POV: Sakura Aoyama
The mall was louder than Sakura expected.
Not because of music or announcements, but because of people—voices overlapping, laughter colliding, footsteps echoing across polished floors.
Light spilled from storefronts in soft gold and neon white, reflecting off glass and chrome until everything felt slightly unreal.
She hadn't planned to come here.
That was the problem.
It started as a practical decision. Station construction near her usual route. A detour. A need to kill time before the next train.
The mall happened to be there, wide and warm, promising anonymity through volume.
She stepped inside alone.
Immediately, heads turned.
Not all of them. Not obviously.
But enough.
Sakura felt it the way she always did—the subtle shift in attention when she entered a space. Conversations slowed.
A few eyes lingered longer than necessary. Someone bumped into a pillar after glancing her way.
She wore simple clothes. Nothing revealing. Nothing flashy.
It didn't matter.
Her long black hair fell loose down her back today, catching the overhead lights with faint silver shine.
Her posture was straight without being rigid, movements unhurried, controlled. Her face was calm, unreadable, pale against the warmth of the mall lighting.
She didn't look like she was trying to be noticed.
That was why she was.
Two girls whispered near a cosmetics store.
"Is she a model?"
"No, she's too—quiet."
"Then why does she look like that?"
Sakura ignored them and walked on.
She passed clothing stores, arcades, cafés filled with students her age. This was where people from different schools mixed, uniforms blending into a single noise of adolescence.
She should have blended in.
She didn't.
At a bookstore, she paused, fingers brushing spines absently. The quiet there was welcome. She exhaled slowly, tension easing a fraction.
Then a reflection moved behind her.
She glanced up.
Ren.
He stood near the entrance, hands in his pockets, dark jacket replacing his uniform. In civilian clothes, he looked different—less formal, more dangerous in a way that didn't belong to institutions.
People noticed him too.
Not with awe.
With interest.
Their gazes slid between them, confusion knitting brows.
Together, they didn't look accidental.
Sakura turned back to the shelf. "You followed me."
"No," Ren replied. "I happened to be here."
She didn't believe him.
But she didn't call him out either.
"That's unfortunate timing," she said.
"For whom?"
"For both of us," Sakura replied.
POV: Ren Kurotsuki
The mall was a mistake.
Ren realized it the moment he saw her.
Sakura Aoyama stood beneath the soft lights of the bookstore like she'd been placed there deliberately—too composed, too still, her beauty quiet enough to feel wrong in a space built on consumption and noise.
She didn't belong here.
Not because she was out of place.
Because she drew too much focus.
Ren watched people notice her without understanding why.
He saw the delayed reactions, the way eyes returned to her after looking away, the faint irritation that followed.
Beauty like hers didn't invite admiration.
It disrupted balance.
When people noticed him standing nearby, the interpretation was immediate.
Connection.
Assumption.
Ren disliked that.
At school, perception could be managed.
Here, it moved freely.
A group of boys passed, laughter loud. One slowed, eyes lingering on Sakura openly.
Ren stepped closer—not to block, not to confront.
To be seen.
The boy's gaze shifted. He looked away.
Good.
That wasn't power.
That was instinct.
Ren leaned closer to Sakura and lowered his voice. "We shouldn't stay."
She didn't look at him. "I'm not done."
He studied her profile—the calm curve of her expression, the absence of fear, the way she refused to rush even when attention pressed in.
"You're attracting the wrong kind of curiosity," he said.
She finally met his gaze. "That happens everywhere."
"Yes," Ren replied. "But here, it spreads faster."
POV: Keita (Photography Club)
Keita almost dropped his drink.
He spotted them near the bookstore, first Sakura, then Ren, and his brain stalled trying to process the image.
They looked unreal.
Not in a celebrity way. Not flashy.
Like something you weren't supposed to see in public without context.
"Holy—" he muttered, pulling his phone out instinctively.
Not to take a picture.
To check.
Notifications were already rolling in.
Is that Ren?
Who's the girl with him??
Isn't she from Kurotsuki?
Keita swallowed.
This wasn't a photoshoot.
This was worse.
Raw exposure.
He hesitated, then approached cautiously.
"Hey," he said, voice too casual. "Didn't expect to see you two here."
Sakura turned first.
Up close, she was even more striking—pale skin, dark eyes sharp and unreadable, beauty so controlled it felt intentional even when it wasn't.
Keita felt himself straighten unconsciously.
Ren looked less amused.
"This isn't a good idea," Keita said quietly. "People are already noticing."
"They always do," Sakura replied.
Keita shook his head. "No, I mean—look."
He tilted his phone.
A social feed scrolled rapidly.
Blurry photos. Side angles. Reflections.
Them.
Together.
No names yet.
Speculation instead.
Sakura stared at the screen.
Something cold settled in her chest.
Ren exhaled slowly. "That didn't take long."
POV: Sakura Aoyama
She hadn't planned for this.
That was the part that irritated her most.
At school, she understood the rules—even if she didn't agree with them. Outside, she'd believed freedom meant anonymity.
She'd been wrong.
"They'll forget," she said.
Keita grimaced. "Maybe. Or maybe someone tags the academy."
Ren's jaw tightened.
Sakura handed the phone back. "I'm leaving."
Keita nodded quickly. "Probably smart."
She turned without waiting for Ren.
The mall felt tighter now, the noise sharper, eyes heavier. She walked quickly but didn't run, refusing to look like she was fleeing.
Near the exit, someone called out.
"Hey!"
She didn't stop.
A hand brushed her sleeve.
She turned.
A girl stood there—same age, bold, eyes bright with curiosity rather than hostility.
"You're really pretty," the girl said bluntly.
"Are you famous?"
Sakura blinked.
"No," she replied.
The girl smiled. "You will be."
Sakura left without responding.
Outside, the evening air hit her like a release.
She walked fast, heart steady but mind racing.
Behind her, footsteps followed.
Ren caught up easily.
"This is what I meant," he said quietly.
"Outside is messy."
She didn't slow. "Then stop following me."
"I wasn't," he replied. "I am now."
She stopped abruptly and turned.
"Don't," Sakura said. "Don't turn coincidence into possession."
Ren held her gaze.
For once, he didn't smile.
"I'm not trying to own you," he said.
"Then what are you trying to do?"
"Understand why you don't disappear," he answered.
That was honest.
Too honest.
She exhaled. "Then start by letting me walk alone."
A long pause.
Then Ren stepped back.
"Fine," he said. "For tonight."
She nodded once and walked away.
POV: Ren Kurotsuki
Ren watched her disappear into the crowd.
Not the academy.
Not the city.
The space between.
He checked his phone.
Messages were already coming in.
Questions. Assumptions. Interest.
He ignored them.
The problem wasn't attention.
It was that Sakura Aoyama didn't know how much of it she drew.
And once she did—
Ren smiled faintly.
The balance would shift again.
.
.
.