Content note: Schoolgirl TG horror. Suicide. Gore. Transphobia. Read with care.

Click here to listen to the audiobook version.

 

 

 

You are a first-year student at Inori Academy, or 愛紀学院.

Your name is not [YOUR NAME] anymore. You gave that up when you were enrolled.

That's because Inori Academy is one of the most exclusive private schools in the country. It's an all-girls' school, and the selection is by invitation only. No one knows what the requirements are.

Everyone knows one thing, though. Anyone can get an invitation, whether they're boy, girl, or enby; native or foreigner. But if you accept the invitation, you become a Japanese girl, in order to blend in.

Your student notebook is a high-tech smartphone, which has a screen covering its whole front surface and can run any app ever made. Everyone at school has one. It comes with a smart pen for writing.

Your student ID reads 愛沢 神子, or Aizawa Kamiko, following the custom of putting the surname first. To the girls around you, you are Aizawa-san, or Aizawa-chan if they want to sound friendlier and more familiar. It is possible that they will only call you by your given name if you become very good friends.

You do not have any friends here.

You don't know anyone at this school.

This is your very first day.

死なないで下さい、愛沢ちゃん。

---

It's spring when you arrive at the academy for the first time. The cherry trees are in full bloom, and brilliant pink petals drift past on a gentle breeze as you enter the gate.

The grounds beyond are a lush, neatly landscaped bright green, with hidden archways and gardens and paths, that you catch glimpses of to the sides of the old brick building. The place looks extravagant. Feminine. Dangerous.

Where did that thought come from, you wonder?

You shake your head to clear it, adjust the strap on your school bag, and focus your gaze on the building ahead as you enter.

Cherry petals are clinging to your clothes, and stuck to the soles of your shoes. You brush off your skirt, then take off your shoes and hold your student notebook up to your tiny locker. A light next to it turns green, and you open it and put your footwear inside, before sliding your feet into indoor slippers.

They're surprisingly comfortable. But looking down past your average chest, at your skirt and your slim, stockinged legs, makes you feel uneasy all of a sudden. Dizzy. Light-headed. Terrified.

You close your eyes and take a deep breath, then count to three.

You are a Japanese high school girl.

You are going to do your best.

There are no mirrors on the way to room 1-B. You feel a sense of relief.

---

You will spend the whole school day in room 1-B. The teachers will rotate in and out, instead of everyone having to split up. That's because for all that it's an exclusive academy, this is still a Japanese high school.

On the bulletin board outside your classroom, everyone's test scores for the last exams are still posted. You wonder what happens to the highest- and lowest-scoring girls, when everyone can see how they did.

You can only guess at the readings for some of the names, even though you know most of the characters. That's why new students write their names on the digital whiteboard in front of the class, when they introduce themselves. Yours is kind of ordinary and easy to read, though, just like you.

In the corner of the bulletin board is a handwritten notice:

ATTENTION ALL STUDENTS

The forbidden thing is acceptable here.

You know what I'm talking about.

It can happen to you. It can happen to anyone.

Stay on the lookout.

Good luck!

Your breath catches in your throat as you read it.

What forbidden thing are they talking about? Is this some kind of game?

You don't know. You genuinely have no idea.

You fold your arms, hugging yourself, trying to calm down. But that makes you aware of your breasts. The movement and pressure gives you strange thoughts. Intrusive thoughts. Thoughts that you shouldn't be having.

You squeeze your hands into fists, clutching your uniform suit jacket tightly.

You decide not to think about any of this, and just head into class. You sit down at your desk, near the back of the room in the middle, and try your best not to fidget.

You feel completely alone. But with that anonymity comes a sense of safety. If everyone overlooks you, then no one is going to hurt you.

Oh, wait. Someone is waving to you. Trying to get your attention.

She's near the window. You can see her from the corner of your eye, as you look straight ahead at the digital whiteboard. She has shorter, light-coloured hair with twintails, compared to your long dark brown locks.

You've never been in this situation before. You do not know how to respond.

So you don't.

She clears her throat, and is about to say something, when the teacher enters the room and welcomes everyone to class. "Please take your seat, if you haven't already!" It sounds like a polite request, not a command.

You hold still during introductions. It'll be your turn soon, and you need to decide what to say.

You can hear tapping, clicking, and tapping again, as a brown-haired girl you don't recognize writes her name on the whiteboard with a shaky hand. Then she turns around to face everyone, hugging herself nervously, and tries to squeak out her introduction.

"I ... "

The corners of her eyes are watering.

"I-I ... "

She bursts into tears. "I shouldn't be here!"

She runs out.

Immediately, you follow her. You don't hesitate.

Something tells you that this place is dangerous. Something tells you this girl is in danger.

"Wait!" you call after her, but she's already rounded the corner.

You reach it, just in time to see her dive into the bathroom. The boys' room.

You stop in front of the door, perplexed.

Why is this here? you wonder. Is it for parents and visitors? Staff?

You hesitate and push the door open a little way. "Excuse me," you ask.

You don't hear anything.

You push it open a little more.

A little more.

A little more ...

Something catches your eye, on the floor. You don't realize what it is until you push the door open the rest of the way, and

The new girl is fucking dead.

Her corpse is sprawled next to the shiny, marble fixtures. Her blood pools on the tiled floor. In the sink. In handprints and writing all over the mirror.

Don't make noise, now.

You run back down the hall, letting the door swing shut behind you, covering your mouth in a silent scream. Tears run down your hands.

You can't let anyone hear you.

How could this happen again? The last time wasn't even too long ago. Now it's followed you here. You can't escape it.

You want to be safe. To be normal. But this always happens.

It takes you a minute to control your breathing and stop the tears. Two minutes. Three. You shake, and can't stop, and can't help yourself.

You feel like you're back where it happened the first time.

You take a deep, shuddering breath, determined to control your emotions. It's harder than you are used to. It's like your body just needs to cry, whether you like it or not.

But there's something else that you need to do. Whether you like it or not.

When you catch your breath, and mostly stop sniffling, you disassociate. You put your personhood out of your mind, and walk stiffly back towards the boys' room.

You push the door open with barely a pause.

Everything's clean. The body's not there. There aren't any streaks on the mirror. But there is something on the floor.

The new girl's student notebook.

You start to bend over, but feel a draft on your thighs from the door closing behind you. So instead you crouch, your skirt covering your unmentionables, and pick up the notebook with shaking hands.

It's waterproof, so you wash it off. Who knows how many germs are on the floor.

After drying it, and your hands and face, you walk back to room 1-B as fast as you can.

You do not look in the mirror.

---

"My name is Aizawa Kamiko. I am originally from [YOUR HOME COUNTRY]. I look forward to working with you all. Please be patient with me." You bow deeply.

Everyone claps for you.

You feel nothing as you sit back down.

 

 

 

Author's Note:

"Don't die, Aizawa-chan."