallen back into its usual cadence, but there was no mistaking the disgust in his words. "Naoka. You sit right next to him. Tell us what you've seen."

He glanced over at her. Naoka stared straight ahead, refusing to meet his eyes. "W-well... he did bully her a bit."

"Kazuki?"

Kazuki tilted his head. "I told him to stop," he said, moving his hand away from his hand. "Shoya never listens to anyone."

"But..." Shoya stammered, "but you did too. You did it with me! You and Kaisuke!" He could see the back of Kaisuke's head, seated in the front row. The boy didn't move. "A-and the girls! Naoka and Miki bullied her, too!"

None of them looked at him, but he could feel the spotlight that shone on him, drawing a distinct circle that separated him from the rest. The principal looked disappointed. His teacher looked irritated, his piercing eyes drilling a hole right through him.

***

Water dripped down his head, running along the edges of the wet notebook covering his hair, before falling to the pool below. Shoya blinked slowly as he stared at his clothes, soaked entirely through and hugging his body in a cold embrace. A piece of junk — some sort of weed? He didn't want to think about it too much — bobbed beside him as the rest of his books floated past lifelessly. The fountain kept bubbling, oblivious to the boy in its waters. He let out a soft exhale.

His gaze drifted up. Kazuki stared down at him, taking in the scene with half-lidded eyes. He scoffed and turned away. "See you tomorrow, Shoya."

Shoya scrunched in his shoulders. Right. He'd see them all tomorrow, all of them who had laughed with him. All of them who had played pass and catch with him. All of them who'd turned their backs on him so easily, leaving him standing alone, watching each step take them further and further away.

He watched Kazuki and Keisuke's figures recede. They'd spent every day together racing down the street, waving flags and shouting as loud as their lungs could bear. They'd set off fireworks and watched as the sparks danced above their heads. They'd leapt off shallow bridges and into the waiting waters below. It was prohibited, of course, but who cared?

Maybe he should have.

***

He propped his head up with one hand and stared out the window. Clouds had rolled across the sky, draping above the school like a thick wool blanket. He could barely see a bit of blue peeking out from behind the layer of white and grey. The sun was nonexistent, completely hidden by the clouds.

The professor had left the room a while ago, leaving the class all by themselves. The other students were milling around, laughing and chatting with each other, although to him it sounded like they were talking through a veil. Even so, he could imagine what they were saying.

"Shoya never hangs out with anyone, what a loser."

"Doesn't he realize he's taking up space? There's no reason for him to be here."

Subconsciously, his hands drifted up to cover his ears. They were right, of course. What was he doing there? He didn't interact with anyone. His grades were... alright, but they could be better. He could study more. Or maybe he simply wasn't fit to improve them. That was how they would always be.

Shoya pushed back his chair and stood up. He could feel eyes on him as he left, watching him. Judging his moves.

"Good. At least he has the sense to leave."

The door closed behind him. He kept his gaze trained on the floor as he walked, following the lines that outlined the start and end of each tile. Shoes moved past him; sets of feet attached to legs, legs attached to people that he couldn't bring himself to see. The tiles were opaque, but they were clear enough that he could see his own blurry face staring back up at him. He met his own eyes and winced, looking away.

He had a job to keep hold of, too. If he had to choose between his job and his grades, then the answer was the job. But he could almost see the disappointed look in his mother's eyes at the sight of another failed report card. Shouldn't he at least try to keep up for her sake?

A sigh rattled out of him. Shoya ran a hand down his face and stepped into the bathroom. He watched as the stall door closed with a muted thud, blocking out the washroom light until there was nothing left to accompany him.