📘 2007: A Girl with No Tomorrow

✦ Chapter 7: Winning Hurts Too

> “They beat me when I lost.

They beat me when I won.

So what exactly am I supposed to be?”

— Aki Hoshino

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The newspaper clipping was taped to the school notice board.

“Local High School Girl Wins Regional Piano Championship.”

Below it, her name: Aki Hoshino.

Someone had drawn devil horns on her picture with a red pen.

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She walked into school, silent as usual, her bag on one shoulder, her hair tied neatly.

Her uniform was clean. Her shoes polished. Her bruises — all hidden.

From the archery match. From the piano contest. From home.

Now, it was time for new ones.

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It happened between classes.

She was walking toward the music room alone when she turned a corner and saw them — Yua and two of her friends, leaning against the lockers.

Yua smirked. “Hey, robot.”

Aki stopped. “What now?”

“Didn't you already have enough medals?” Yua hissed. “You had to take this one too?”

“I didn’t take anything,” Aki said, voice flat. “I just played.”

Yua grabbed her collar. “Don’t act innocent.”

Aki didn’t move.

Yua's friend pushed her against the wall. Hard.

“You think you’re better than us? Just 'cause you have some stupid talent?”

Aki stared at them, confused. “You hit me when I lose. You hit me when I win.”

Yua blinked. “What?”

“I don’t get it,” Aki whispered, genuinely puzzled. “What’s the rule?”

That only made them angrier.

Yua raised her hand and slapped Aki across the face.

“You make everyone feel small. You don’t even try. You just win. And act like you don’t care.”

“I don’t,” Aki murmured.

Another push. Her back hit the lockers. A fist struck her side — not too hard, but enough to bruise.

Someone kicked her knee. She fell, but caught herself with one hand.

They laughed. Left her there.

Yua spat as she walked away.

“Go write that in your diary, freak.”

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Aki sat on the cold tile floor.

She touched her cheek. Her ribs. Her knee. Her pulse.

Everything still working.

Her eyes drifted to the fluorescent lights above her. Buzzing. Flickering.

> “So… I lose, they hurt me.

I win, they hurt me.

At home, I breathe wrong — I get slapped.

At school, I breathe at all — I get hated.

What version of me is safe?

Who do I have to become… to not exist?”

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That night, she didn’t write in her notebook.

She just stared at the open page.

Then slowly wrote:

> Date: October 21, 2007

*I used to think death was a punishment.

But now…

It feels more like a vacation I can’t afford to take.*

She didn’t cry. She never did.

She just turned off the light and lay in the dark — wondering if tomorrow was worth showing up for.

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End of Chapter 7

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