The night air in the city felt colder than usual, like the wind carried whispers that were not meant for normal people to hear, and as Haruya and Kaito walked down the dimly lit street after parting from the others, their footsteps echoed strangely against the concrete walls, as if the alley itself was alive, waiting for something to happen.
Kaito kept his hands deep inside his pockets, eyes half-open like he was not paying much attention, but his thoughts were running fast, because the image of that mysterious girl with long dark hair and unreadable eyes refused to leave his mind, and he could not understand why she looked at him the way she did, as if she knew something about him, something he did not know himself.
Haruya, on the other hand, was humming some silly tune, skipping slightly as if nothing had happened, like he did not just see a girl appear out of nowhere and vanish as if the air itself had swallowed her, and his careless grin made Kaito frown.
"You don't look bothered," Kaito said, his voice sharp, though he kept it low because the street was too empty and too quiet.
"Why should I be?" Haruya laughed softly, swinging his bag over his shoulder, "She's just a girl, right? Cute too, I'd say. Maybe you found your type."
Kaito stopped walking for a second, glaring at him, "You think this is a joke? Did you not feel that? That pressure in the air, like we weren't supposed to see her?"
Haruya tilted his head, scratching the back of his neck, and shrugged, "Yeah, I felt something weird, but come on, Kaito, if we keep acting scared every time something strange happens, we'll lose our minds. Better to laugh, don't you think?"
That was Haruya, always choosing to smile even when the world around him was falling apart, and maybe that was the reason Kaito stayed by his side all these years, because in that smile, he found something grounding, something human.
As they continued, the shadows around them stretched strangely long, bending as if trying to reach them, and Kaito could not stop his hand from tightening around the strap of his bag, ready in case something—or someone—jumped out.
Then, without warning, a voice came from the corner of the alley, soft yet clear, "You shouldn't be here."
Both of them froze, turning their heads at the same time.
There she was again.
The girl.
Standing under the broken streetlight, her hair swaying gently though there was no wind, her eyes deep, holding the weight of a thousand unspoken words, and for a second, the silence between them felt like an endless ocean where even breathing was too loud.
Haruya let out a small chuckle, raising his hand in a casual wave, "Well, hello again. Didn't expect to meet so soon. You following us, mysterious girl?"
She didn't reply. Instead, she stepped closer, her gaze fixed only on Kaito, ignoring Haruya completely, and her lips parted slowly as if speaking cost her effort, "You don't remember me, do you?"
Kaito's chest tightened. His brows furrowed as he stared back, searching his memory desperately, but nothing came, no face, no name, just a deep emptiness that frustrated him. "Who are you?" he demanded.
The girl tilted her head slightly, almost sadly, and whispered, "Someone who remembers you."
Haruya, sensing the tension, stepped in between them with a grin, "Ooh, this is getting interesting. Kaito, looks like you got yourself a secret admirer. Should I leave you two alone?"
Kaito shoved him lightly, annoyed, "Shut up, Haruya. This isn't funny."
But before Kaito could ask more, a noise broke the moment.
From deeper inside the alley, heavy footsteps, slow but echoing, and then shadows began to shift, forming shapes of men with metal pipes and chains in their hands, eyes glowing faintly under the dim light.
Gang members.
At least eight of them.
Haruya clicked his tongue, his playful expression changing into something sharper, though he still smirked, "Guess we got company. Your fans keep increasing, Kaito."
Kaito clenched his fists, his heart racing, not just because of the gang, but because when he turned back to look at the girl—she was gone.
Vanished.
As if she was never there.
The gang leader, a tall man with a scar running down his cheek, stepped forward, his voice low and rough, "You two… you shouldn't have crossed paths with her. She's not someone you're meant to know."
Kaito froze at those words.
Haruya, however, burst into laughter, his voice bouncing off the alley walls, "Ohhh, so you guys know her too? Damn, Kaito, your mystery girlfriend has a whole fan club!"
The gang didn't find it funny. The scarred man swung his pipe against the wall, the loud clang making sparks fly, and growled, "Enough jokes. Hand over the sketchbook. Now."
Kaito's eyes widened. His sketchbook. The one he always carried, the one filled with his drawings, the one that recently started to feel heavier, like the lines he drew inside had lives of their own.
"How do you know about that?" Kaito asked, his voice steady despite the chaos inside his chest.
The man grinned darkly, "Because your drawings aren't just drawings, boy. They're the key."
Haruya raised an eyebrow, turning to Kaito with exaggerated shock, "Wait, what? Don't tell me your stickmen doodles are actually powerful magic or something?"
Kaito didn't laugh. He couldn't. Because deep down, some part of him already feared that Haruya's joke was closer to the truth than either of them wanted to admit.
The gang moved closer, circling them slowly, chains clinking, pipes tapping against the ground.
Haruya exhaled sharply, grinning again, "Well, looks like we're about to have some fun. Ready, partner?"
Kaito's grip tightened on his sketchbook inside his bag, and with one last glance at the empty spot where the girl had stood, he whispered to himself, "Who are you… and why me?"
The fight was about to begin, but what scared Kaito the most wasn't the gang in front of him—it was the mysterious girl's words, echoing inside his head.
Someone who remembers you.
—