Mike and Nira got home not long after Kruel had gone his own way. The sun was dipping lower, casting gold streaks across the driveway and parked right in it was a familiar black car.
Mike stopped walking. "Dad's home," he said, frowning. "That's… weird."
His dad almost never got home this early on a weekday. Usually, by the time he returned, the house was dark and everyone was already halfway asleep. Mike squinted at the car like it might disappear if he blinked.
"Maybe he's on leave or something," he muttered to himself, though it didn't sound convincing even to his own ears.
Nira didn't respond. She just brushed past him, went straight inside, and up the stairs like she owned the place. A few moments later, heavy bass thumped from behind her door. No lyrics, just relentless, pulsing beats that seemed designed to rattle through walls and nerves.
Mike groaned. "Of course."
He kicked off his shoes, dumped his bag by the couch, and trudged to his room. His laptop was still on his desk, lid half open, like it had been waiting for him all day. He sat down, cracked his knuckles, and booted up the game he'd paused yesterday when his mom had forced him to go to bed.
The leaderboard loaded...and his jaw dropped.
"Rank eight?!" he blurted. "What the - how?!"
He refreshed. Waited. Refreshed again.
Still the same ugly red message at the top of the screen:
MISSED MATCH. RANK 8.
"They went on without me," Mike said, voice rising. "I told them to hold off. Just one day!"
Frustration surged. He slammed his mouse down and jumped into a new match. The familiar sounds of gunfire and chaotic music filled his headphones as teammates logged in one by one. Soon, he was caught up in the action, shouting callouts, forgetting the house, forgetting the world.
Too loud. He didn't even realize how loud he was being until his door cracked open and Nira's head poked in.
"Lower it," she said flatly, then vanished.
He rolled his eyes, kept playing.
Five minutes later, she appeared again. "Too loud."
"Yeah, yeah," Mike muttered, barely glancing up.
Third warning came ten minutes after that, her expression sharper now. "Seriously. Lower it."
"Fine," he said, fingers flying over the keys, not lowering anything.
The fourth time, she didn't say a word. She just walked in, yanked the cord from the wall, and the screen went black mid-match.
"NOOOO!" Mike screamed, spinning around in his chair. "You...why would you do that?! At least let me save it!"
"I warned you," Nira said simply. Then she turned and left, music already echoing again from her room seconds later.
Mike sat there in stunned silence for a full five seconds, then dragged his hands down his face. He stood, muttering under his breath, and wandered out toward the kitchen for something to eat.
He passed his dad's study on the way.
The door was cracked open. The warm desk lamp glow spilled out, cutting a sharp wedge across the floorboards. Mike slowed when he heard the low murmur of his dad's voice inside. He was on the phone.
Mike didn't mean to listen. He really didn't. He was about to keep walking when he caught a word that made him freeze mid-step.
"…Kruel."
His heart stuttered.
He stopped, easing back a step until he was just outside the doorway. He crouched, breath held, listening harder.
".....That's not the point," his dad was saying quietly, but firmly. "He almost killed someone. It's a good thing he hasn't been triggered yet."
Mike's blood ran cold.Almost… killed someone?
His dad's tone sharpened, low and fast: "And tell those guys to leave Mike out of this. He had his nose broken. Let them just do what they're supposed to—and let him be."
He knows about the bullies? Mike thought. It's gotta be them....right?
Inside, his father continued: "They don't understand how dangerous that kid is. All we need to do is find his weakness—and the other one on himself. Keep your voice down about it. Before he gets triggered."
Mike's head spun.Triggered? Weakness? Dangerous?
This was about Kruel. It had to be.And yet, it didn't make sense. Kruel was quiet, weird maybe, but not… dangerous.
A tap on his shoulder made him flinch so hard he nearly fell over.
He whipped around. Nira stood there, arms crossed. "Eavesdropping, are we?"
"I wasn't-" Mike scrambled up, whispering fiercely. "I just heard… Kruel's name."
Her expression flickered, just briefly. "Who's Kurt?" she said, all false innocence. "I only know Kruel."
"Why you-" Mike cut himself off, scowling.
They slipped into his room. He shut the door behind them like he was sealing off a crime scene.
"So," Nira said finally, leaning on his desk, "what exactly did he say?"
"Something about being… triggered," Mike muttered. He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to piece it together. "And also that he almost killed someone. But Kruel's never hurt anyone. Not once. If anyone, it'd be me, right?"
Nira just tilted her head, thoughtful. She wasn't smirking now.
"Do you think it's true?" she asked quietly after a long pause.
"What do you mean do I think it's true?!" Mike said, his voice spiking before he could stop it. "No! Obviously not!"
"It's a question," she shot back, matching his tone.
Mike groaned and dragged his hands through his hair. "I don't know, okay? It just… doesn't sound like him."
"People are full of surprises," she murmured.
"You're not much help," he muttered, sinking into his chair. He stared at nothing, chewing the inside of his cheek. "He also said those guys should leave me out of it. The bullies. Who else could he be talking about?"
"Maybe," Nira said. He looked at her sharply.
She just shrugged. "Why don't you ask him?"
"Who, Kruel or Dad?"
She only raised an eyebrow.
"Which of them?!" Mike snapped.
"Both," she said coolly, then added, "Also… you really need to work on your temper."
Mike threw his arms up. "I'll ask Kruel. Not Dad."
He stood, grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair, and shoved his arms into it. He stomped out, but not before snagging a banana from the kitchen counter.
He was halfway through the first bite when footsteps followed him down the stairs.
Nira. Also wearing a jacket.
"I'm coming with you," she said simply.
He didn't argue. Honestly, he was glad. Not that he'd ever admit it out loud, but he was really happy she was coming along because he would -alone- be an easy target for loitering groups or gangs. Having Nira nearby meant fewer bruises for him.
Kruel's house was only a few blocks away. Soon, they were standing on his front step.
The door opened, and Kate blinked at them.
"The dinner's tomorrow," she said, confused. Her gaze drifted from Mike to Nira, lingering a second longer than necessary. Then she smiled. "So… you have a girlfriend now?"
"Ew...no," Mike blurted. His ears burned. He barreled past her into the hallway. "Where's Kruel?"
Nira followed silently.
They went upstairs, straight to Kruel's room. Mike knocked. Waited. Knocked harder.
Nothing.
Kate had followed them up. "He's not home," she said simply.
"What do you mean he's not home?" Mike demanded, spinning on her. "Where'd he go?"
"He never came," she replied, unfazed. "He usually doesn't come back this early. He probably has extra art lessons or went to the hospital. Our dad's leaving tomorrow, he might be helping Mom with something."
"That's not..." Mike stopped, caught between confusion and panic. "You're not worried?"
She tilted her head. "No."
"Call him."
Mike fumbled his phone from his pocket and dialed. The line rang. And rang.Then:Call Failed.
He lowered the phone slowly, a pit growing in his stomach. "It's a big city," he muttered. "He could be anywhere."
But the words rang hollow.
He stared down the hallway toward the empty room, unease creeping cold and sharp into his chest.They had left him right there on the street just an hour ago.