Ijimeru Nara Watashi No | Karada Ni Shite!

The leader—a boy with expensive sneakers and cheap cruelty—blinked. “What?”

I’d seen this movie before. The same script. Different faces.

“Probably,” I said, straightening my spine. “But I’m also standing right here.”

The smaller kid stared at me, eyes wet and wide. “Why would you—”

The hallway stretched endlessly, fluorescent lights humming like trapped flies. At the far end, a smaller figure was cornered—backpack straps pulled, glasses askew, laughter like broken glass echoing off the lockers.

The sneering ringleader tilted his head. “You’re weird.”

“Ijimeru nara watashi no karada ni shite.”