Sayuri Misaki
I can feel it.
The shift.
Like the air right before rain—the heaviness that clings to your skin and makes you certain thunder is coming.
Kaori hasn't said anything to me directly in two days.
No sharp whispers in the hallway. No sugar-coated insults dropped like poison.
But silence from her isn't safety.
It's warning.
At lunch, her laughter rings louder than it needs to. Her circle crowds tighter around her. And though she doesn't look at me… I feel her orbit pressing closer.
Like she's waiting for me to stumble.
Like she's saving her strike for the moment it matters most.
I sit under the tree again, notebook open on my lap, pen idle. I don't write. I just breathe.
Trying not to think about when the next crack will come.
Trying not to think about Souta watching from across the courtyard.
But I do.
When I finally glance up, his eyes meet mine.
Just for a second.
But it's enough.
Souta Ren
Something's wrong.
Not with Sayuri—not exactly. She's steady in a way I haven't seen before. Her chin lifts when people glance her way. She doesn't curl into herself like she used to.
But Kaori—Kaori is too quiet.
I've known her long enough to recognize the pattern. She never holds her tongue unless she's sharpening it for later.
And the way she looks at me—smiling too brightly, brushing my sleeve, lingering in my space—feels less like affection and more like a performance.
For who? For me? For everyone else? For Sayuri?
I don't know.
But I don't trust it.
After class, I find Sayuri by the shoe lockers. She's bent slightly, fingers brushing her laces, hair falling like a curtain around her face.
"Hey," I say.
She looks up. This time she doesn't startle. Doesn't look away.
Her eyes are steady, even when her voice isn't.
"She's planning something."
It isn't a question.
"I know."
I don't lie. I don't soften it.
Because the truth is, Kaori doesn't stop. Not until she wins. And this time, I don't even know what winning looks like for her.
Sayuri ties her shoes slowly. Her hands shake once, just barely. But then she straightens.
"I won't break again," she says quietly.
And it hits me—she means it.
Even if her voice trembles, even if her knees want to buckle, she means every word.
I nod once. "Then I'll stand with you."
Her eyes widen slightly, like she didn't expect me to say it aloud. Like she's still learning how to believe she doesn't have to fight alone.
But when she exhales, the corner of her mouth lifts. Not a smile. Not yet. But something close.
Sayuri Misaki
We walk out of school together.
Not touching. Not talking much. Just side by side.
It feels strange.
It feels safe.
And even though I can feel Kaori's gaze on our backs from across the courtyard, I keep walking.
Because for once, I'm not just bracing for the storm.
I'm ready to face it.