The river station at night was quiet… too quiet. The neon lights reflected on the water, trembling with each ripple, painting the concrete with streaks of red and blue. Miyuki stood near the ticket booth, her coat hugging her thin frame, her fingers clutching a small sketchbook she didn't remember opening.
Something didn't feel right. She had been walking home after a late study session, thinking about nothing in particular, when a sudden chill made her stop. The street behind her was empty… and then she heard the faint echo of footsteps, too many to be ordinary.
Her heart thudded. She wanted to run, but her legs froze, heavy and unwilling. And then a voice, low and sharp, cut through the silence.
"You're far from home, little one."
Miyuki's stomach dropped. The shadowed figures stepped closer, jackets marked with a red serpent coiled around a clock hand. Reiji's gang.
---
High above, Haruya crouched on the roof of a nearby warehouse, his eyes fixed on the scene below. The sketchbook was open in his hands, drawings sprawled across the pages like a map of fate.
"Right here…" he muttered, tracing a finger over the outline of the station. His pulse raced. "She's here… and they're too many."
Kaito appeared beside him, steady and sharp. "Too many? We've handled worse."
Haruya shook his head. "Not like this. She's in the middle. If one of them touches her… I don't know what I'd do."
Kaito smirked, but there was worry in his eyes. "You'd cry, most likely. And then fight like a maniac."
Haruya rolled his eyes, but a grin tugged at his lips anyway. "Yeah, probably. But first, I have to get her out safely."
The pencil in his hand trembled as he traced the lines of the station one more time. Each stroke glowed faintly, the drawing alive. He pressed his palm down, and for a heartbeat, everything around him shimmered, like the world was made of water.
---
Below, Reiji's men closed in. Miyuki's breath came fast, her legs finally moving as she tried to step back, but one of the men grabbed her coat.
"Hey!" Haruya shouted from above, leaping from the roof with the agility of someone who had danced with death before.
Kaito and Daichi followed, landing on the ground with soft thuds. The fight began instantly.
Haruya moved like wind and water, dodging and pushing, his laughter strangely bright even as fists flew past. He hit one thug with a swift kick, sending him sprawling into a stack of crates.
Kaito was precise and brutal, his eyes sharp, fists cutting through the dark. Daichi moved like a shadow, calm but deadly, disarming and protecting with every step.
Miyuki's eyes widened. She had never seen anything like this—three boys moving in perfect rhythm, fighting chaos with a strange elegance, a strange smile on one of their faces.
Haruya's grin never left. "You really thought they could touch her?" he teased, flicking a bat away with his foot. "Cute, but wrong."
Kaito groaned. "I swear, sometimes you're insane."
"Maybe," Haruya said, ducking a swing, "but I'm your insane."
---
The fight spilled across the platform, echoes bouncing off the walls, metal clashing with metal, voices shouting, curses flying. And all the while, Miyuki stayed in the middle, too stunned to move, too terrified to run.
Then Haruya noticed something strange. One of the men had grabbed her sketchbook. The pages were glowing faintly, the lines moving almost like they were breathing.
"No!" he yelled, diving forward, catching the book before it could fall.
Miyuki blinked, confused. "What… what is this?"
"It's not safe for you to know yet," Haruya said, holding her sketchbook close. "But I promise… I'll keep you safe. No one will hurt you."
Her eyes softened, a small trust forming even as her fear remained. There was something in Haruya's gaze she couldn't explain—a weight, a promise, a strange familiarity.