𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍 | gojo s.

𝟑

The following morning, I walk through the school gates, the crisp air biting at my skin. Autumn is in full swing, and the leaves crunch beneath my shoes as I follow the familiar path toward the main building. It should be comforting, this routine — the sound of my cane tapping against the sidewalk, the soft chatter of students milling about. But today, something feels off. There’s a strange sense of anticipation hanging in the air, like a thread of tension ready to snap.

Mizuki is waiting for me by the entrance, her voice carrying through the noise as she calls out my name. I wave in her direction and make my way toward her, feeling the warmth of her arm loop through mine. As always, her presence is a comfort, grounding me when my thoughts threaten to spiral.

“You’re unusually quiet today,” Mizuki remarks, her tone light, but I can hear the curiosity beneath her words. “Is it Gojo again?”

I frown, unsure of how to answer. Gojo’s face — well, not his face exactly, but the memory of his voice, his smirking tone — has been lingering in my mind since the café incident. It’s irritating how easily he’s gotten under my skin, like a splinter I can’t seem to pull out.

“Maybe,” I admit after a moment. “I don’t understand why he keeps showing up.”

Mizuki snorts. “Because he’s a jerk with too much time on his hands. You shouldn’t let him bother you.”

“I’m not,” I say, though the words feel hollow. “It’s just… strange. Why me?”

Mizuki hums thoughtfully, but before she can reply, I hear the distinct sound of giggling. High-pitched, sharp, and unmistakably directed at us.

“Look who it is,” a voice cuts through the chatter, laced with mockery. “The blind girl and her loyal dog.”

I stiffen, recognizing the voice instantly. Aiko. The queen bee of our grade, and the last person I want to deal with right now. She’s always been like this — cruel in subtle ways, always finding something to pick at, especially when it comes to people like me. People who are different.

Mizuki’s grip on my arm tightens, her posture going rigid beside me. “Ignore them,” she mutters under her breath, but there’s a sharp edge to her voice, one that tells me she’s barely holding back.

I try to heed her advice, but it’s difficult when Aiko and her two minions — Hinata and Keiko — are standing right in our path, blocking the entrance like a pack of wolves circling their prey.

“Well, well, if it isn’t Sakura,” Aiko purrs, her tone sickly sweet. “How’s the world look today? Or, wait, I guess you wouldn’t know, would you?”

Hinata and Keiko snicker, and I feel my cheeks heat with embarrassment, the familiar burn of humiliation creeping up my neck. I grip my cane tighter, my knuckles turning white as I try to hold back the anger bubbling inside me.

Suddenly, I’m not at this school anymore. The laughter around me fades into the background, replaced by memories I’ve tried hard to forget.

I’m standing in the hallway of my old school. The air is thick with the smell of disinfectant and sweat. It’s lunch break, but instead of going to the cafeteria, I’m hiding near the lockers, trying to keep my head down. My cane taps lightly against the floor, a sound that feels like a beacon for the vultures circling above.

“Hey, freak!”

The voice hits me like a punch to the gut, but I don’t turn around. Maybe if I ignore them, they’ll go away.

“Where do you think you’re going, huh?” Another voice, this one closer. I can hear the shuffle of feet as they approach. “You think you can just walk around like you’re normal?”