"brand"

There was no mastermind behind the incident.

Everyone was simply reading the mood and playing the role they believed was expected of them.

On XXth month of X, his best friend Souta passed away.

A middle school in a rural town. The incident quietly began to sprout in a humid summer classroom.

Sato Souta, 14 years old. Timid, his eyes behind his glasses always looked down.

He was an inconspicuous student, but one day, someone wrote the word "Gross" on his desk.

That was the beginning. No one knew who wrote it.

But everyone saw the writing.

Laughter filled the classroom, and Souta blushed and looked down.

The next day, someone else stuffed trash into his bag.

Everyone laughed, and everyone felt that "this is what is expected of us here."

Souta, too, believed that his role was to accept it with a smile.

If he didn't laugh, it would only get worse.

Miyamoto Yuto was in that classroom too. Fifteen years old, with mediocre grades and only a moderate number of friends.

Yuto didn't dislike Souta. Before this, they were close enough to visit each other's houses.

But the atmosphere swayed him.

If he didn't join in the ridicule of his classmates, he'd be left out.

If he didn't give Souta a cold look, he'd be seen as a traitor.

Yuto compounded his small acts of malice. He doodled in Kenta's textbook and bumped him into shoulders in the hallway.

Deep down, he wanted to quit, but he convinced himself that everyone else was doing it.

Souta gradually grew haggard.

His smile disappeared, and his eyes behind his glasses looked like those of a dead fish.

One morning, he didn't come to school.

In the evening, Souta's body was found by the river.

There was a rope mark around his neck.

Everyone was shocked, and everyone was silent.

The teachers knew about the bullying but turned a blind eye, calling it an "unfortunate accident," while the parents whispered to each other, "That kid was just naturally weak."

No one named the mastermind.

Because everyone there was an accomplice.

Yuto's heart ached.

Souta's death was not what anyone had wished for.

The atmosphere, the considerations, were turning the gears, and no one could stop them.

It killed him.

The day of Souta's funeral

Souta's classmates lined up in their uniforms.

Many children were seen crying, handkerchiefs in hand.

Near the entrance to the venue, a variety show interviewer was waiting, hoping to capture on camera the agonizing cries of the children who had lost their classmates.

"He was such a good kid..."

"How did this happen..."

"He was smiling and happy just the day before..."

"He said he wanted to become a doctor and help people in the future..."

Everyone spoke in front of the camera about their deceased classmate.

The day before Souta died, Yuto had met him.

The two were on the rooftop as dusk approached.

Souta looked very thin and lifeless.

"You look haggard. Are you okay?"

He thought those words were heartless, because Yuto himself had played a part in that.

"Yeah, it's okay. I can't die for you, either."

"For me?"

"Yeah, you understand. If I were to pathetically retire here, you'd be next, and I couldn't lose."

Yuto stared at Souta's profile in silence.

"It's okay, I don't hate you. I was just reading the room, right? I know. I'm the same way. If someone doesn't take on this role, if someone else doesn't take the lead, someone else will..."

Yuto felt frustrated that he couldn't offer to take her place.

"But this bullying probably won't end until I die. I think that's how it ends... Maybe I need to read the room soon..."

Souta's face briefly showed sadness.

"Thank you, Yuto. Even in this state, you were the only one who treated me like a friend... Come on, let's go now. It would be terrible if someone saw us like this."

The next day, Souta passed away.

Souta's mother handed me a letter he had written.

It contained a suicide note.

He didn't mention the people who had bullied him.

He only wrote about his feelings for me, concluding with, "I'm sorry I couldn't protect you."

On the day of the funeral...

Yuto heads to the funeral carrying his grandfather's old hunting rifle.

He feels the heavy, cold iron.

If he is to respect Souta's wishes, what should he do?

Should he mourn his death, or...

None of Souta's classmates attending the funeral are looking at him.

Everyone is just reading the mood and acting out their grief.

A gunshot rang out.

Summer light streamed in through a hole in the gymnasium roof.