As I left Hiratsuka-sensei's office, the air felt heavier. Her words still echoed in my head like some half-formed prophecy I hadn't asked for. The hallway stretched out in front of me, hollow and too quiet, like the world itself had taken a breath and forgotten to exhale. I didn't like that. I didn't like any of this.
The student council room, why was I even going there? I didn't owe Alya anything. And yet, here I was, walking toward it like some idiot with a leash around his neck. It was at the far end of the school building, an isolated corner that seemed a little too fitting for the elite and overly enthusiastic.
Still, I walked toward the student council room, a place I never thought I'd willingly approach.
Not for them. For Alya. And even that, I told myself, was just inertia. She asked. I said yes. That was all.
The door was shut but buzzing behind it was a soft, lively hum. Laughter. Voices layered over one another. Familiarity, warmth. Things I didn't trust.
I stood there a second longer than necessary, then knocked twice.
"Come in!" came a bright voice, too enthusiastic for my taste.
I pushed the door open.
The room was bigger than I'd expected. High windows spilled light across polished floors. Posters lined the corkboards. There was a whiteboard in one corner and stacks of papers and cardboard boxes near the back. Organized chaos.
And faces. Too many.
Alya beamed at me. "Aiko! You came!"
She sounded genuinely happy. That made me nervous.
The others looked up. Curiosity. Surprise. Something else, something I couldn't read.
There were three girls I didn't recognize, but something about the way they looked at me made my stomach turn. Like they were actors and I'd just walked into a play I didn't know I was cast in.
Chisaki was the first to draw my attention, short black hair, boyish confidence, but with a sculpted beauty that could've come off a fashion page. She didn't smile, exactly, but her lips curved into something unreadable.
Maria, with her soft brown waves and too-kind eyes, was the kind of person I usually avoided. Too gentle. Too open. But something about her felt... old. Familiar. Dangerous.
And Yuki, refined, beautiful, still. Her long black hair shimmered like ink in sunlight. She looked like she was made of porcelain, and I had the absurd thought that if I touched her, she might crack.
Alya did the introductions like she was proud of them. "Chisaki Sarashina. Maria Mikhailovna Kujou. Yuki Suou."
I nodded at each name, my own expression a mask. Distant. Polite. Inside, I was already building walls.
Another Kujou. My eyes flicked to Maria. Older sister? Cousin? Did it matter?
The student council president, Haruto, stood as Alya waved to him. Clean-cut, calm. The kind of guy teachers loved. He had an easy authority to him, but not the smarmy kind. Just... collected. He met my gaze and smiled.
"Nice to meet you, Aizawa," he said. "We're glad you're here."
I nodded again. Wasn't sure what else to do.
Alya pulled the seat beside her and patted it like she expected me to run. I probably would've ,if I hadn't been so tired of avoiding everything.
I walked over, each step too loud in the room's hush. Their eyes followed me, not in hostility, but in something stranger. Chisaki's gaze was sharp. Yuki's thoughtful. Maria's... something like longing.
What the hell was going on?
"So, Aiko-chan," Chisaki said, voice surprisingly deep and smooth, "first time at one of these meetings?"
"Yeah," I replied, stiffly.
"We're glad you came," Maria said, voice low, warm. "Really."
Why? I wanted to ask. Why are you being so kind? We had just met. Or had we?
Yuki nodded, her gaze soft. "You'll fit in here."
I doubted that.
But I muttered "Thanks" anyway, like that would end the moment.
Haruto cleared his throat, mercifully. "Let's start. We've got planning to do for the sports festival."
Someone pitched a three-legged race. Someone else joked about a punishment game for the losing team. Maria brought up a bake sale. Yuki laughed too brightly when she insisted on "mandatory taste testing," and Chisaki almost choked on her water.
They were all so at ease. Comfortable in their roles, in each other. I watched from the outside, where I always watched. A faint ache curled around my ribs, not jealousy, not exactly. Just... absence.
Then Alya turned to me, soft eyes catching mine. "Any ideas, Aiko? You're creative, right?"
Her hand hovered near mine. Not touching. But close enough I could feel her warmth, feel it drawing me in like a gravity well.
I hesitated. Then spoke. "Get the art clubs involved. Let them design banners or run a painting booth. Something visual. Something... lasting."
I paused. "Or maybe a flash mob."
That got their attention.
Maria's smile lit up. "That's brilliant."
Chisaki leaned forward. "Calligraphy club could do live name drawings. Custom stuff instead of certificates."
Yuki nodded. "Drama club would love to host the relay. More eyes on them."
The ideas bounced around. And just for a moment, I felt part of it. Just a flicker of inclusion, of being... needed.
It terrified me.
I didn't know how to want this.
...
The knock came just as things hit a rhythm.
Haruto stood. "Aizawa, can you help me grab flyers from storage? It's by the west stairwell."
Alya rose immediately. "I'll go too-"
But Maria was already moving. "I'll show him. I know where they are."
The shift in the air was sudden. Alya froze. Her mouth twitched. Her knee bounced. Her eyes locked on Maria with something close to fire.
Haruto, either oblivious or very good at pretending, waved us off.
Maria walked beside me, her steps easy, but her shoulder brushed mine every few seconds like she needed to remind me she was there.
The hallway was long. Quiet. I kept my eyes ahead.
"So, first time doing anything like this?" she asked casually.
"Wasn't planning to. Alya insisted."
"She's persuasive," Maria said, smiling sideways.
I didn't answer. My throat felt tight.
We reached the stairwell. The storage closet was tucked in the corner. Dusty, half-forgotten. She opened it without effort.
Inside was cramped, stacked with boxes. The air smelled like paper and mildew and time.
I reached for a box, but she brushed past me.
"I've got it," I said.
But she ignored me, stretching to reach the top shelf, her sleeve sliding down. Then she crouched low, her skirt brushing my knee.
Performative. Intentional. Maybe. Or maybe I was just paranoid.
We worked in silence for a few minutes, the scrape of cardboard, the rustle of old papers.
Then she said it.
"You don't remember me, do you?"
I froze. The box slipped a little in my grip.
Before I could answer, she wrapped her arms around me. Tight. Certain. Her head pressed to my chest.
Maria's arms wrapped around me suddenly, like she was clutching onto a lifeline thrown into an ocean I was drowning in without knowing how. Her head pressed to my chest, and I could feel the slow, steady beat of her heart beneath my ribs, a rhythm that should've meant something. But all it did was remind me how hollow I felt inside.
"We were close," she whispered, voice trembling like she was trying to convince herself more than me. "All of us. You, me, Chisaki, Yuki... Alya. We were happy."
Happy.
The word felt like a strainger's lie, or maybe a sick joke played on me by some cruel fate. I wanted to recoil, to shove her off and tell her she was wrong, that I didn't belong in whatever story she was weaving. But I couldn't move. Part of me, the part I hated, hung onto her like a desperate idiot.
"I don't remember," I said, voice rough and brittle. The tremor I heard wasn't weakness. It was a warning, to myself.
Maria's eyes searched mine, desperate, pleading. "Maybe you buried it. Maybe you're afraid to find it again."
I clenched my jaw, tasting the bitterness on my tongue. Afraid? No, I was just done. Done with ghosts, done with memories that didn't belong to me anymore. Done with people pretending we were some kind of... what? Family? Lovers? It all felt like a trap, a lie wrapped in a pretty bow.
"Why drag this up now?" I spat, more harshly than I intended.
She smiled, but it was the kind of smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Because you're here. Because you're not who you think you are. Because... you're running out of time."
Her words landed like stones in my gut. Time. Running out. The kind of phrases teachers used when they thought you'd finally cracked, but I wasn't cracked. Not yet.
I shifted the box on my hip, wanting to escape the claustrophobia of that closet, the way her presence felt like a noose tightening.
"We should get these back," Maria said softly, stepping aside.
Outside, the hallway felt colder, the quiet too loud. I could feel Alya's gaze burning into my back as we returned, sharp and accusing. Chisaki and Yuki masked their tension with forced smiles, but I saw through it. Everyone was waiting. For what, I wasn't sure.
Maria's hands trembled slightly as she sat, but she caught herself before anyone noticed. Everyone was playing a part. I wasn't sure which part I was supposed to play.
Haruto's bright voice cut through the tension. "Thanks, Aiko! You're a lifesaver."
Alya nudged my chair with a forced smile. "You survived. Not so bad, right?"
Her eyes avoided mine, but I caught the flicker of something raw beneath her calm. Something like worry.
I sat, feeling the chair groan beneath me, heavier than it should've been. The room felt like a stage and I was the outsider forced into a scene I'd forgotten the script for.
Yuki laughed, but it was too sharp. Chisaki's sarcasm sliced the air. Maria's silence was louder than their noise.
I wanted to crawl out of my skin, or disappear entirely.
But most of all, I wanted to forget.
...
The room hummed around me, but I felt disconnected ,a spectator shoved onto a stage I never auditioned for. Everyone was talking, laughing, but their voices blurred into a dull roar in my ears. I wanted to disappear, to sink beneath the floor and never be seen again.
Alya's hand rested briefly on my arm, a touch that was supposed to be comforting. Instead, it felt like an electric shock, too close, too much. I wanted to shrug her off, tell her to stop pretending I mattered. But the words stuck behind my teeth, too exhausted even to bite.
Why do they all insist on dragging me back in? I wondered, bitterness sour on my tongue.
Maria watched me with those old, too-knowing eyes. It was like she was waiting for me to break, waiting for the cracks to show. But I wasn't sure if I hated her for it or envied her. She had a certainty I never allowed myself.
"Are you okay?" Alya's voice broke through my thoughts, soft and cautious.
I swallowed hard, eyes darting away from her worried gaze. "I'm fine."
I wasn't fine. Not by a long shot.
The truth was, I was terrified. Terrified of what might come back if I let myself remember. Memories weren't just pictures in my head, they were chains wrapped tight around my ribs, pulling me back into a past I didn't want to claim.
I thought about all the times I'd convinced myself I was better off alone. That people were distractions, weaknesses, liabilities. And yet here they were, Maria, Alya, Chisaki, Yuki threading themselves into the edges of my life, pulling at the loose threads.
Maria caught my gaze again, just for a moment, and something flickered inside me. A quiet ache. A whisper of something warm and dangerous. Love, maybe. Or loss. Or a ghost.
The meeting pressed on, plans laid out with enthusiasm that felt like a foreign language. I offered suggestions, ideas that surprised me with their ease, but inside I was calculating. Measuring how much I could give without breaking.
The more I tried to convince myself I didn't belong, the more I felt the tug of those old ties invisible but undeniable.
When the meeting finally wrapped, and the others filtered out with light chatter, I stayed behind for a moment, staring at the blank whiteboard. The words 'flash mob,' 'art club,' 'calligraphy' scrawled across it, fragments of connection I wasn't sure I wanted.
Maria's voice cut through the silence.
"You don't have to remember everything right away, Aiko," she said gently. "But you don't have to push us away either."
I shook my head, a bitter laugh escaping me. "I don't do 'us.'"
She stepped closer, unafraid. "Maybe you did once. Maybe that's why you're so scared now."
I clenched my fists at my sides. She was right. That scared me more than I wanted to admit.
The misanthrope in me screamed to run. To hide. To bury this under layers of indifference.
But part of me, the part I buried deep, wanted to believe her. Wanted to feel that warmth again. Wanted to remember the family I never thought I'd have.
But how do you go back to something you don't remember? How do you trust ghosts that claim to love you?
I didn't have an answer. Not yet.
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Thanks for reading. You can also give me ideas for the future or pinpoint plot holes that I may have forgotten, if you want.