The faint scent of chalk and old wood filled the quiet air of the classroom. Haruki sat alone at his desk, the hum of distant conversations in the hallway fading into the background. Lunch had ended fifteen minutes ago, and while most students were still slowly filtering back into the room, Haruki had chosen to return early.
It wasn’t out of a sudden sense of responsibility—far from it. He needed the space to think. His conversation with Aoi in the hallway earlier was still fresh in his mind, every word echoing as if etched into stone.
"This isn’t over."
Of course it wasn’t. Aoi wasn’t the type to back down, and her stubbornness was as frustrating as it was... admirable. Haruki shook his head, scowling at himself. Now wasn’t the time to get sentimental about Kisaragi.
Leaning back in his chair, he let his gaze wander to the window. The gray skies from the morning had finally given way to streaks of pale blue, the afternoon sun breaking through in soft rays. It gave the campus a false sense of calm, as though the outside world wasn’t as complicated and tangled as his own life.
He glanced at his notebook, open on his desk but still blank. A half-hearted attempt at taking notes during the last lesson had ended in failure, the page marked only by faint scribbles where his pen had hovered aimlessly.
The faint creak of the classroom door pulled him from his thoughts.
Haruki didn’t look up at first, assuming it was just another student returning early. But the sound of deliberate footsteps caught his attention. He glanced toward the door, his body tensing instinctively.
A man stood in the doorway. Not a teacher or a student, but someone who looked wildly out of place in the quiet classroom. His tailored black suit and the faint glint of a silver watch on his wrist set him apart immediately. Haruki’s blood ran cold as the man stepped inside, his sharp gaze scanning the room before landing squarely on Haruki.
Haruki didn’t need an introduction to know who he was. The Nakamura family’s reach extended far, and this man’s presence here could only mean one thing: a message.
The man’s footsteps echoed as he approached, his polished shoes clicking softly against the floor. He stopped a few feet from Haruki’s desk, his hands clasped behind his back.
“Haruki Nakamura,” the man said, his voice low but firm.
Haruki glanced around the room, confirming that they were alone. “You shouldn’t be here,” he said quietly, his tone calm but edged with warning.
The man smirked faintly. “You’re a hard man to track down, you know. But I’m not here to cause trouble. I was sent to remind you of your responsibilities.”
Haruki’s jaw tightened, his hands clenching into fists beneath the desk. “I’m already handling it.”
“Are you?” the man asked, his gaze sharp. “Because from where your father is standing, it doesn’t look that way.”
Haruki bristled at the mention of his father. “Tell him I don’t need babysitters. I’ve got everything under control.”
The man chuckled softly, a sound that grated on Haruki’s nerves. “Control is a funny thing, isn’t it? It can slip through your fingers before you even realize it’s gone.”
Haruki stood abruptly, the legs of his chair scraping loudly against the floor. “If you’ve delivered your message, you can leave now.”
The man’s smirk widened, as though amused by Haruki’s defiance. “You’ve got your father’s temper, I’ll give you that.”
Haruki didn’t respond, his gaze locked on the man as he stepped back toward the door. But before he left, the man turned, his expression darkening slightly.
“Don’t forget what’s at stake, Nakamura,” he said quietly. “The next time we visit, it won’t be just to deliver a message.”
The door clicked shut, leaving Haruki standing in the middle of the classroom, his pulse racing. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself, but the man’s words lingered in the air like a warning bell.
A faint rustle behind him made him freeze.
Slowly, Haruki turned to see Aoi standing in the doorway, her eyes wide and her face pale.
“How long have you been standing there?” Haruki asked, his voice low.
Aoi hesitated, her hand gripping the strap of her bag tightly. “Long enough,” she said.
Haruki’s chest tightened. He’d been so focused on the man that he hadn’t even noticed her approach.
“What did you hear?” he asked, though he wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer.
Aoi stepped inside, her movements slow and cautious. “Enough to know you’re lying to me,” she said, her voice trembling slightly.
Haruki looked away, his jaw clenching. “It’s not what you think.”
“Then tell me what it is,” Aoi said, her voice growing firmer. “Who was that man? Why did he call you Nakamura?”
Haruki didn’t respond, his mind racing. He could feel the walls he’d carefully constructed around himself beginning to crumble, and for the first time, he wasn’t sure if he could stop it.
“Haruki,” Aoi said, stepping closer. Her gaze was steady, but there was a flicker of something else in her expression—concern. “I want to help you, but I can’t do that if you keep shutting me out.”
“You can’t help me,” Haruki said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.
“Why not?” Aoi asked, her tone softening.
“Because it’s dangerous,” Haruki said, finally meeting her gaze. “If you get involved, you’ll only get hurt.”
Aoi frowned, her eyes searching his face. “I’m already involved, Haruki. Whether you like it or not.”
Her words hit him like a punch to the gut. She was right, of course. No matter how hard he’d tried to keep her at arm’s length, she had been pulled into his world the moment she started asking questions.
But that didn’t make it any easier to accept.
Haruki exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair. “I didn’t want this,” he said quietly. “I didn’t want you to get dragged into my mess.”
“Then tell me what’s going on,” Aoi said. “I deserve to know the truth.”
Haruki hesitated, his mind a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts. He wanted to tell her—to finally let someone share the burden he’d been carrying for so long. But the thought of exposing her to the dangers of his world made his chest tighten with fear.
“I can’t,” he said finally, his voice strained.
Aoi’s expression hardened. “You keep saying that, but you never tell me why.”
“Because I’m trying to protect you,” Haruki said, his voice rising slightly. “Don’t you get that?”
Aoi’s eyes widened at his outburst, but she didn’t back down. “I don’t need your protection, Haruki. I need the truth.”
The room fell silent, the weight of their words hanging heavily in the air. Haruki looked away, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “But I can’t give you what you’re asking for.”
Aoi stared at him for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then, without another word, she turned and walked out of the classroom, leaving Haruki alone once again.
As the sound of her footsteps faded, Haruki sank back into his seat, his head in his hands. The walls he’d built around himself felt like they were closing in, and for the first time, he wasn’t sure if he could hold them together.
The weight of his choices pressed down on him like a heavy storm cloud, and he knew one thing for certain: the cracks were only getting deeper.