February 24th — the day before the final exam.
It had been almost two weeks since anyone last saw Ichinose Honami in school. Her absence was no longer just a rumor — it had become an unspoken truth that hovered over every hallway, every classroom, and every conversation.
But on that cold February morning, when she quietly stepped into the campus once again, the whole school seemed to pause.
The whispers started immediately.
"She's back…""Did you hear the new story about her and Miyamoto?""Apparently, she used to beat up bullies to protect people."
At first, no one dared approach her. The bright, ever-smiling girl from Class B now looked fragile — her once radiant presence dimmed, her movements slow. But there was a faint determination in her eyes, as if she'd decided to face everything that had been said about her.
Rumors had become the school's heartbeat. They spread faster than wind, reshaping the way people saw one another.
This time, however, the tone was different.
The new rumor didn't destroy Ichinose's image — it redeemed it.
She wasn't the fallen angel anymore. She was the angel who had once stood up to a devil.
And that devil… was me.
The Classroom Buzz
In Class C, the noise was unbearable.
Students were huddled in small groups, their desks pushed together like islands of gossip.
"I'm telling you, there's no way Ichinose is a bad person!" Ike slammed his palm against the desk, his voice echoing across the room. "That girl's too nice — she's like a saint!"
"Yeah, yeah," Yamauchi said smugly, leaning back in his chair. "I knew that all along. Back during the forest test, I could already tell Miyamoto was the kind of guy who'd pull crap like that. Totally believable."
Sudou rolled his eyes. "Don't act smart now, man. Weren't you the one saying yesterday you 'misjudged her'?"
"Eh? You must've heard wrong!" Yamauchi waved his hands nervously. "I said she couldn't be that kind of person. Totally!"
Kushida, sitting nearby, gave a small laugh — but her eyes didn't share her smile. "You guys change opinions faster than the wind."
As the class continued chattering, Horikita glanced sideways at Ayanokōji, who was silently flipping through his notes.
"What do you think about this, Ayanokōji?" she asked, her tone calm but probing.
He looked up slowly, meeting her gaze with that same unreadable expression. "No idea," he said simply. Then, after a pause, he added, "But in this case… it seems the matter's been solved."
Horikita frowned slightly. "Solved? You mean because the narrative changed?"
Ayanokōji nodded. "Exactly. The new rumor rewrote the old one. Now even if Sakayanagi tries something else, it'll only backfire. The school's collective sympathy is already on Ichinose's side."
He closed his notebook. "It's an unexpected solution. But it works."
Horikita studied him for a moment longer. "You sound like you know who did it."
"Maybe," he replied, standing up as the lunch bell rang. "But whether I know or not doesn't matter. The one who'll pay for it already knows the cost."
By afternoon, the entire first-year division was buzzing with the same story.
Class B students were fiercely defending their leader.Class C was split between admiration and confusion.Even Class D, usually indifferent to such matters, had picked up the thread.
"So Ichinose beat that guy up in middle school?""Serves him right if he was really trying to hurt someone.""She's strong and kind. Typical Ichinose."
Sakayanagi's delicate little web of rumors had been torn apart by a stronger one — one born not of malice, but of sacrifice.
And she noticed.
From the balcony of Class A, Sakayanagi stood beside Hashimoto and Kamuro, watching the students below.
"My, my…" she said with a gentle laugh. "It seems the ghost has found his voice."
Hashimoto folded his arms. "You mean Miyamoto? You think he started that new rumor?"
Sakayanagi tilted her head, her silver hair catching the sunlight. "It's only a theory. But I can't imagine anyone else who would throw himself under the bus to protect Ichinose Honami."
Kamuro frowned. "So what now? Do we counter it?"
Sakayanagi smiled. "No. Let it play out. Even angels need their devils. And ghosts… always fade eventually."
That night, I wandered the campus grounds long after curfew.
The wind was cold, scraping against my skin like fine sand. The lamplight flickered across the empty paths, stretching my shadow into something thin and formless.
It felt fitting.
Ever since the rumors turned against me, the stares followed wherever I went. People whispered as I passed, some sneering, others pitying. My name had become synonymous with everything ugly — a villain written into someone else's redemption arc.
But that was fine.
This was what I wanted.
As I crossed near the garden behind the dorms, a soft voice called out.
"Miyamoto-kun."
I stopped.
Ichinose stood there under the pale light, wearing her school coat, her eyes still swollen from tears.
"Why did you do this?" she asked quietly.
I looked at her, pretending not to understand. "Do what?"
"Don't act like you don't know!" Her voice trembled. "Everyone's saying you're the one who started those rumors about me… about our past. But it's not true, right? You didn't have to—"
"I didn't have to what?" I interrupted, my voice low, almost monotone. "Didn't have to ruin myself for you?"
She froze.
I took a slow step closer, my eyes cold, detached. "You were falling, Ichinose. And I was already on the ground. So I gave you something to stand on."
"But why—"
"In this way," I said, cutting her off, "the matter will be solved. There'll be no more rumors about you. Even if Sakayanagi tries something again, all the students will stand by your side. You'll be fine now."
She shook her head desperately. "You didn't have to do this! You'll— you'll be treated like a criminal!"
"I already was," I said simply. "This changes nothing."
For a moment, silence filled the space between us — the kind that feels like it could shatter if anyone breathed too loudly.
Her voice softened, breaking. "You called me an angel once… remember? You said you were a ghost who couldn't see the light."
I smiled faintly, stepping backward into the shadow of the lamplight. "Yeah. And ghosts don't belong with angels."
"Miyamoto—"
Before she could reach me, I turned and walked away, my footsteps slow but steady.
Her voice chased me through the night. "Wait! Don't go! Please—"
But I didn't stop.
I looked back only once — just long enough to see her standing there, trembling, tears falling under the lamplight.
"Go back," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "Go back to where angels belong. Darkness isn't your place."
And then I disappeared into the night, my shadow swallowed by the wind.
Ichinose stood there long after I was gone.
The campus was silent again, except for the faint hum of the lights above her.
She pressed her hands against her chest, trying to calm her heartbeat. The words I'd left behind echoed again and again in her mind.
Go back to where angels belong.
Darkness isn't your place.
Her tears fell silently, staining the ground where I'd stood.
"Idiot…" she whispered. "You're such an idiot."
But even through her sorrow, a small, trembling smile formed on her lips.
Because for the first time in weeks, the air around her felt light again — as if someone had quietly taken her pain and carried it away.
And somewhere deep down, she knew that the ghost who had vanished into the dark had done so not out of guilt, but out of love.
By morning, the rumors about me had solidified.
"Miyamoto's a scumbag."
"Miyamoto tried to hurt someone in middle school."
"Miyamoto's a failure."
It didn't matter.
Ichinose had returned to class. She smiled again, bright as sunlight after a storm. The others cheered her on, defended her, and for the first time in weeks, laughter filled the halls.
I watched from afar — from the corner of the hallway, unseen, unheard.
Maybe that was all I'd ever been meant to do: to fade quietly after ensuring the angel could fly again.
And as the final exam approached, I closed my eyes and whispered,
"If she ever remembers me, I hope it's as a part of her life she doesn't regret."
The ghost had done his part.
The angel had returned to the sky.
When classes ended, I returned to my room. The same room that had always been too quiet, too small, and somehow still too empty.
I tossed my bag on the chair and was about to lie down when the doorbell rang.
The sound was sharp, unexpected. Nobody ever visited me.
For a brief second, I thought it might be one of my so-called "gang" members — maybe Hasebe or Miyake with another update about the rumors. But when I walked to the door and peered through the peephole, my chest froze.
Ichinose Honami stood outside.
Her hands were clasped together, her posture tense. Her face — that gentle, perfect face that usually smiled like spring sunlight — now looked clouded, her lips pressed tightly together, her eyes faintly red as if she'd been crying again.
For a moment, I didn't move.
Then, sighing, I unlocked the door and opened it halfway.
"How did you know my room number?" I asked, my voice casual — too casual.
"I asked someone from the management," she said softly. "Can I… go in and talk?"
I scratched the back of my neck, trying to find an excuse. "It's kind of inconvenient inside. If it's long, can we maybe talk tomorrow? Or outside?"
"Is there anyone else in there?" she asked suddenly, her tone unusually firm.
"No," I replied after a pause.
"Then let's go inside," she said.
I blinked. "…Oh."
There was no way to refuse her. She stepped in as I awkwardly moved aside, her faint perfume lingering as she passed me.
I grabbed a pack of paper cups from the shelf, filled one with water, and handed it to her. "Here."
She accepted it but didn't drink. Her eyes stayed fixed on me.
"So, what's the matter?" I asked, forcing a smile.
Her lips trembled. "Why did you do this?"
That question again.
I looked away, pretending to be annoyed. "Didn't I already answer that last time? Everything's fine now. The problems are solved. So what are you dissatisfied with?"
Her eyes turned red again, her voice rising slightly, trembling with frustration.
"Don't say it like that!" she snapped, her tone breaking through the quiet air of my room. "Do you really think I can just be satisfied with this?! Everyone's calling you a monster now! You can't even walk down the hall without being stared at!"
I shrugged. "I'm used to that. People always need someone to hate."
"That's not the point!" she shouted, taking a step forward. "You destroyed your own reputation just to protect me! Why? Why go that far?"
I didn't answer right away. I could feel the anger, the confusion, the guilt swirling in her voice like a storm, but all I could do was stand there quietly, hands in my pockets.
"Because it was the simplest way," I finally said. "As long as everyone believed the rumor, Sakayanagi's plan would collapse. You'd be untouchable."
"That's not an answer," she whispered, biting her lip. "You're lying."
I met her eyes. "I'm not."
"Yes, you are." She clutched the cup tightly, her knuckles turning white. "You always hide behind logic and excuses. You pretend like everything's just a calculation. But I know there's more to it. You… you wouldn't destroy yourself for someone unless you cared about them."
Her voice broke on that last sentence.
For a long moment, the room was silent except for the hum of the air conditioner.
I wanted to deny it — to say something cold and distant like Ayanokōji would. But my mouth stayed shut.
She took a shaky breath. "When I first met you, I thought you were strange. You were always there, but somehow no one noticed you. Like you were invisible. But whenever you did speak, your words stuck in my heart."
She looked down, her hair covering her face. "You said that even a fallen angel can still be beautiful. That imperfection is another kind of perfection. Do you even realize what that meant to me?"
Her words were trembling, fragile but full of emotion.
I turned my face away. "It was just something I said after drinking too much."
"That's not true!" she shouted again. "You meant it. You always mean what you say, even if you pretend you don't."
I didn't respond.
Ichinose stepped closer, close enough for me to see the faint shimmer of tears in her eyes.
"Why are you doing this to yourself?" she whispered. "Why do you think you don't deserve to stand in the light?"
I smiled faintly, but there was no warmth in it. "Because I'm not like you, Ichinose. You're the kind of person who can make people believe in goodness. I'm just… the shadow that moves when no one's watching."
"You're wrong."
She said it immediately — firm, absolute.
"You're wrong," she repeated, stepping even closer. "If you were just a shadow, you wouldn't have done any of this. You wouldn't have cared what happened to me. You wouldn't have stayed up at night thinking about how to stop Sakayanagi. You wouldn't have given up everything for someone else."
Her hands trembled as she reached up and grabbed the sleeve of my shirt.
"You're not a ghost, Miyamoto-kun," she said, voice breaking. "You're the one who saved me. And I'm not letting you fade away because of it."
I froze.
For a moment, my body wanted to believe her. My heart wanted to accept those words — to think that maybe someone really saw me.
But then, the old voice in my head whispered: Ghosts don't get saved. They disappear.
I gently took her hands off my sleeve. "You should stop saying that. It'll only hurt more later."
"I don't care!"
Her words came out as a sob. "Even if you disappear tomorrow, I'll still say it! I'll still remember you!"
The paper cup she'd been holding slipped from her fingers and hit the floor, rolling away.
I sighed quietly, kneeling to pick it up. "You're really stubborn, you know that?"
She smiled faintly through her tears. "You told me once that even angels can fall. So maybe I'll fall a little for you."
I stopped moving.
For the first time, I couldn't find any words to respond with.
The silence stretched between us, fragile and heavy.
Then Ichinose suddenly crouched down too, meeting my gaze from just a few inches away. Her eyes were wet, but there was a quiet warmth in them.
"I'm not asking you to like yourself right now," she said softly. "Just… don't throw yourself away. Not for me."
Her tone was so gentle it hurt.
I forced out a laugh, though my voice cracked slightly. "You really don't make things easy for people, do you?"
She smiled weakly. "Someone once told me being too perfect makes people uncomfortable. So I'm trying to be a little more selfish."
"Guess I succeeded at that, huh?" I muttered.
She shook her head. "No. You're not selfish enough."
Before I could react, she leaned forward — just enough that her forehead touched mine.
It wasn't romantic. It wasn't even deliberate. It was something small, wordless — a gesture of thanks, of sadness, of forgiveness.
"I don't hate you," she whispered. "No matter what anyone says, I won't ever hate you."
When she finally stood up, she looked lighter — like some invisible weight had been lifted.
"I should go," she said quietly. "Tomorrow's the exam."
"Yeah," I replied. "You'll do fine."
At the door, she turned one last time. "Miyamoto-kun… even if you call yourself a ghost, I'll still see you."
Then she left.
When the door clicked shut, I stood there for a long time, staring at the empty space where she'd been.
Her words replayed over and over in my head.
You're not a ghost.You saved me.
I picked up the fallen paper cup from the floor and placed it on the table. It was still faintly warm from her hands.
I exhaled slowly, then laughed under my breath. "Idiot," I murmured to myself. "You're supposed to forget me, not chase me down."