[How to Deal with Cyberbullying]
Answer: Call the police.“What good is this stupid internet…”
The phone landed on the soft mattress with a dull thud, bounced once, then fell still.
If it weren’t for the fact that she didn’t want to trouble her father, didn’t want him to know, didn’t want the mess to affect his job or his reputation, she would never have had to waste time searching on Google like an idiot.
Call the police?
What a joke.Nogami threw herself into the down comforter like she’d just thrown her phone, burying her head in her pillow as she racked her brain for a way to kill the rumor.
Even though the slanderous post had vanished not long after school ended, the aftermath showed no signs of calming down. If anything, the rumors were multiplying,
She, Nogami Izumi, was nothing like Harutaki. She wasn’t some invisible nobody for a year. By the time she was about to graduate junior high, her name, her infamy, had already reached the high school halls, passed down by alumni. Everyone knew her.
If the post about Harutaki were filled with one-third mockery, one-third malice, and one-third fangirls drooling over his looks, then hers was a full one hundred percent venom.
That was the price of acting without restraint, of never bothering to look anyone in the eye.
Students from every stratum joined in, those from the upper class who envied her, the ones from the lower who hated her arrogance, everyone found common ground in tearing her down.
And truth be told, Nozomi wasn’t new to this kind of battlefield.
She had, more than once, used the same tactics herself to “break” a few “toys.”
Of course, the difference was that her crusades had always been backed by solid evidence.
Like the middle-aged creep caught taking upskirt photos on the subway, whose phone was found stuffed with illegal videos. She and her two friends had cleaned out his wallet before dumping every file online for the world to see.
Even after he’d begged, saying he had a wife and daughter to care for.Or that upperclassman who’d tried to court her, after she toyed with him and watched him lose his mind, he went bragging on an alt account about sleeping with freshmen virgins. She’d leaked it to the school group chat. He was forced to transfer, and before leaving, got jumped and beaten bloody by some girls’ fathers.
She loved that kind of thing.
The art of letting someone taste despair, luring them into hope only to crush it in the end.The panic, the pleading, the collapse. Each moment blending into a single masterpiece,
like a painting by a deranged genius.But liking it didn’t help her now.
Because now she was the one on the chopping block.
Nozomi was clever, and came from an excellent family, but her way of living couldn’t have been more different from Harutaki’s.
He lived by the belief that the wider your network, the better.
She, on the other hand, only interacted with those she deemed worthy.
Everyone else, tools or toys.And now she was paying the price for that philosophy.
Aside from Sae and Minako, no one would lift a finger for her. In fact, the best she could hope for was that they wouldn’t take the chance to kick her while she was down.
“How pathetic…”
Through the slit of the curtain, the moonlight spilled in. She laughed softly, bitterly.
That guy, Harutaki… he must be loving this.
The sky he saw, so carefree and calm,
Was it the same dull, empty sky she saw now, clouded by frustration and rage?If he really wasn’t the one who started all this…
Could he fix it?Always so composed, so untouchable, even under her threats, he’d never once lost his cool.
And when his face flickered through her mind again, she realized,
She didn’t feel disgust.What she felt was… a strange familiarity.
As if she’d seen him somewhere before.That night, while struggling to think of a countermeasure, she drifted off, and fell into a hollow dream.
…
In the dream, she was a little girl again. Her sharp, upturned eyes weren’t as fierce yet; her round cheeks still had the soft plumpness of childhood, a face that could charm anyone at first glance.
It was spring break, fifth or sixth grade.
Her parents were busy as always, so the family’s nanny had taken her to the park.
There she sat alone on the grass, playing with two small, human-shaped dolls.
Couples strolled along the shaded path nearby. Groups of children laughed and ran down the main road toward the horizon,
But she stayed there, by herself.
By the time the sun dipped low, her dolls, expensive, delicate things, were already tattered, seams bursting and cotton spilling out.
‘What a boring vacation.’
Unlike other kids, she wasn’t looking forward to playtime or new lessons. What she wanted was to return to school, because that was where the real toys were.
They could talk. They could move. They could cry when bullied, laugh for candy.
Compared to those living, breathing toys, any handmade doll felt lifeless.
Just as she tossed the broken dolls into a trash bin and turned to leave,
“Hey! Those dolls are really expensive, you know! What a waste!”
A voice called out behind her.
She turned, and saw only a bright, white haze.
7:00 A.M.
The alarm rang.
…
Unlike Nogami, whose situation grew worse by the day, Harutaki’s life had finally settled down.
Now that her influence had faded, he could return to normal social life, no longer worried that being around him would cause trouble for others.
Three days after carrying out his revenge plan, during PE, Yosuke grabbed a basketball from the club room and called him and Ren over.
The three of them took half a court in the gym.
For boys, nothing built friendship faster than a game.
And since it was Harutaki’s first time joining them, Yosuke and Ren voted for basketball, a simple, easy-to-learn sport compared to soccer.
Though rather than playing around, it would be more accurate to call it the kind of gathering and banter unique to boys.