The morning came slowly, wrapped in cold light and the hum of city noise bleeding through the window.
Aara stirred first.
Haru hadn't moved — his arm still draped across her waist, his chest rising and falling in a rhythm that made her stomach tighten for reasons she didn't want to name.
It wasn't the warmth that surprised her.
It was the peace.
She wasn't used to waking up without her fists clenched, without her jaw sore from grinding through nightmares.And yet, here she was. Breathing. Blinking at the cracks in the ceiling. Still wrapped in the clothes from last night, still holding onto something that felt dangerously like comfort.
She moved slightly. Haru's grip tightened without thought, pulling her closer.
He was still asleep, but barely.
His guard never dropped all the way. Even in rest, he looked like someone ready to throw himself between her and a bullet.
It should've made her uneasy.
It didn't.
When Haru finally opened his eyes, he didn't speak right away. Just looked at her.
She didn't look away.
There were too many words between them now. Saying them out loud would only tangle the silence.
Eventually, he sat up, rubbed his eyes, and reached for the bottle of water she kept by the bed. He took a long sip, then handed it to her without a word.
They passed it back and forth like a ritual.
Something ordinary.
Something real.
He didn't ask how she slept.
She didn't ask why he'd stayed the whole night.
Neither needed the answer.
But as she stood to stretch, pulling her hair into a loose tie, he finally broke the quiet.
"You going back to the ring tonight?"
She paused.
"Yeah."
He didn't look away. "You don't have to."
"I do."
Haru nodded like he expected the answer — and maybe he had. Maybe he'd hoped, just for a second, she'd say no. That she'd choose to be somewhere safer. With him. Or away from him.
But safety never paid off someone else's debt.
And Aara never got the luxury of walking away from the fight.
He stood too, rolling his shoulders, stretching the stiffness out of his spine.
"You're bruising under your eye," he said.
"I know."
"You let the hit land?"
"No," she said, smirking faintly. "He was just faster."
Haru's jaw tightened at that, but he didn't comment. Instead, he walked over to her window and glanced out at the street.
Then he said something she didn't expect.
"I want to be there tonight."
Aara froze halfway through zipping her hoodie. "What?"
"I want to see it."
"No."
"I need to."
She turned to him fully, arms crossed. "Why? You already know who I am in that ring."
"That's not why I need to see it."
His voice was low now. Steady, but not cold.
"I need to see what they turn you into," he said. "So I know how to carry the weight when you come back."
Her throat tightened.
She didn't respond right away.
Not because she didn't want to — but because she didn't know how.
Haru didn't wait for permission.
He stepped close, reached into his back pocket, and pulled out something small — a pendant on a black cord. It was scratched up, dull silver, shaped like a wolf's fang.
He dropped it into her palm.
"I've had it since I was a kid. Used to bite it when I wanted to punch holes in walls."
Aara looked down at it, surprised.
"It's ugly," she said.
"I know."
"Why are you giving it to me?"
"Because every time I wanted to disappear, I held that. And didn't."
Her fingers curled around it, slow and tight.
He looked at her like he already knew the answer to the question he wasn't asking.
And she looked back like she'd already made the promise.
That night, he would stand in the shadows of the underground ring, eyes locked on the girl with bandaged fists and a bleeding heart.
But for now — for this quiet hour — they simply existed in the same room.
Two disasters, choosing not to run.