There was softness beneath her. A quiet warmth against the ache she couldn't quite remember.
The air carried a faint chill, brushing against her skin in lazy intervals, stirred by a ceiling fan spinning halfheartedly above. The room smelled of clean linens and something sharper — disinfectant, maybe — dulled only by the faint trace of lilac in the air.
The ceiling was pale, endless. The only sound was a steady, measured beep somewhere out of sight, a pulse that wasn't hers, but kept time anyway.
Her fingers twitched against the blanket.
Then, movement.
A spill of yellow hair, catching the light in soft waves. It pooled at the edge of the bed, and for a moment she wasn't sure if it was real or part of the dull haze in her head. But as her eyes followed it, they found the figure it belonged to — slumped against the bedside, arms folded beneath her head.
Sleeping.
The warmth should've been comforting. It wasn't.
A quiet weight pressed against her chest, sharp and uninvited. She tried to swallow it, but her throat ached.
The room felt too small.
The tickle of a lilac petal brushing her cheek pulled her out of it, light as air, carried by the fan's indifferent breeze. She tensed — not at the touch, but at the suddenness of it, at the sense that she didn't deserve this room, or that person by her side.
"Hh–h'chh!"
The sneeze broke the hush, a fragile, unsteady sound.
Claire stirred. A small sound escaped her as she blinked herself awake, her lashes heavy with sleep. There was a second — just a second — where she looked lost, somewhere between dreaming and waking.
Then her gaze found the one in the bed, and her whole posture shifted.
"Rose!"
Claire's voice cracked on the name, a squeak sharpened by relief and something dangerously close to fear. She bolted upright, yellow hair tumbling over her shoulder, hands clutching the blanket too tight.
The weight in the room shifted.
One pair of hands trembled against the covers. The other stayed still. The girl in the bed turned slightly toward the window, though her gaze never followed. A soft, guilty breath slipped from her lips — the kind someone lets out when words aren't enough, and maybe never will be.
A part of her wanted to say sorry.
Another part wasn't sure if it was for almost dying, or for making someone else carry the fear she swore she never would.
The fan turned overhead. The lilac swayed. Silence stretched thin.
Rose blinked, the world catching up in scattered pieces. Claire had been there the whole time. Still here.
"Hi, C-Claire…" she managed, trying for her usual grin. It faltered. "Didn't think you'd wake up on me, but hey — morning. Geez, you scared the crap outta me."
A weak laugh followed, light, brittle at the edges. Her fingers brushed back her hair, but her hand shook halfway through and she pretended not to notice.
Claire shot up a little straighter, uncertainty written in every twitch of her fingers. She didn't know whether to reach out or stay back. Her wide eyes flickered over Rose's face, catching the strain under the grin.
"A-Are you okay? You're not—like, worse, right?" Claire's voice tumbled out, uneven, thick with panic she barely managed to contain.
Rose raised a hand, a small, shaky motion meant to calm. "I'm fine, Claire. Really."
Her voice cracked anyway.
She tried sitting up a little, wincing but brushing it off like she always did. "Just… a little banged up. Nothing I can't shake."
Claire's eyes dropped to Rose's shoulder, then flicked away. "I—I can get someone. A healer, or a medic, or—"
Her hands fidgeted with her sleeve, heart racing.
"Hey. Hey." Rose reached out, catching Claire's hand before it could retreat. Her fingers were cold, her smile still crooked, still trying. "I said I'm fine. Don't panic, okay? You're not getting rid of me that easy."
Claire swallowed hard, staring at their hands. Her voice shrank.
"But you're hurt."
"I've been worse," Rose teased softly, though there was a hollow note in it, like a line rehearsed too many times. "And you're not doing nothing, Claire. You… just being here's enough."
Another beat passed, the unspoken hanging heavy between them.
Claire hesitated — then, with a trembling sigh, eased back into her chair. The storm in her chest didn't calm, but she stayed. She forced a tiny, unsteady smile.
"Okay… but you better not get worse, capisce?"
Rose's grip tightened just a little, and for the first time since waking, the ache in her chest lightened. Not gone. But less.
"Capisce."
And for a moment, the fan turned, the lilac swayed, and neither of them let go.
Rose's gaze flicked to Claire. For a flicker of a moment, the brightness dimmed in her eyes. Something sharp and uncomfortable twisted in her chest. She hated this part — pretending. Especially with Claire.
But what else could she do?
With a quiet breath, she forced the grin back into place.
"So… how are you really feeling?" Claire asked at last, her voice soft, uncertain. It hovered in the space between them, weighed down by worry. Her wide eyes searched Rose's face like she was bracing for an answer she didn't want to hear.
Rose clapped her hands together, the sound a little too loud in the quiet room. "Like the unstoppable, amazing, practically invincible Rose you know and love, duh!" she declared, grinning wide. "Geez, Claire, you stress way too much!"
Claire frowned, wringing her hands before tugging at the edge of her cloak. "How could I not?" she muttered, voice tight. "You're—" Her throat caught, but she pushed through. "I saw it. You were—"
Rose cut her off with a cheeky grin, leaning in. "Ooh, someone's being dramatic. I'll heal faster if you stop scowling at me like that. It's a proven fact."
Claire opened her mouth, a sharp retort on her tongue, but froze as Rose tapped her nose with a soft, mischievous, "Boop."
The sound was small, ridiculous — and for the first time since waking, Claire blinked in surprise, color rushing to her cheeks. "H-Hey! What was that?!"
Without thinking, she reached out and pinched Rose's cheek in retaliation, a tiny smirk breaking through. "Serves you right."
"Ah—ow ow ow!" Rose yelped, laughing as she wriggled free. "Okay, okay, mercy! I give!"
Claire let her go with a huff, though her lips twitched at the corners. The weight in her chest eased, just a little.
For a moment, the fan spun, the lilac swayed, and the heaviness in the room thinned — not gone, but gentler. Neither of them spoke, and for once, it didn't feel like something was missing.
It was enough.
The room settled into a hush again, the only sound the lazy spin of the fan overhead and the soft rustle of the lilac's petals.
Claire fidgeted, her fingers tugging at the frayed edge of her sleeve. She opened her mouth, hesitated, then quietly asked, "Are you really okay, Rose?"
Her voice wasn't sharp, not accusing — just tired, and so full of worry it hurt to hear.
Rose's smile faltered. For a second she considered lying outright, the usual breezy "of course," but it caught in her throat. The way Claire looked at her — like she mattered too much — made it impossible.
"I… I'm okay," Rose said softly. "Better now. Promise."
Claire didn't look convinced. Her hands clenched in her lap, and her gaze drifted to the bandage on Rose's arm.
Rose let out a quiet breath, then lifted her hand, palm up. A faint shimmer of magic stirred at her fingertips. It wasn't much — just a soft flicker of light. A tiny lilac bloomed there, pale violet and fragile, its stem swaying with the faintest current from the overhead fan.
Her eyes briefly flicked to the flower in the vase nearby. Just for a moment. Then she smiled, smaller this time.
Without a word, Rose reached out, the lilac resting delicately between her fingers. Her hand moved slowly, the space between them narrowing with a kind of hesitant grace, as though the air itself might shatter if she moved too fast. A stray lock of Claire's yellow hair had fallen across her cheek, and Rose brushed it aside with a touch so light it felt more like a passing thought than contact.
The flower came to rest just above Claire's ear, its cool petals grazing her skin. A breath hitched in Claire's throat. She didn't flinch — only stilled, as if the world had pressed pause.
Her hand rose, unsure at first, fingers brushing over the tiny bloom. It was real. Soft. Fragrant. A pale, quiet thing that somehow felt heavier than it looked.
The silence between them stretched, not awkward, not cold — but thick with words neither of them quite knew how to say. The fan turned lazily overhead. The faint scent of lilac drifted in the air.
"You don't have to… pretend for me," Claire whispered, her voice uneven. "Capisce?"
Rose's grin lingered, but it was thinner now, frayed at the edges. She let her hand linger by Claire's for a second too long. "I'm not pretending," she murmured. "Well… maybe a little." A shallow laugh. "Old habits."
Neither of them spoke for a while after that. The fan spun overhead. The lilac's faint scent curled through the air.
"Thanks for staying," Rose said quietly, not looking up.
Claire's hand tightened around her cloak, but her voice came steady. "I always will, capisce?"
And for a moment, the weight in the room eased — not gone, not forgiven, but something softer, almost bearable.
Rose noticed Claire's far-off stare and tilted her head, a small, lopsided smile playing at her lips. "Hey… you're spacing out again," she teased, pressing a finger to her chin like she was trying to solve some silly riddle.
Claire startled, color rushing to her cheeks as she dropped her gaze. "S-sorry! I didn't mean—I mean, I wasn't—uh…" The words tumbled over each other until they faded into an embarrassed mumble.
Rose leaned in a little, the teasing edge softening from her grin. "It's fine, Claire. Really." She tilted her head again, brows quirking. "What did happen, though? Hm…" She tapped a finger against her temple. "Honestly… I dunno." A shrug followed, light and casual — though the flicker in her eyes betrayed the lie. "Maybe it was an Akumo or something? The whole thing's kind of a blur."
Claire's face fell slightly. "O-oh… so much for that," she murmured, voice barely above a whisper as she fidgeted with the edge of her sleeve, trying not to show the way her shoulders tightened.
Rose caught it. The tremor in Claire's hands, the faint wobble in her forced smile. It was like watching someone try to hold up a glass wall already splintering.
So, she nudged Claire's shoulder with a grin, playful and bright as ever. "Oi, don't go all gloomy on me, capisce? I'm still here, aren't I?"
A tiny smile tugged at Claire's lips despite herself. "Y-yeah… you are."
But the tremor in her hands didn't stop.
Rose noticed, of course. She always did. And she made a quiet, stubborn decision not to mention the pieces of memory sharp enough to cut. If Claire knew, she'd worry more. She'd run headfirst into things she had no business fighting — and Rose wasn't about to let that happen.
So instead, she stretched her arms overhead with exaggerated laziness. "Sooo… how'd you even get here anyway? Skipping class on day two? Tsk, tsk. Bad girl, Claire."
Claire blinked, caught off-guard by the sudden shift. "O-oh! Uh… Miss Ann let me. I—I asked if I could stay… and she said it was okay," she murmured, her voice softer but steadier this time.
Rose lifted a brow, impressed despite herself. "Huh. The big boss herself? Look at you pulling strings."
A faint grin crept onto Claire's face, her voice growing a little brighter. "S-she was nice about it… she even said you'd heal up completely soon… because of her magic."
For a beat, something eased in Rose's chest. She let out a dramatic sigh, leaning back against the pillow. "Hah… okay, okay. That sure wasn't on my bingo card but what the heck, life's full of surprises." She shot Claire a wink, masking the swirl of guilt beneath the grin.
Claire's lips tugged upward at Rose's antics, the familiar whine tugging at something softer, older, buried deeper than she realized. For a moment, the room around her dulled. The quiet hum of the fan, the pale scent of lilac — all of it faded into the background, replaced by sunlight and scattered voices.
Grass beneath her feet. Warm, dry wind. Hedges taller than she was, rustling softly.
She remembered chasing. Laughter carried high into the blue. A blur of white hair darting ahead, a flash of gold lagging behind.
"Claire! Slow down!"
A breathless, whining plea, small legs scrambling to keep up. Claire had glanced over her shoulder, grinning wide, feet pounding over stone and earth.
"Catch me if you can!" she'd called, the words light and careless.
And then the sound — a sharp stumble, a soft cry. Rose's voice breaking as her body hit the path, a scrape of skin on stone.
Claire's steps faltered. The world seemed to still in the way it only does when you're young and suddenly scared. She remembered the way Rose clutched her knee, the slow bloom of red against pale skin, and those wide, watering eyes.
"I'll— I'll be right back!" Claire's voice had cracked. Small feet pivoting, darting away. Somewhere, maids called after her, but she only registered the panic in her chest.
By the time she returned — too quickly, not quickly enough — she clutched a roll of bandages awkwardly in both hands. Two maids trailed behind, but Claire dropped to her knees beside Rose first. Tiny fingers unrolled the fabric, fumbling but determined.
"You're gonna be okay," Claire had said, though her own hands shook. The fear she felt didn't touch her voice.
"You promise?" Rose's voice was a fragile thing. Sniffling, wet-cheeked.
"P-promise." A pinky lifted, hesitant but steady. "This means I won't break it."
Rose had stared at the offered finger like it was a foreign object, then, slowly, hooked hers around it.
Neither of them had said much after that. The bandage was clumsy, the maids quietly watching, but Claire finished it. She remembered the faint scent of sun-warmed grass, the distant call of birds.
And now—
The memory eased away like mist at dawn, and the present settled back in.
Rose was pouting about the slow healing spell, throwing her hands up in mock exasperation. Claire's gaze softened, a quiet warmth threading through the worry still lodged in her chest.
Some things, she supposed, didn't change.
Rose might've grown stronger, louder, braver—but to Claire, she would always be that same girl. The one who needed her quiet reassurances. The one she still watched over in silence, with a promise unspoken but never forgotten.
By around two in the afternoon on September 11, 958 S.E., the first drops of rain began to fall.
It started gently—a soft, tentative tapping against the roof tiles, like the sky itself was hesitating. Then, a wind rolled in, slipping past the cracked windows, curling through the clinic's white walls like a sigh. The sky dimmed, turning from pale grey to an inky, brooding blue.
Claire and Rose both turned their heads, drawn by the rhythmic streaking of water on the glass panes. Raindrops trickled down in long lines before colliding and bleeding into each other—tiny rivers that made the outside world blur into motionless color. The day, which had been dry and warm earlier, now wore the scent of wet soil and the quiet stillness of waiting.
The chill in the air had deepened. Claire sat still, her eyes tracing the path of a drop that slid slowly, almost hesitantly, down the corner of the window. Rose shifted beside her, wrapping her arms around her torso in a subtle movement—one she hoped Claire wouldn't notice. But Claire always did.
The healing spell had mended the cuts and bruises, but magic couldn't warm a body like a blanket could, and Rose's small shiver didn't go unnoticed. She hugged herself a little tighter.
The room, once filled with low murmurs and hurried footsteps, had fallen nearly silent. Most of the students had long been escorted back to their quarters. Only Claire and Rose remained.
Their hair caught the dim light—bright yellow and soft pink, like mismatched threads pulled through the same storm. The breeze played with the ends, lifting strands gently before letting them fall again, brushing their cheeks, their shoulders.
Neither of them spoke for a while. There was nothing urgent left to say. Just the steady breathing between them, the hush of rain, and the quiet promise that hadn't faded with time.
Claire blinked slowly, the window's reflection catching a soft glint in her eyes. Even now, even here, her gaze stayed on Rose—not with worry, not with fear, but with something steadier. Something like memory. Something like love.
Noticing Rose's subtle shivering, Claire paused, her hand halfway into her bag. Her brows drew together in quiet concern. A moment later, she pulled out a soft pink sweater, the kind that looked impossibly warm—and impossibly cute, with a cartoonish bunny stitched on the front.
Claire's cheeks flushed as she held it up beside her face, tilting her head in that shy, unsure way of hers, as if bracing for a reaction.
Rose blinked. "Uh... w-what is that?" she asked, startled. Her eyes flicked between the sweater and Claire, confused—and already blushing.
Claire's fingers fidgeted slightly, but she managed a small, earnest grin. "It's a sweater. Obviously," she said, voice cracking with quiet pride. "I, um… made it a while ago. And you're gonna wear it."
"Ehh…?" Rose squeaked, her voice rising in pitch. She turned quickly toward the window, pretending to look disinterested—though the corners of her mouth betrayed her.
Claire inched closer, stretching out her arms with exaggerated flair. "Oh, come on! I know you wanna wear this, capisce?"
Rose scoffed lightly, still facing the window. "What makes you think that?"
Claire smiled, voice softer now. "The window's kinda giving you away your smile."
Rose froze. Her head snapped back toward Claire, eyes wide. "Wha—?! N-no, I—" she started, but her protest fizzled when she met Claire's eyes.
And that sweater. That ridiculous sweater.
Her lips twitched. Then, with a dramatic groan, she tossed her hands in the air. "Ugh! Fine, you win! You know me too well, Claire, it's unfair!"
Claire giggled, relieved, and gently placed the sweater in Rose's lap.
Rose's grin widened. "But if I'm gonna wear this, you better not laugh when I start lookin' cute, got it?"
"Deal," Claire whispered, the warmth in her voice more than enough.
Without hesitation, Rose snatched up the sweater, her excitement catching Claire off guard and making her release it a bit too quickly. But Rose was already grinning as she slipped it on in one swift motion. The pink fabric hugged her snugly, and she gave a playful twirl, clearly enjoying the fit.
Claire smiled, a little nervous again, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. She stood up and offered her hand, her tone soft but nudging. "W-well… let's go. We should probably head to your dorm now, capisce?"
Rose froze mid-spin and immediately pouted, folding her arms. "Why? It's perfectly fine here!" she whined, her voice edging into a playful protest.
Claire tilted her head, placing her hands on her hips with mock sternness. "We can't stay here all day, can we?" she said softly—but there was a note of quiet insistence beneath her words.
"Geez, fine…" Rose sighed, dragging the word out in exaggerated defeat. Still, she reached for Claire's hand, fingers wrapping around it as she tried to stand.
But the moment her feet met the floor, a tremble rippled through her legs and hands.
Claire's eyes widened. Without thinking, she stepped forward, quickly slipping an arm around Rose's waist to steady her. "H-hey, b-be careful!" she stammered, voice sharp with concern.
"I'm fine… really," Rose mumbled, offering a weak smile—though the flush on her cheeks betrayed her embarrassment.
Claire didn't let go. She adjusted her grip slightly, helping Rose find her balance. Even if the healing spell had mended her wounds, two days in bed had clearly taken their toll.
Once she was sure Rose could manage small steps, Claire adjusted their footing and guided her forward. At the sliding door, Claire used her free hand to push it open, and together, they stepped out of the clinic. She nudged the door shut behind them with the tip of her left foot, the soft click echoing in the otherwise quiet hallway.
Outside, the rain kept its steady rhythm, falling at a gentle but persistent pace. A cool breeze curled around them, tugging lightly at their clothes and hair. Claire paused for a moment, glancing up at the overcast sky before scanning the hallway ahead. They passed several rooms—offices, lounges, and libraries—each one closed, silent, and still.
The absence of other students confirmed what Claire had already suspected: classes were still in session.
"It's afternoon, after all..." she thought with a quiet sigh. The empty corridors, paired with the muffled patter of rain, gave the academy an almost serene, dreamlike quality.
With Rose leaning on her, Claire took the lead down the long, quiet hallway. Their steps were slow and measured — Rose's weight subtly shifting against her, though the taller girl kept up a bright smile like she wasn't dizzy at all.
They took the elevator in silence. When they reached Rose's dorm, Claire paused as Rose fumbled with the key, missing the hole once before finally sliding it in. She pushed the door open to her empty room — no roommate, no noise, just the hum of rain against the window.
Claire helped her inside and gently eased her toward the bed. Her arms strained more than she expected, and a faint blush rose to her cheeks.
"H-here we are... careful," she muttered, her fingers trembling slightly as she helped Rose sit down.
Rose flopped onto the bed with a dramatic sigh and raised an eyebrow. "Geez, you make it sound like I'm some kind of boulder," she teased, a grin tugging at her lips. Her voice was light, but there was a faint wobble to it — barely noticeable unless you were really listening.
Claire flushed a deeper red and shook her head fast. "N-no! I mean — you're not… heavy to carry or anything, just—" She gestured vaguely, fingers fluttering like they might find better words midair. "Just kind of… uncooperative?"
Rose leaned back on her elbows, brow raised. "Uncooperative how?"
Claire glanced away, panicked. "No! N-no! T-that's not what I meant!"
"Oh? So what did you mean, then?" Rose tilted her head, feigning curiosity with a smirk that didn't quite hide how tired she looked.
"I don't know!" Claire groaned. "It's just kind of a hassle, capisce? You were being weirdly stubborn and limping like you'd just lost a boss fight with gravity. I would've waited if you wanted to sit down."
"Okay, wow," Rose chuckled, brushing dust off her sleeve. "I get wrecked once and suddenly you're acting like I've been through five rounds with a garbage disposal."
Claire side-eyed her. "W-well… your walk looked like someone sleep-deprived trying to hold in a sneeze. Not exactly new behavior for you."
"That's the aesthetic," Rose said with a wink. "Mysterious. Powerful. Mildly concerning."
Claire blinked. "Right. And when you pass out mid-mystery, do I call the nurse again or just clap sarcastically?"
"Clap. Slow and dramatic. Maybe shed a single tear for effect."
"You're exhausting."
"And yet you're still here," Rose said, stretching like her limbs weren't threatening to give out. "That's gotta mean something."
"P-pretty sure it's just pity. But fine, let's pretend it's your… charisma."
"See? Still standing. Absolute specimen." Rose took a step and wobbled slightly.
"If 'absolute specimen' means 'one breeze away from face-planting,' then yeah. Sure. Nailed it."
Claire let out a breath she didn't know she was holding, her shoulders finally relaxing. A faint smile curved her lips—not smug, not teasing. Just... there. Real. She glanced around the room, her gaze lingering on the untouched suitcases and the barren shelves.
"You didn't unpack?" she asked, voice softer now, not prying—just observing.
Rose, still perched on the bed, gave a lazy shrug. "Well... no roommate, no deadline. I kinda just forgot I live here."
Claire laughed under her breath, a quiet puff of sound as she stepped toward the bags. "O-okay. I'll, um... I'll help."
Before Rose could respond, Claire was already unzipping the first bag, carefully pulling out clothes, notebooks, a half-squashed plush keychain that made her pause for half a second before continuing. She moved from the bags to the shelves and back again, placing things with a strange kind of reverence—neither fast nor fussy, but like each item deserved a proper spot.
Rose didn't stop her. Just watched. Her elbow resting on her knee, chin propped lazily on her hand, eyes soft.
The silence between them wasn't awkward—it never was, not really. There was just the quiet shuffle of movement, the gentle rhythm of breathing, the low hum of the rain outside.
Claire didn't speak, and she didn't need to. Something about helping like this, in this moment, just made sense.
It didn't have to be perfect.
It just had to be them.
"So," Rose began lightly, twirling a strand of hair around her finger, "how'd yesterday go? Y'know—besides me getting powerbombed by fate."
Claire hesitated, folding a shirt a little too precisely. "We kinda ran into… trouble." Her voice barely rose above the rustle of fabric.
"Trouble like, ow my pride? Or trouble like actual danger?" Rose raised a brow. The joke was there, but muted—curious.
Claire kept her eyes on the drawer. "Big akumo. Black. Showed up like it had a vendetta. Three of us were down before I even blinked."
Rose blinked back. "Sheesh. And here I was thinking I was being dramatic."
Claire's hands stayed busy—shirts, books, one sock with an anime character on it she tucked under a pillow, maybe out of shame. "I had a plan. Formation. Timed it. Accounted for movement and terrain."
"Lemme guess: didn't matter?"
Claire gave a dry half-laugh. "Didn't matter. Thing cut through it like it read my notes and said 'cute.'"
There was a pause.
"That sucks." No teasing. Just that—plain, simple, true.
Claire gave a nod so small it was barely more than a twitch.
Then, suddenly: "Ran into Takumi, too. He was with some girl. Blue hair. Didn't catch her name." She frowned. "Which is dumb. I should've... I dunno. Asked."
Rose gave her a side-eye smirk. "I wouldn't call that dumb. That's called progress, you beautiful, socially incompetent butterfly."
Claire flushed. "Wouldn't call it progeess… more like accidental proximity."
"Still counts." Rose gave a mock-salute. "Next mission: eye contact and a full sentence. We believe in you."
Claire rolled her eyes but didn't deny it. "I'm working on it."
"Um... so, apparently," she began, her words slightly uneven, "the thing that attacked us? Yeah—it, uh, wasn't even supposed to be there."
Rose tilted her head, her expression shifting to surprise. "Wait—what? What do you mean wasn't supposed to be there? Like it got lost?" she asked, her voice laced with curiosity and concern.
Claire fidgeted, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she continued. "No, like... someone summoned it. Like, on purpose. With a spell. A really bad one. A 'let's-ruin-everyone's-day' kind of spell."
"Seriously? Someone called it in?"
"Y-yeah. We only found out after. Staff told us it wasn't random at all. The spell was, like... ridiculously strong. And because the Starfield's underground, that means the caster had to be inside."
Rose's eyes widened, her mouth parting slightly in shock. "Inside? Like... student or teacher-level inside?" she exclaimed, leaning forward slightly. "Who would do something like that?"
Claire swallowed hard, her fingers tightening around the hanger she was holding. "Yup. Full access pass kind of inside." glances awkwardly at her "And, um… there's this theory now."
"Oh boy. I love theories. They're like bedtime stories, but more stressful."
"They think it might be the same Akumo that attacked you. Like—that one." she admitted, her tone growing softer.
Rose froze, her breath catching as her thoughts raced. She bit her lip, choosing to keep her suspicions to herself. The rhythmic patter of rain against the glass door seemed to echo the tension in the room. Claire shifted uncomfortably, sensing the weight of her own words as she returned to unpacking.
"…Okay. Wow. That's—cool. Cool-cool-cool. Totally not freaking out," Rose said, her tone riding the line between sarcasm and nervous laughter. "But… wait. Who stopped it? Miss Ann?"
Claire paused, her hands stilling as she glanced over her shoulder. "No… it wasn't her," she said softly. "It was… my roommate. Kazuki."
Rose's jaw dropped. She blinked once, then pointed at Claire like she needed confirmation. "Kazuki? Your Kazuki? Tall. Quiet. 'Stares-into-your-soul' Kazuki?"
Claire winced, the pink on her cheeks deepening. "Y-yeah. That's him."
Rose sat back, clearly processing. "Okay. Huh. He really took it down? Like, by himself?"
Claire gave a small nod. "Didn't even pause. He got hit, hard. But he just… got up. And kept going. Like it was nothing." Her voice trailed off, the weight of the memory still lingering.
Rose let out a low whistle. "That's kinda insane. Impressive, but still—insane."
She leaned back, giving a crooked smile. "You should probably tell him to dial it back next time. Some of us are still trying to survive warm-ups, y'know?"
Claire's gaze drifted to the rain-speckled glass. Her thoughts tangled, questions pooling quietly beneath the noise: Why does he keep showing up? How can someone be that... unshakable?
The rhythmic tapping of the rain against the door pulled her deeper into her haze—until Rose's excited squeal snapped her back like a slap of cold water.
"Wait—hold up. He saved you again?!"
Rose practically launched forward on the bed, eyes shining. "Dude's on a roll. What is he, your emotionally distant bodyguard?"
"Wh—what?! No! He's not anything!" Claire blurted, cheeks flushing as she spun to face her.
"I mean—he barely even talks to me! Most of the time I'm just... background noise to him."
Her fingers found the frayed edge of her cloak and fidgeted there. Her voice softened, almost disappearing as her eyes lowered. "Not that he'd notice."
Rose's grin widened. "Aww. Background noise with feelings."
She elbowed her teasing in, light and easy. "Maybe he's just allergic to eye contact. You never know."
She winked. Claire turned away with a huff, her ears tinged pink.
"I—"
Claire paused, arms folding across her chest. When she finally spoke, her tone was dry, deadpan.
"Y-yeah. T-that's totally it."
Rose clutched her chest in mock betrayal. "You're no fun, Claire," she groaned. "Let me have my romance novel moment, okay?"
"It's not a romance novel."
"Sure it's not. And I totally didn't see you blushing when you brought him up—"
"I—I wasn't blushing! My face just does that sometimes!"
"Right. Heatstroke. From how hot the moment was."
"I hate you."
"You say that, but you're still standing here."
Rose waved lazily, a smug grin curling on her face.
"I was literally just about to leave."
Claire groaned, dragging a hand down her face before marching toward the door.
"Mmhm. Go ahead. Run away from your feelings."
"I'm running away from you."
"Same difference."
"Tell Kazuki I said hi!" Rose called behind her, laughter trailing after Claire's dramatic exit.
"SHUT UP!" came the muffled reply, just before the door clicked closed.
Outside, Claire leaned against the door, letting the cool wood press into her back.
The rain had quieted to a whisper, its soft patter lingering on the tiles. Wind tugged gently at her long yellow hair, brushing it against her face. Her cheeks still carried the warmth of laughter—but beneath it, something heavier pulsed.
She glanced at her hand. It trembled faintly.
The image of Rose lying still—pale, barely breathing—flashed through her mind, jarring in its stillness.
That version of Rose was too quiet, too unlike her. Claire's heart clenched. She clutched her shirt tightly, right over where it hurt most.
He's always the one who shows up, she thought.
The one who keeps everyone from falling apart. The one who just… doesn't break.
Her eyes lowered, the weight pressing down again. A part of her wanted to scream. A louder part didn't know what to say at all.
She let her head fall forward, her bangs shielding her face.
"...So why do I even try?"
The words escaped before she could catch them, barely a whisper.
But as they hung in the air, something stubborn sparked beneath them—quiet, but present.
She stood still for a long moment. Then she exhaled, slow and shaky.
"...No."
Her fingers curled tighter.
Even if her voice cracked, even if her steps wavered—
"I'll try again tomorrow."