I, Arisa Fujiwara, have always been the model student—the perfect class representative, the smiling face everyone looks up to, the one who handles disputes with grace and maturity.
It was the expectation laid upon me since I was old enough to understand the weight of my family name.
The Fujiwaras are nothing short of influential.
My father, a prominent figure in politics, and my mother, a respected diplomat, made it clear that my behavior would reflect upon the family's image.
Perfection was not just expected—it was demanded.
Conversations were rehearsed, manners were impeccable, and I learned to smile even when I wanted to scream.
A well-crafted mask, meticulously perfected over the years.
To the outside world, I am unblemished; to myself, I am shackled.
It's exhausting.
Mundane greetings, shallow conversations, and trivial disputes bore me to no end.
People around me are predictable, almost scripted in their actions.
They are driven by instinct and habit, easily swayed by the slightest rumor or implication.
To navigate through that ocean of mediocrity, I merely needed to perform, to smile at the right moments, to agree when expected, and to lead when necessary.
Life had become so boring that I was thinking of running to a far away place, where no would ever have the hopes of finding me.
Then comes the transfer student, with a very interesting past and investigation-worthy present.
After hearing everything from Okabe-sensei, I decided that it's way more interesting to investigate his case, than preparing for these boring exams.
"How about we go to a nearby cafe, and discuss everything there?", I suggested to Kasuragi-kun in a casual manner.
But he seemed to be in deep thought after hearing my suggestion.
"What's wrong? Do you have any other plans now?", I asked out of consideration, cause it would have been rude to keep him occupied for my own selfishness.
"No, it's just.....Don't you think that going to a cafe would be a bad idea?", he said with a slight hesitation in his voice.
".....Why though?", I tilted my head in confusion.
"Oh, I meant, how would someone from our school react to a boy and a girl going to a cafe after school, that to the girl being a popular one like yourself.....You understand the rest, don't you?"
. . . . .
I scoffed, crossing my arms.
"I didn't peg you as someone who cared about baseless gossip, Kasuragi-kun."
He raised an eyebrow, his gaze sharpening. "It's not about me. It's about the way people twist things. They see what they want to see."
"So? Let them," I shot back. "Are you that afraid of what people think?"
His expression darkened. "It's not fear. It's practicality. Why give them fuel? Why let them control the narrative?"
I stepped closer, my eyes locked onto his. "Because sometimes, you have to step into the fire to burn the weeds."
He stared back, unyielding. "And sometimes, you end up getting burned."
A silence hung between us, thick with unspoken tension, before I finally smirked. "Fine. If you're that worried, I'll just say I'm helping you prepare for exams."
He studied me for a moment, then shrugged. "I guess that works."
We began walking, the conversation now tinged with a sharper edge. "You know," I started, "people love to judge. It's easier for them to categorize someone as a villain than to understand their story."
"Understanding requires effort. Judgment is free," he replied, his gaze fixed forward. "It's always been like that. Truth is boring; fiction is entertaining."
"And yet, most people are satisfied with the surface," I shot back. "They don't want to know more."
"Because digging deeper is dangerous," he responded, his eyes sharp. "It exposes things people aren't ready to confront."
"Or don't want to confront," I added, crossing my arms. "Sometimes it's more comfortable to live in ignorance."
He gave me a side glance. "I didn't expect you to say that."
"People aren't always what they seem, Kasuragi-kun," I replied with a grin, leading the way into the cafe.
***
One thing I am sure of right now is that, this Fujiwara girl has a really twisted personality.
It would be better for me to be careful with her.
As we reached at the cafe and took two of the corner seats, I started looking around.
It wasn't the first time I have been to a cafe, but maybe the first time I have been to a cafe with a girl.
So, I was feeling a bit restless with all the stares I was receiving.
"Should we order something first?", Fujiwara suggested.
I nodded, glancing at the menu lying on the table.
"Yeah, probably a good idea," I replied, trying to shake off the feeling of being scrutinized.
I picked up the menu and scanned it quickly. "I'll just get a black coffee," I said, putting it back down.
Fujiwara raised an eyebrow. "Straight to the point, huh? No sugar, no milk?"
"I like it simple," I shrugged.
She smiled, but there was a hint of amusement behind her eyes.
"I'll take a caramel latte, then." She waved over the waitress, placing our orders with the kind of polished ease that comes from years of social etiquette training.
I guess she is from a reputed family too.
By the way, from her phrasing of words, she is indicating that she still believes that all of these rumors are baseless.
However, I am pretty sure that she knows about it, most probably from that homeroom teacher.
Although, I am skeptical of how much information was given to the school about that incident, it's actually better for me.
Now, onto the main topic of who is the instigator of all these rumors.
Well, they aren't rumors to be exact.
First of all, 'they' said that information about that murder wouldn't be made public and would only be revealed to the subjects involved and the school I would be attending.
I doubt that anyone from the school's administration would spread things like this.
So, it's most probably one of the subjects or suspects involved in that incident.
Another reason is, this news did spread like wildfire, and the whole grade knew about it, just within 2 days.
That's only if someone is deliberately doing this.
Their purpose?
Most probably, because they hate me.
So, if they are one of the subjects of that incident and holding a grudge against me, then it would all make sense.
As I was thinking of the possible suspects, with Fujiwara merrily looking at the menu and waiting for the order, someone called us from behind.
"Yo."
Before joining this school, I had memorized all of the names and faces of the first year students.
A tall boy with messy brown hair and a sharp gaze stood behind us, hands casually stuffed in his pockets.
His eyes flickered with a hint of amusement as he looked between Fujiwara and me.
"Ah, Takashima-kun, what are you doing here?", Fujiwara asked, visibly flustered.
****************