My gaze flickered towards the front one last time. Mia was sitting upright, facing the front, pen poised over her notebook, already looking focused and ready to learn. Completely in her element. Completely unaware of the small, quiet battle that had just been fought – and lost – in the back corner of the room, partly because of her unintended presence.
Yeah. Definitely just an NPC.
The noise of the classroom settled further as Mr. Dela Cruz began speaking. The mundane reality of biology class descended, a suffocating blanket of normal. I tried to focus on the whiteboard, on the neat diagrams of cell division, but Daniel's words, his touch, the cold threat in his eyes, vibrated under my skin. Stay away from people you shouldn't be bothering. The message was crystal clear. And the brief, ridiculous flicker of hope from the morning walk felt less like a blip and more like a cruel joke.
He was right. This wasn't an anime. There were no magical encounters that changed your fate. There was just the hierarchy, the power dynamics, the immutable rules of the school jungle. And I was at the bottom.
A rough hand clamped down on my shoulder. I flinched violently, my head snapping up. It was Daniel, leaning over my desk again, his face a mask of mock concern.
"Hey, Rivera," he whispered, loud enough for a few heads nearby to turn discreetly. Mr. Dela Cruz was still facing the board, drawing. "Need to borrow you for a sec. Got a... question about homework."
My stomach twisted. Homework? This wasn't about homework. This was about earlier. This was about Mia. My heart hammered against my ribs. My carefully constructed focus on mitosis shattered.
"I... I can't," I mumbled, trying to make my voice sound like I was actually worried about missing class, not terrified of him.
His grip tightened, digging into my uniform. "It's important," he hissed, the humor gone. "Right now. Don't make a scene."
Don't make a scene. The oldest trick. The threat wrapped in a plea for order. Because making a scene would draw attention, and even if no one helped, it would force Mr. Dela Cruz to see. And Daniel didn't want that.
I glanced desperately towards the front. Mr. Dela Cruz was still drawing. Mia was taking notes. No one was looking. The classroom was a bubble of focused inactivity, and I was the pin being silently, carefully pushed through the surface.
"Come on," Daniel said, pulling lightly but insistently on my shoulder.
Resistance felt impossible. Futile. It would only make it worse. My mind screamed NO, but my body was already conceding, the learned response to superior force kicking in. Every instinct told me to go quietly, minimize the damage.
I pushed my chair back slowly, the scrape a tiny violation of the classroom's quiet. Daniel straightened, keeping a hand on my arm, guiding me out of the aisle. We walked towards the door, a silent, disturbing procession. My eyes stayed fixed on the floor. I could feel the weight of the few eyes that did flick up to watch us, quickly looking away. No one said anything. No one asked.
Mr. Dela Cruz paused in his drawing, cleared his throat, and said, "Leaving the room, Montefalco?" He didn't turn around.
"Just bathroom, sir," Daniel called back, smooth as ice. "He needs... uh... help finding the way."
Help finding the way. A blatant lie, layering humiliation onto the coercion. Mr. Dela Cruz grunted, the sound dismissive, and went back to his diagram. Permission granted. Or rather, disinterest confirmed.
And just like that, I was being escorted out of the classroom, out of the school building, and into the harsh morning light. Daniel's grip was firm, a promise of pain. Leo and another guy I barely knew, Marco, were flanking us loosely.
The walk felt long and surreal. We didn't go to the bathroom. We didn't go to the clinic. We went out the back door, the one usually only used by maintenance staff or for emergencies. We walked along the perimeter fence, away from the main gates, away from potential witnesses. The school building loomed large behind us, its windows reflecting the sky, silent and indifferent.
They didn't talk much at first, just walked fast, pulling me along. My mind was a frantic mess of where are we going? and what are they going to do? My elbow still ached from the fall this morning. Now, a new kind of dread was settling deep in my gut.
They led me down side streets, past quiet houses with barking dogs, towards an area I rarely went. It was about twenty minutes from the school, maybe more. The streets got narrower, the buildings older. The sounds of traffic faded, replaced by a different hum – the distant electronic noise of an arcade.
They finally turned into a narrow alleyway between two brick buildings. It smelled of damp concrete, overflowing trash bins, and cheap cigarette smoke. Sunlight didn't reach the bottom, leaving it in perpetual shadow. It was tucked away, hidden, the perfect spot for things you didn't want anyone to see.
They stopped. Daniel shoved me against the brick wall. The rough surface scraped my uniform.
"Alright, listen up, loser," Daniel's voice was different here, sharper, meaner, no longer needing the classroom pretense. "Thought you were getting brave this morning, huh? Running into people? Talking back?"
He pulled something out of his pocket. A strip of cloth, dark and grimy. My blood ran cold.
"Let's make things a little... less distracting, shall we?" he smirked.
He tied the cloth roughly around my eyes. Darkness. Immediate, suffocating darkness. My world shrank to the rough feel of the fabric against my skin, the sound of their breathing, and the pounding of my own heart.
"Hey, let me see his ID," Leo's voice came from nearby. "Just wanna make sure he knows who he's dealing with."
I felt a hand fumble with the lanyard around my neck, the one with my school ID card. They yanked it off.
"Yeah, Kira Rivera," Leo said, a sneer in his voice. "Remember that name, idiot. We own you."
Daniel chuckled, a low, ugly sound. "Okay, Kira Rivera," he said, right next to my ear. "Time for a little lesson on staying in your lane."
And then the first punch landed. Hard, in my stomach. It doubled me over, gasping. Another to my side. A kick to my shin. They weren't aiming for my face yet, keeping it hidden, focusing on pain that wouldn't show too much, too quickly. Just enough to hurt. To humiliate. To reinforce the lesson.
I stumbled, hitting the wall again. My knees felt weak. I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to protect my ribs, my gut. But they were faster, stronger. Pain flared in a dozen places. The blindfold made it worse, amplifying the terror of not seeing the attacks coming.
Their voices were distorted in the dark, circling me like predators. Taunts mixed with the sounds of impacts. "Think you're tough?" "Shouldn't have opened your mouth." "Stay away from Mia, got it?" The last one, from Daniel, punctuated by a sharp blow to my back that sent me stumbling forward again.
"Got it?" he barked.
"Y-yes," I choked out, the word catching in my bruised throat.
"Speak up, idiot!" A hand shoved me hard from behind.
"YES!" I yelled, the sound pathetic and desperate in the narrow alley.
The attacks slowed, replaced by heavy breathing. I leaned against the wall, trembling, trying to catch my breath. Every inhale was shallow and painful.
"Alright," Daniel's voice. "Leave him here. Lesson learned."
I heard footsteps receding, fading towards the alley entrance. They were leaving. Leaving me blindfolded, aching, in this stinking alley.
The sound of their laughter echoed back before finally disappearing. Silence descended, broken only by my own ragged breathing.
I waited, tense, for any sign they were still there, that this was a trick. But the silence held. Slowly, tentatively, I reached up, my fingers fumbling with the knot of the blindfold. It was tight. My hands were shaking.
It took several fumbling seconds, but I finally managed to loosen it, pulling the grimy cloth away from my eyes.
Sunlight. Too bright at first, making me squint. I blinked rapidly, trying to clear my vision. The alley was empty. Just the brick walls, the overflowing bins, the damp ground.
I was alone. Bruised, sore, humiliated. But alone.
I sank down onto the ground, leaning my head back against the cool brick. My body ached. My pride was in pieces. The brief, impossible magic of the morning was well and truly gone, replaced by the familiar, brutal reality of my life.
Reality's harsh, bro. The words tasted like blood in my mouth.
Meanwhile, about twenty minutes away, near the entrance to the arcade on the main drag...
Lenette Rivera, Quincy, and Daphne were hanging out. School was definitely not where they were supposed to be. It was 9 AM. First period biology was probably happening right about now. But the lure of the arcade's dusty machines and the freedom of ditching class had been too strong.
They weren't exactly the straightest arrows. Lenette, fifteen, with a restless energy and a fierce, almost defiant slouch. Quincy, her best friend, observant and a little cynical, perpetually fiddling with a cheap lighter even though she didn't smoke. And Daphne, quieter, rounder faced, with anxious eyes that saw everything but rarely commented.
They were tucked into a recessed doorway, arguing softly about whose turn it was to buy the next round of tokens. Lenette was hunched over her phone, her thumbs flying across the screen, a world away in whatever digital space she currently inhabited.
"No way, it's totally your turn, Daph," Quincy insisted, flicking the lighter open and shut. "You owed me from Tuesday."
"But I bought the fries!" Daphne protested weakly.
"Fries were separate! Tokens are group budget!"
Lenette just hummed, not looking up. "Hold on, almost beat this level."
Quincy rolled her eyes, but a sudden movement down the street caught her eye. Further down the alley opposite the arcade, where the shadows were deepest. A group of guys. Looked like... Daniel and his crew?
"Hey. Check it out," Quincy nudged Daphne, nodding subtly towards the alley.
Daphne followed her gaze, her eyes widening slightly. "Whoa. Is that... yeah, that's Daniel."
They watched as the group seemed to have someone cornered against the wall. There was some pushing, some rough handling.
"They're roughing someone up," Quincy murmured, her voice low. "Bastards."
It wasn't an uncommon sight, sadly, but seeing Daniel and his main thugs always sent a little shiver. They were the worst kind – casual, petty cruel.
The guy they had seemed to be struggling slightly. In the dim light, it was hard to make out details. He was slight, maybe wearing a school uniform?
"Looks like a school uniform," Daphne whispered, biting her lip.
Quincy leaned forward slightly, trying to see better. The guy was blindfolded. That was messed up. Then, as the guy stumbled and one of Daniel's goons grabbed him, something fell or swung out. A school ID lanyard.
"Wait! Look at the ID!" Quincy's voice was sharper now. "I saw... the name tag... Rivera? R-I-V..." She squinted, but the light was bad, and they were too far.
"Rivera?" Daphne frowned. "Anyone we know with that name?"
"I can't see his face, he's blindfolded," Quincy said, a sense of unease creeping in. "But it definitely said Rivera on the ID." She turned to Lenette, who was still absorbed in her phone.
"Hey, Lenette! Look!" Quincy said, nudging her harder. "Lenette! Are you listening?"
Lenette didn't respond immediately, just a low sound of concentration.
"Lenette!" Daphne joined in, her voice tinged with more anxiety now. "Look! Daniel's beating someone up, and his ID said Rivera!"
But Lenette had just reached a critical point in her game. Her brow was furrowed in intense focus.
"Hold on, almost there... YES!" Lenette punched the air lightly, a small triumph. "Finally beat that boss! What? You guys said something?" She finally looked up, blinking, coming back to the real world.
Quincy and Daphne exchanged exasperated glances. Daniel and his crew were already walking away from the alley, their victim left slumped against the wall, mostly hidden from view now.
"Ugh, Lenette! Too bad, you missed it!" Quincy said, throwing her hands up. "Because you were glued to your phone! Just now, over in that alley," she pointed, "we saw Daniel and his gang torturing someone, beating him up!"
"Torturing?" Lenette asked, raising an eyebrow, a flicker of interest appearing. That sounded more exciting than token arguments. "Seriously? Who?"
"We couldn't see his face, he was blindfolded," Daphne explained, her voice still a little shaky. "But when his ID fell out, or, like, swung out... it said Rivera. It looked like he was wearing a school uniform too."
Lenette's eyes narrowed slightly. "Rivera... huh."
"Yeah!" Quincy jumped back in. "Quincy saw it too, right, Daph? Definitely Rivera. We were wondering... is he maybe, like, a relative or something? Since he had your last name?"
Lenette shrugged, a casual, dismissive gesture. "Maybe? Lots of Riveras in the world, I guess." Then her expression shifted, a faint, almost proud smile touching her lips. "Uhh, yeah, I did mention I have an older brother, didn't I?"
Quincy and Daphne nodded slowly. "Yeah, you did."
"He's... like, one year ahead of us," Lenette continued, her tone changing, becoming softer, almost boastful in a weird, indirect way. "Third year JHS. But he had class right now. Like, first period." She laughed, a short, dry sound. "My brother is really intelligent and a good student. He wouldn't ditch class like us, haha. He's different. We're... you know. Delinquents. Or thugs. That's what the adults always call us, haha."
Quincy and Daphne chuckled faintly. It was their self-assigned identity, a badge of slight rebellion.
"Ahh, right," Quincy said, nodding in recognition. "We remember you telling a story that you're totally the opposite of your brother. Unlike you – the fight-obsessed girl – your brother dislikes fighting and studies hard. Unlike you," she repeated, emphasizing the contrast.
"Totally!" Lenette agreed, puffing out her chest slightly. "He's like... the model student. Always gets good grades. Doesn't cause trouble. Doesn't even raise his voice."
"So," Daphne asked hesitantly, looking away. "Does your brother... know that you're... you know... a gangster in school?" The word felt big and awkward coming from her.
Lenette's casual posture stiffened fractionally. Her eyes, which had been bright with amusement while talking about her brother, became guarded. "Of course not," she said, her voice dropping, becoming serious. "Why would I tell him? Or my parents? None of them know." She crossed her arms. "They think I'm just... regular. Quiet, maybe. Annoying little sister."
She looked down at her hands, turning them over. They looked normal. Teenage hands. But they knew how to make a fist connect. They knew blocks and strikes. "They don't know I secretly trained. Or that I can actually... handle myself." A flicker of pride, but also something guarded and lonely, crossed her face. "I mean, why worry them, right? Better they think I'm just... Kira's annoying sister." She used her brother's first name, almost an afterthought, a label they might know her by at school.
Quincy and Daphne were quiet for a moment, processing this familiar facet of Lenette – the hidden strength she rarely showed, the secret life she compartmentalized so completely.
"Yeah," Quincy finally said, looking back towards the alley entrance with a thoughtful frown. "Still... Rivera, huh. Weird."
Lenette shrugged again, pushing the topic away. "Probably just a coincidence. Come on, let's go get those tokens. This boss level made me crave some fighting games."
She turned and headed towards the loud entrance of the arcade, leaving Quincy and Daphne to follow, the image of the blindfolded figure in the alley and the name "Rivera" lingering, a tiny, unresolved puzzle piece they hadn't placed yet. Lenette, lost in her own thoughts of virtual combat and carefully maintained secrets, was already moving on. She had no idea the blindfolded person in the alley, the "Rivera," was the brother she had just so casually dismissed as being safely in class.