The dormitory hallways were eerily silent that night. The clock above the reception desk ticked softly — 10:05 p.m. — echoing through the empty space.
I stood there holding a plastic bag filled with ten cans of beer, the faint metallic clinking filling the air every time I shifted my grip.
Kamuro had helped me get these earlier, though she didn't look pleased doing it. "You're seriously going to drink all that?" she had asked. I'd laughed and told her I'd share.
Now, standing before Ichinose Honami's door, I wasn't so sure if that was a good idea.
The light from her room peeked through the narrow gap beneath the door. She hadn't turned it off yet. That was good enough for me.
I took a deep breath and knocked softly.
"Knock, knock. Is the fallen angel at home?" I said half-jokingly, my voice echoing in the hallway. "It's me — your defective friend, Miyamoto, coming to visit."
For a moment, there was no answer. I thought she might ignore me, like most people usually did. But after a few seconds, I heard the soft shuffle of footsteps from the other side.
The lock clicked.
And there she was — Ichinose Honami, wrapped in a light sweater, her hair slightly messy, eyes tired but still somehow radiant even under the dim light.
She looked surprised to see me, but didn't speak.
I lifted the bag. "I brought beer."
A pause. Then a sigh. "You're not supposed to drink in the dorms, Miyamoto-kun…"
"Yeah, I know," I said, smiling faintly. "But rules bend when angels are falling, right?"
For some reason, that made her expression soften — not exactly a smile, but not rejection either.
She stepped aside and let me in.
Her room was spotless as always, though the faint traces of fatigue showed — a few tissues on the table, an untouched cup of tea, and unopened boxes of Valentine's chocolates piled in one corner.
I set the beers down on the low table, pulled one open with a psst, and offered it to her.
"Want one?"
She hesitated. "I don't really drink…"
"That's fine. You don't have to." I cracked another can for myself, gulping down the bitter fizz. "But sometimes, you gotta loosen the halo a little, y'know?"
For a few seconds, she said nothing. Then, without a word, she took the can and raised it to her lips.
The sight made me laugh softly. "Didn't expect that."
She didn't reply — just took another small sip, staring out the window.
So I kept talking. I always talked when silence felt too heavy.
"You know, lately I feel like I'm fading," I said, staring into my beer. "Like… I could disappear tomorrow, and no one would notice."
Her gaze flickered toward me, but she didn't interrupt.
"I mean, it's not new. I've always been that kind of guy. You ever feel like you only exist when you talk to someone? Like, once the conversation ends, poof — you're gone?"
She looked down. "…Sometimes."
"Yeah." I chuckled. "Even Ibuki ignores me these days. Though, to be fair, she's always like that. I guess I can't blame her. Some people just don't see ghosts."
Another gulp. Another bitter laugh.
"I don't really hate it though," I said quietly. "It's normal. You can't be in the spotlight all the time. Someone else always steps up when you step down. That's how life works, right?"
Ichinose was listening closely now, her fingers gently holding the cold can between them. The faint hum of the refrigerator was the only other sound in the room.
Five cans in, the world started to spin a little.
I let out a small groan and leaned back against the sofa. "Man… this stuff hits fast."
Ichinose reached over to take the empty cans. "You shouldn't drink that much, Miyamoto-kun."
"Maybe," I mumbled. "But it helps me talk. Otherwise, I just… vanish."
She didn't know what to say to that. Her silence wasn't cold — it was heavy, like she was afraid words might break something fragile.
"You're… kind of the opposite of me," I said suddenly, half-drunk, half-honest. "You're like an angel. People love you, follow you, believe in you. Even now, when the whole school's whispering behind your back, you still shine."
Ichinose shook her head. "No… I don't. Not anymore."
"Don't say that," I murmured, my voice softening. "You're still glowing, even when you're falling. Me? I'm just the ghost hiding in the dark. The kind no one sees, even if I scream."
She looked at me for a long moment. "You're not a ghost, Miyamoto-kun."
"Maybe not to you," I said with a faint smile. "But that's 'cause angels see things no one else does."
I rubbed my forehead, feeling dizzy. "Ugh… can I lay down for a bit? I think the floor's spinning."
"Sure," she said softly. "You can rest here."
Without thinking, I leaned sideways, resting my head gently on her lap.
Her body tensed in surprise, but she didn't move away.
"Sorry," I muttered, eyes half-closed. "I just… feel dizzy. I'll move in a sec…"
"It's alright," she whispered.
The room grew quiet again.
Outside, faint moonlight spilled through the window blinds, painting silver lines across the carpet. The air smelled faintly of tea and beer.
"I'm just… ordinary," I murmured, voice slurring slightly. "Ordinary parents, ordinary face, ordinary everything. I guess that's why I sometimes get jealous."
"Of who?" she asked quietly.
"People like you," I said. "People who… matter."
Ichinose's hands rested on her knees, trembling slightly.
"You shouldn't think that way."
"Can't help it," I whispered. "It's not that I hate being ordinary. I just… wish I could leave some kind of mark. Even a scratch on the world, y'know?"
No reply.
My voice grew softer, almost fading into sleep. "I know what's not mine will never be mine. You're… too bright, Ichinose. Like an angel. And me? I'm just a ghost wandering in the dark… can't even see the light anymore."
I felt my consciousness slipping, but before I completely drifted off, I mumbled one last thing.
"…Remember when I said… if you become a fallen angel…"
The rest trailed into incoherent murmurs.
And then — silence.
Ichinose sat still, the warmth of his head resting gently on her lap.
His breathing steadied.
Outside, the faint hum of wind brushed against the windowpane.
For a long time, she just stared at his sleeping face. The usual grin he wore — mischievous, teasing, carefree — was gone. In its place was a quiet vulnerability she hadn't noticed before.
She reached out, brushing a few strands of hair from his forehead, her fingers trembling slightly.
"Miyamoto-kun…" she whispered.
Every word he'd said lingered in her mind — ghosts, vanishing, fading away.
She thought about how he always joked, always smiled, always acted like the fool no one took seriously. But behind those smiles… was the same loneliness she'd been feeling.
For the first time, Ichinose realized how similar they really were — both hiding pain behind masks.
The difference was, he had no one to see him.
Her chest ached.
She ran her fingers gently through his hair, whispering quietly to herself, "You're wrong, you know. You do exist. You're not invisible…"
Her vision blurred. Tears welled up and rolled silently down her cheeks, falling onto the fabric of his sleeve.
"…and you're not a ghost."
The clock ticked quietly. Midnight came and went.
Ichinose didn't move him, didn't wake him. She just sat there, gazing down at him — a quiet, lonely boy who'd wandered into her world like a drifting spirit.
And as the moonlight dimmed behind passing clouds, she whispered once more, almost like a prayer:
"If I ever fall, maybe it's okay… if it's into the arms of someone who still believes I can shine."
When I woke up, sunlight was already spilling softly through the curtains, painting thin lines of gold across Ichinose's tidy room.
My head throbbed from the beer. My body felt heavy, my mouth dry like sandpaper.
As I blinked the blur away, I realized I wasn't in my room — I was on Ichinose's couch. A blanket had been gently placed over me, and the faint smell of tea lingered in the air.
Ichinose sat quietly by the window, her school uniform already on, brushing her long hair with steady movements. Her eyes, however, looked distant — like she hadn't slept much.
"Morning," I said hoarsely.
She turned to me, smiling faintly. "Morning, Miyamoto-kun. You were out cold."
"Yeah… sorry about that." I rubbed my temple. "Guess I drank too much."
"It's fine. You seemed… lonely."
Her words hit harder than the hangover. I chuckled weakly. "Don't mind what I said last night, okay? I talk too much when I'm drunk."
Ichinose stood and walked over to pour a cup of water for me. "I don't think it was just the alcohol."
I took the cup and looked at her, her soft eyes reflecting a mix of empathy and sorrow. I didn't know what to say, so I smiled the only way I knew how — clumsy and half-hearted.
"Well, even ghosts need to sober up sometimes." I stood up, stretching my stiff shoulders. "Anyway, I should get going before homeroom starts. You should rest more, Ichinose. Don't push yourself."
As I reached the door, she spoke quietly, almost like a whisper."Miyamoto-kun… thank you. For last night."
I raised a hand lazily without turning around. "Don't thank me. I just came to drink with a fallen angel, that's all."
And then I left.
The next day, chaos had already taken over the school.
Before classes even began, the hallway buzzed like a beehive. People whispered behind hands, eyes darting, phones flickering under desks.
Rumors — fresh ones.
Suzune Horikita called Ayanokōji over, showing him a string of posts from the barely-used school forum app.
Ayanokōji Kiyotaka has a crush on Karuizawa KeiRyōtarō Hondō is into obese girlsSatsuki Shinohara was a prostitute in middle schoolMaya Satō hates Kayano Onodera
Each line was like poison written in pixels.
"Who even uses that app?" someone muttered.
"It's for checking private points, not gossip…" another replied.
But the damage was done — curiosity spreads faster than truth.
Yamauchi, ever the idiot, decided to "confirm" the Shinohara rumor directly. She shouted at him, Ike joined in, and soon a shouting match broke out that nearly drew a teacher's attention.
Meanwhile, Ayanokōji, Shinohara, and Hondō all firmly denied their respective rumors.
Maezono leaned toward her seatmate, whispering under her breath, "Well… Satō does act weird around Onodera."
Satō heard that, snapping back defensively. The tension was thick enough to slice.
Suzune frowned, her phone buzzing. A message from Kanzaki:
"Ichinose was absent again today. Four rumors are circulating about Class B too."
Suzune immediately pulled up the app and scrolled through the other classes' threads. Sure enough — everyone except Class A was targeted.
Her mind clicked like gears. There was a pattern. Someone orchestrated this.
And that "someone" was already in their sights.
Of Exams and Shadows
The provisional exam was announced to be the next day.
Chabashira explained it as a "trial test" — a way to gauge progress without it affecting final grades. But the questions mirrored the upcoming finals. It was hard enough to crush the barely passing students, yet manageable for those who'd studied.
Ayanokōji took his seat, unbothered, though his mind was elsewhere.
He knew Hashimoto was trailing him again — the faint reflection on window glass gave it away.
After the test, Kanzaki arranged to meet with Suzune and Ayanokōji. They met near the courtyard, but before long, Arisu Sakayanagi arrived, walking like a queen flanked by her guards: Hashimoto, Kamuro, and the quiet powerhouse Kitou.
Her expression was sweet as ever, her cane tapping softly on the ground.
"Good afternoon, everyone. Such gloomy faces — surely it isn't because of little rumors, is it?"
Kanzaki glared. "Enough games, Sakayanagi. You're behind all this, aren't you?"
She tilted her head with feigned innocence. "Me? I've merely been studying for exams. Though, perhaps your classmates should learn to handle gossip better."
Her laughter was light — too light. A perfect mask.
Even as Kanzaki pressed further, she never dropped her smile. And behind her, Hashimoto's grin said everything — you'll never prove it.
Ayanokōji remained silent the entire time, his eyes scanning every detail: Arisu's composure, Hashimoto's micro-expressions, Kamuro's avoidance. He wasn't here to argue; he was here to observe.
The Phone Call
Later that evening, Kei called Ayanokōji in a hushed voice.
"Hey… did you see what they're saying about you? About us?"
"I did." His tone was calm.
"So… what do we do?"
"Nothing."
"What?!"
"They'll actually help us," he explained. "If people think there's something between us, it makes any meetings we have less suspicious. It's a convenient cover."
"Convenient?! You—ugh, you're impossible."
"I know," he said simply, and hung up.
Kei stared at her phone in disbelief. "He's so cold sometimes…"
Three days after the provisional exams, tensions finally boiled over.
In a quiet corner of the courtyard, members from multiple classes gathered:
From Class A: Hashimoto and Kitou.
From Class C: Ayanokōji's small group — Hasebe, Sakura, and Miyake.
From Class D: Ishizaki, Albert, Ibuki, and Hiyori.
The air crackled like static.
Ibuki stood front and center, her glare locked on Hashimoto. "So you're the one spreading all this crap, huh?"
Hashimoto smiled lazily. "Rumors? Oh, come on. We're just talking about what everyone's already thinking."
"Cut the act," Ishizaki barked, stepping forward.
Within seconds, the confrontation escalated. Harsh words flew. Then — movement. Ishizaki lunged.
Hashimoto sidestepped smoothly, kicking out low. The attack was blocked by Miyake, who intervened just in time.
"You shouldn't get involved, Class C boy," Hashimoto said with a smirk. "Nagumo doesn't punish small fights anymore."
"So what?" Miyake replied. "You think we'll just let you bully people?"
Kitou moved next, his stance sharp — precise, trained.
Before anyone could stop them, a two-on-two erupted: Ibuki and Ishizaki versus Hashimoto and Kitou.
Kicks clashed, fists flew, the sound of shoes scraping against the ground echoing.
Ibuki moved fast, launching a clean kick at Hashimoto's side. But her phone and student ID slipped from her pocket, clattering across the floor.
Miyake rushed forward to stop the fight, snatching her phone. Ayanokōji moved subtly, picking up the dropped student ID. Something about it caught his eye — a faint scratch, an odd pattern on the chip.
Strange, he thought. Two IDs in one month with identical marks…
Before he could ponder further, Albert stepped in, tackling Miyake to the ground to separate everyone.
Hashimoto laughed, brushing dust from his jacket. "Man, Class D sure is lively. Maybe you guys should focus on your grades instead of brawling."
Ayanokōji only watched, analyzing each piece of information like chess moves. The fight wasn't about rumors — it was about testing reactions, observing alignments.
And he had seen enough.
Hiyori finally stepped forward, her calm voice slicing through the tension. "Enough. This is meaningless."
Her words carried unexpected authority. One by one, everyone backed down.
But the damage had already been done — and new suspicions planted.
That night, Ayanokōji sat alone in his room, scrolling through the forum.
He dialed a familiar number.
"Horikita Manabu speaking," came the composed voice from the other end.
"It's Ayanokōji. I found something strange in two student IDs. The chip pattern doesn't match the usual issue."
Manabu hummed thoughtfully. "Interesting. That's a first. I'll have it checked."
They talked a bit more — about the exams, about Nagumo's current stance, about how Kushida might still have ties to the spreading of rumors.
When the call ended, Ayanokōji leaned back in his chair. "Things are moving faster than expected…" he muttered.
Meanwhile, in my dorm room, I called my group together — the Miyamoto Gang, as they jokingly called it.
Teruhiko Yukimura.Haruka Hasebe.Akito Miyake.Mei-Yu Wang.Kyosuke Okitani.Wataru Ijuin.Airi Sakura.An Maezono.
All of them gathered, sitting awkwardly around my small table filled with snack wrappers and half-finished notebooks.
I looked at each of them seriously — maybe for the first time.
"Alright, everyone," I said, exhaling. "This is our last meeting."
"Last?" Haruka frowned. "What do you mean?"
"I'm disbanding the group."
Shock rippled around the room.
"Boss, did something happen?" Ijuin asked.
"Yeah," I said simply. "Something big. But before that, I've got one final mission for you all."
They leaned in.
"I want you to spread a rumor."
Yukimura crossed his arms. "A rumor? About who?"
"About Ichinose Honami."
The air froze.
Even Airi looked uneasy. "You mean… that Ichinose?"
"Yeah," I said. "The angel of Class B. But listen carefully — it's not a hit job. It's a setup."
I explained it calmly:
"Spread the story that Ichinose and I went to the same middle school. That back then, I used to bully people, and once, I even tried to coerce a girl. But Ichinose caught me, stood up for her, and beat me. Make it sound dramatic — that she's got a violent side, but it came from protecting others."
They all stared at me in disbelief.
"Why… why would you want that out there?" Haruka asked softly.
"Because," I said, leaning back, "if the world's gonna call her a criminal anyway, then let's give them a story that still makes her human. Let them believe she's imperfect — but for the right reasons."
Silence.
Then, slowly, Mei-Yu nodded. "You're crazy, you know that?"
I grinned. "Always have been."
I stood up and looked around the room. "After you finish spreading it, you're free. No more orders, no more group. Find your own people, follow whoever you think is worth your trust. That's my last request as your boss."
Miyake sighed, standing as well. "You're a strange guy, Miyamoto. But fine. If this is your last mission, I'll help."
"Same here," Haruka said, smiling faintly. "Guess the ghost finally wants to make some noise."
I chuckled. "Yeah. Maybe just once."
That night, as everyone left my room, I sat by the window, staring out at the distant school lights.
The world was still buzzing with rumors, still cruel, still restless.
But somewhere out there, maybe Ichinose would hear a new story — one where even her supposed sins became proof of her kindness.
And for the first time in a long while, I didn't feel invisible.
I cracked open one last beer and whispered to the night:
"A ghost doesn't need the spotlight. Just someone to remember he was here."