The morning air was crisp and damp as Haruki walked through the school gates, his bag slung over one shoulder and his thoughts heavier than ever. The sky above was still shrouded in gray clouds from the previous day’s rain, and the faint scent of wet earth lingered in the breeze.
Every step he took felt deliberate, measured, as if he were walking into battle. His interactions with Aoi and Eiji the day before had left him raw, exposed in a way he wasn’t used to. And yet, despite his efforts to push them away, their words clung to him like a stubborn shadow.
“You’re drowning.”
“You don’t have to do this alone.”
Haruki clenched his jaw, shoving the voices to the back of his mind as he entered the building. The usual hum of activity greeted him—students chatting in clusters, the faint scrape of chairs being pushed back, the rhythmic squeak of sneakers against the polished floors.
It was all so painfully normal.
He reached his locker and began switching out his shoes, his movements slow and mechanical. The sound of footsteps approaching made him pause, and he glanced up to see Aoi standing a few feet away, her arms crossed and her expression unreadable.
“Morning,” she said, her tone neutral but her gaze steady.
Haruki returned his attention to his locker, grabbing his indoor shoes. “Morning.”
Aoi didn’t move. She stood there, watching him with the same piercing intensity that had unsettled him countless times before.
“You’re not going to talk about it, are you?” she asked.
“Talk about what?” Haruki replied without looking at her.
“Yesterday,” Aoi said, stepping closer. “The men on the rooftop. The fact that they called you Nakamura. The fact that you lied to me.”
Haruki sighed, slipping on his shoes and closing his locker with a soft click. “I already told you, Kisaragi. It’s none of your business.”
Aoi’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t get to decide that.”
Haruki finally turned to face her, his expression hard. “Yes, I do. You think you want to know the truth, but trust me—you don’t.”
Aoi opened her mouth to respond, but the sharp trill of the first bell cut her off. She hesitated, her frustration evident, before finally stepping back.
“This isn’t over,” she said quietly.
Haruki didn’t respond. He slung his bag over his shoulder and walked past her, his footsteps echoing faintly in the emptying hallway.
The classroom felt suffocating as the morning lessons dragged on. Haruki sat at his desk near the window, his notebook open but untouched. The teacher’s voice was little more than background noise, a dull hum that faded in and out of focus.
His mind kept wandering back to the rooftop—back to the men who had so casually shattered the fragile barrier between his two worlds. They hadn’t even tried to hide their intentions, and that made it worse.
It wasn’t just about him anymore.
Aoi had been there, standing just a few feet away, and now she was caught in the orbit of his family’s mess. He had tried to keep her out of it, to shield her from the truth, but the cracks in his armor were growing wider.
Haruki glanced at the back of the classroom, where Aoi sat with her head down, scribbling furiously in her notebook. Her lips were pressed into a thin line, and her brow was furrowed in concentration—or perhaps frustration.
He knew she wouldn’t stop digging. Aoi Kisaragi wasn’t the type to back down, no matter how many walls he put up.
Haruki’s grip on his pen tightened. What am I supposed to do?
By the time lunch rolled around, Haruki’s nerves were frayed. He made his way to the cafeteria, hoping to grab something quick and escape to a quiet corner before anyone could corner him.
But as he stepped into the bustling room, a familiar voice called out.
“Haruki! Over here!”
Eiji waved from a nearby table, his usual grin plastered across his face. Haruki hesitated for a moment, weighing his options, before reluctantly making his way over.
“Hey,” Eiji said as Haruki sat down, sliding his tray onto the table. “You look like you didn’t sleep again. Late-night gaming or something?”
“Something like that,” Haruki muttered, poking at his rice with his chopsticks.
Eiji leaned forward, his grin fading slightly. “You know, if you ever need to talk—”
“I’m fine,” Haruki said quickly, cutting him off.
Eiji raised an eyebrow but didn’t press further. Instead, he shifted the conversation to a story about a ridiculous prank one of their classmates had pulled during gym class.
Haruki nodded along, forcing himself to focus on Eiji’s animated retelling. But no matter how hard he tried, his thoughts kept drifting back to Aoi—to the way she had looked at him that morning, her eyes filled with equal parts frustration and concern.
And to the way he had shut her out.
When the final bell rang, Haruki lingered in his seat, waiting for the classroom to empty before gathering his things. He didn’t want to run into Aoi again—not yet. He needed time to think, to figure out how to handle the situation before it spiraled further out of control.
But as he made his way down the hallway, he heard her voice behind him.
“Haruki.”
He stopped, his shoulders tensing. Slowly, he turned to face her.
Aoi stood a few feet away, her bag slung over one shoulder and her expression calm but determined.
“We need to talk,” she said.
Haruki exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “What is there to talk about, Kisaragi?”
“You know exactly what,” Aoi said, stepping closer. “I’m not going to keep pretending nothing happened yesterday. I want answers.”
Haruki frowned. “And what if I can’t give you answers?”
“Then I’ll find them myself,” Aoi said without hesitation.
Her words sent a jolt of panic through him. “No,” he said quickly, his voice sharper than he intended.
Aoi blinked, startled by his tone.
“You can’t,” Haruki said, his voice softening. “You don’t know what you’re getting into.”
“Then tell me,” Aoi said, her eyes narrowing.
Haruki hesitated, the weight of the decision pressing down on him like a vice. He wanted to protect her, to keep her from being dragged into the darkness that surrounded him. But he also knew that if he kept pushing her away, she would only dig deeper—and that would put her in even more danger.
Finally, he sighed, lowering his gaze. “It’s not safe,” he said quietly. “That’s all I can say right now.”
Aoi frowned, clearly unsatisfied with his answer. But she didn’t push further. Instead, she stepped back, her expression softening slightly.
“Fine,” she said. “But you can’t keep running forever, Haruki.”
With that, she turned and walked away, leaving Haruki standing alone in the empty hallway.