The day started quiet.
Too quiet.
Even the whispers had stopped.
It should have felt like peace.
It didn't.
Because Aara knew better by now.
When people stopped talking, it was never because they stopped caring.
It was because something was coming.
It hit during third period.
A message buzzed through the student group chat like a virus — no name attached, no context, just a single image.
A photo.
Of Aara.
Not at school.
Not in the ring.
Not in a hoodie or gloves or bloodstained sneakers.
But in a hospital waiting room.
Hair tied back. Shoulders curled inward. Face pale.A medical file visible in her lap — just blurry enough not to read, but clear enough to raise questions.
And the caption beneath?
"Even Ash breaks."
It was all it took.
By fourth period, everyone had seen it.
By fifth, the questions began.
"Is she sick?""Is she in therapy?""Did she get arrested?""Why is she at a psych ward?"
The rumors spun fast — faster than fists ever could.
And Aara?
She felt it in every step.
The way people stopped pretending not to look.
The way teachers watched her with concern they used to reserve for kids on the edge.
She wasn't a myth anymore.
She was fragile. Human.
And exposed.
She found Minji waiting by her locker.
As if she'd been there all day.
As if she belonged.
Aara didn't even slow down.
"You did it," she said.
Minji smiled — not smug.
Just... satisfied.
"I told you I'd fix the story."
Aara stopped.
Turned slowly.
"Why that photo?"
"Because the violence doesn't scare them anymore," Minji said. "But weakness? That still makes people flinch."
Aara's eyes narrowed. "Where did you even get it?"
"I have my ways."
That was a lie.
Aara knew exactly where it came from.
She remembered that day — waiting in the hospital, alone, after Ayin had OD'd again. Her sister unconscious in the next room. Their mother nowhere to be found.
She remembered the cold chair. The ache in her throat.
The nurse had taken her file by mistake, set it on her lap.
She hadn't moved for an hour.
And Minji had seen her.
Snapped the photo.
Then waited.
Aara stepped in close.
Face-to-face.
So close Minji's smile faltered.
"You think you can use my pain as a story? You think that makes you in control?"
Minji didn't answer.
So Aara leaned in even closer.
"I'm not ashamed of what I survive."
Minji blinked — but only for a second.
Then she whispered:
"You should be."
That was when Haru appeared.
No sound.
No warning.
Just there.
One hand on Aara's shoulder — not pulling her back, just letting her know he was behind her.
Always.
Minji paled, just slightly.
But held her ground.
Aara turned to Haru.
"Don't," she said.
His eyes didn't move from Minji.
"I'm not going to touch her."
"Good."
"I'm going to end her quietly."
Minji tried to laugh.
"Tried that already, Haru. I'm not scared of you anymore."
He smiled.
But it wasn't a real smile.
It was something colder.
Something dead behind the eyes.
"You're not supposed to be scared," he said.
"You're supposed to wonder how long you have left before I erase you completely."
Minji stepped back.
Just one step.
Then turned and walked.
Fast.
Not running.
But close.
Aara stood still for a long time.
The hallway emptied slowly, the bell echoing in the background like it came from another world.
She finally spoke:
"She didn't just want to humiliate me."
"No," Haru said. "She wanted to own you in the way no one else could."
Aara nodded.
Then said, with a calm she didn't feel:
"Let her try again."
Because now?
Minji hadn't weakened her.
She'd just reminded Aara exactly what was worth protecting.
And what needed to burn.