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.
The sneering ringleader tilted his head. “You’re weird.” ijimeru nara watashi no karada ni shite!
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
They didn’t know what to do with that—with a target that volunteered, a body that refused to flinch the way they wanted. After a few more muttered insults, the pack dissolved, drifting back into the current of students who never noticed the small violences happening in plain sight. “You’re weird
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.
“If you’re going to bully someone,” I repeated, voice steady, “do it to my body instead.”