Bare Wounds

Daily lessons proceed step-by-step, brand-new textbooks flipped open, unfamiliar knowledge filled in, time slipping away in the soft sound of chalk scraping across the blackboard.

In Class B, the first few days weren't entirely silent. Shimiya Kuki's handsome yet overly calm face, along with the "sparkling" moment Ichinose Honami had described at enrollment, briefly drew curious glances. In those initial days, a few outgoing classmates tried to strike up conversations with him.

"Shimiya-kun, want to go to the cafeteria together?"

"Shimiya-kun, what do you think of this math problem?"

"Kuki-kun, want to check out the shopping street after school?"

Faced with these goodwill gestures, Shimiya Kuki's responses were always short and direct.

"No, thanks."

"The solution is on page XX of the textbook."

"I have other things today, sorry."

His tone wasn't cold, just excessively flat, lacking the warmth and emotional fluctuation typical of a youth. His gaze was calm like a still lake surface, showing neither rejection nor willingness to accept. After a few tries, the enthusiasm of classmates attempting to approach him faded, as if hitting an invisible insulating wall. Those initial attempts turned into polite nods of greeting. Eventually, a subtle vacuum zone formed around his seat by the window. Everyone grew accustomed to this classmate with a faint presence, seemingly uninterested in socializing.

It wasn't deliberate alienation—just that his way of being naturally made it hard to get close. He didn't reject making friends, but each time, he subconsciously kept his distance. It seemed the influence of his past life lingered. Still, school life was long, and he could change slowly. For now, he could only apologize to the classmates who showed him kindness.

In sharp contrast stood Ichinose Honami. She was like the heart of Class B, beating with vibrant energy. With her cloudless smile, sincere attitude toward others, and efficiency in handling class affairs, she was almost unanimously elected class president. Like a small sun, she warmly illuminated every corner of Class B, always promptly delivering notices, mediating small conflicts, organizing activities, and melting away the strangeness of first meetings in laughter and conversation.

Kanzaki Ryuji, with his cool head and the halo of an enrollment deviation value of 79.8, became the class's recognized "brain trust." He had exchanged words with Shimiya Kuki a few times, usually when discussing some complex logical problem or classroom doubt. Shimiya Kuki's precise, concise, and core-targeting way of answering unexpectedly aligned with Kanzaki's rationalist mindset, earning him extra attention from this silent classmate.

In a week, classmates with similar personalities had formed small groups, reaching a delicate balance. What broke that balance was the swimming lesson that came a week later.

The swimming lesson venue was the school's advanced heated swimming hall. Beneath the huge glass dome, the pool water shimmered with a clear blue light. The locker room buzzed with youthful energy and the slight shyness of first-time exposure. When Shimiya Kuki took off his T-shirt, revealing his upper body, the air around the originally noisy cubicles suddenly froze for a moment.

Several gazes, like searchlights, uncontrollably focused on him.

It wasn't the smooth skin typical of a youth. Across his chest, back, and even his sides, several scars—some deep, some shallow, already healed but still clear—were scattered. They twisted like faded vines, wrapped around his well-proportioned but slightly lean frame. The most striking was a scar about ten centimeters long below his left collarbone, darker in color than the others, with fine hypertrophic scars at the edges, like a hideous crawling centipede slanted above the heart. This scar mark's presence was too strong, instantly seizing all attention.

Whispers spread like tiny ripples through the locker room.

"Whoa... that's..."

"So many scars..."

"That one on the chest... looks scary..."

"Was it an accident?"

"Or..."

Curiosity, surprise, a hint of barely perceptible fear—all mixed into those gazes and murmurs. Shimiya Kuki acted as if he hadn't heard, seemingly unconcerned by the focused stares. Expressionless, he put on his swim trunks, his movements smooth and natural, as if the scars coiled on his body were just ordinary tattoos. He picked up a towel, casually draped it over his shoulder, covering most of the marks on his back, but the deepest scar on his chest remained exposed to the warm air.

"Shimiya-kun!"

Ichinose Honami's voice came from the side, carrying clear concern. She had already changed into her swimsuit, her usual bright smile replaced by undisguised worry. She quickly walked over to Shimiya Kuki, her brows slightly furrowed, her clear gaze falling on the hideous scar on his chest, filled with pure concern—no morbid curiosity, no fear.

"Your body... these injuries..." Her voice was very soft, a cautious probe, "They look... pretty serious? Are you... okay now?" She even subconsciously reached out, as if to touch the scar to confirm something, but stopped abruptly just as her fingertips were about to approach, pulling back awkwardly, her fingers curling slightly.

Shimiya Kuki turned his head, meeting Ichinose Honami's worried eyes. His expression remained calm, his gaze as still as autumn lake water. He lightly tugged at the towel on his shoulder, a casual motion that perfectly covered a small part of the most striking scar.

"Just some old injuries." His voice was steady, betraying no emotion, as if stating a fact unrelated to himself. "They no longer affect daily life. So, no need to worry." His tone was flat, but carried an undeniable sense of finality.

Ichinose Honami opened her mouth, as if to ask more, but looking at Shimiya Kuki's calm and unwavering eyes and his clear reluctance to discuss further, she swallowed her words. The pure concern in her eyes didn't diminish, but she pressed her lips together and gave a soft "mm." Then, as if remembering something, she turned to glance around—at the curious or startled gazes still fixed on Shimiya. She took a deep breath, forced her usual bright smile back onto her face—though it was a bit strained now, still full of vitality—and raised her voice deliberately, carrying a sunny warmth to dispel the invisible low pressure in the locker room:

"Alright, everyone, speed it up! The teacher's already blowing the whistle to gather outside!" She even waved her hand instinctively, as if to brush away the invisible prying and heavy atmosphere, her movements full of natural encouragement. "Swimming lesson time is precious, don't keep the teacher waiting!"

"Old injuries?" A calm, almost scrutinizing voice cut in. Kanzaki Ryuji had also changed into his swim trunks, his gaze sharp, like a scalpel precisely dissecting the scar half-hidden by the towel. His eyes lingered on the scar's position, direction, and healing pattern for a few seconds, his brows furrowed, as if quickly searching for relevant information in his mind.

"Shimiya," Kanzaki's voice carried a scientist's almost cold objectivity, "if I may speak frankly. The position and shape of this scar on your chest... are very close to the major blood vessel area of the heart." He paused, choosing his words, but ultimately opted for the most direct expression. "Judging from the scar's form, the trauma at the time must have been quite severe, most likely a penetrating injury. An injury of that degree... one misstep, and it would have been instantly fatal or beyond rescue. That's dangerous, isn't it?"

Kanzaki's analysis was precise and icy, like a stimulant shot, instantly chilling the surrounding air a few degrees more. The classmates who had been whispering earlier now held their breath, looking at Shimiya Kuki with even deeper shock and lingering fear.

Shimiya Kuki was silent for a moment. He turned slightly, facing Kanzaki and Ichinose directly, making the scar faintly visible beneath the towel. His gaze didn't waver, calmly meeting Kanzaki's eyes full of a desire to investigate. Sunlight streamed through the huge glass dome, casting clear shadows on his well-defined profile, the scar appearing even more pronounced in the interplay of light and shadow.

"Yeah." He finally spoke, his voice still steady, but it felt like dropping a heavy boulder into a calm lake surface. "I almost didn't make it through. But now, it doesn't affect anything anymore."

He paused, his gaze seeming to pierce through the people before him, staring into some distant, vague void. A trace of extremely complex, hard-to-describe emotion, like an undercurrent, flickered in the depths of his deep-pool-like eyes. Too fast to catch, but it was real.

"But," his focus returned, landing on Kanzaki Ryuji and Ichinose Honami, his tone taking on a hint of something elusive, "in a way, I have to thank this scar."

Thank?

This word was like a drop of water into hot oil, stirring up huge waves in Kanzaki and Ichinose's minds. Thanking an almost fatal scar? That logic was completely beyond their understanding. Ichinose blinked in confusion, her red lips slightly parted. Kanzaki's gaze behind his glasses suddenly sharpened, full of inquiry and bewilderment.

But Shimiya Kuki didn't give them a chance to ask further. He gave a slight nod, a gesture of distant politeness, his tone returning to its previous flatness, but with an added invisible barrier:

"As for the specific reasons, I'm afraid I can't say. Still, thank you for your concern."

With that, he ignored their gazes—mixed with shock and curiosity—and the even more complex looks from the surrounding classmates. He turned, draped the towel back over his shoulder, and walked steadily toward the pool entrance. His silhouette looked somewhat thin under the bright hall lights, but his steps were exceptionally steady. The exposed, hideous old scar rose and fell slightly with the movement of his muscles as he walked, like a silent brand, an unsolvable riddle, a heavy past he carried calmly into the clear pool water.

The air in the locker room seemed to freeze for a few seconds before flowing again with the swimming teacher's whistle urging them to gather. The murmurs resumed, more heated than before, but deliberately kept low. Ichinose Honami watched Shimiya Kuki's back disappear through the entrance, her worried expression lingering for a long time, finally turning into a soft sigh. Kanzaki Ryuji stood still, his gaze deep, filled with an unsatisfied strong curiosity and analytical drive.

That scar, along with Shimiya Kuki's words "thank" and "can't say."