Ijimeru Nara Watashi No Karada Ni Shite! File

The phrase echoed in my skull: my body, my body, my body. Not as a prayer. As a promise.

My feet moved before my mind caught up. I stepped between them—the pack of hyenas and their prey—and said the words that had lived in my chest since seventh grade. ijimeru nara watashi no karada ni shite!

That night, I traced the bruise forming on my shoulder blade. Purple and green, ugly and tender. A map of someone else’s anger. But also—a shield. Not for me. For the kid who went home unbroken. The phrase echoed in my skull: my body, my body, my body

The smaller kid stared at me, eyes wet and wide. “Why would you—” My feet moved before my mind caught up

The hallway stretched endlessly, fluorescent lights humming like trapped flies. At the far end, a smaller figure was cornered—backpack straps pulled, glasses askew, laughter like broken glass echoing off the lockers.

“If you’re going to bully someone,” I repeated, voice steady, “do it to my body instead.”

“Because someone did it for me once,” I lied. No one had. But someone should have. And now, someone would.