Hikaru Saito's POV
I stood in front of what remained of a broken mirror, still half-expecting anything to be reflecting at me.
I ran a hand through my hair and sighed.
Time to face it again.
The to school felt heavier than usual. Every step closer was a step into more whispers, more stares. The wind carried fragments of gossip, like my name had become a rumour with legs.
"Did you hear? He took both down—at the same time."
"They say his eyes were glowing red… like, actually glowing."
"No way that's normal. He's not normal."
I tried to ignore it. Focus on the pavement. On the passing cars. Anything but the fact that the whole school was already waiting to dissect me again.
When I stepped through the school gates, the crowd didn't part—but it watched. Phones out. Eyes wide. Voices low but sharp.
I kept walking.
I wasn't ten steps in before someone called my name.
"Hikaru!"
I turned. Akira and Taro were waiting just past the entrance, waving me over. Akira's grin was half-hearted at best. Taro's usual lightness was missing too.
"You look like crap," Akira said bluntly, falling in beside me.
"Good morning to you too," I muttered.
Taro snorted. "He's not wrong though. You sleep at all?"
I shrugged. "Barely."
The three of us moved toward the lockers, but I could already feel it—the shift in their posture, the glances they exchanged. Something was coming.
Once the hallway thinned out, Akira leaned against the lockers and crossed his arms. "We need to talk."
There it was.
"About the fight?" I guessed.
Taro nodded. "Yeah. And about you."
I raised an eyebrow. "Me?"
Akira's voice dropped lower. "You've been different, Hikaru. Since… well, everything. The way you moved during that fight—it wasn't normal. It was like you were seeing things before they happened."
Taro added, "I mean, don't get us wrong, it was cool—crazy cool—but it was also kind of terrifying. You weren't just fighting. You were in another gear. Like something else had taken over."
I swallowed the knot in my throat. "I was protecting someone. That's all."
Akira shook his head. "We know. And we're not saying what you did was wrong. We're saying it scared us—because we don't know how far this thing goes."
Taro nudged me lightly. "And because we care, man. You're our friend. Whatever's going on, we're with you. But don't shut us out."
I looked between them. Two of my first and only friends, standing there, telling me I didn't have to carry it alone.
A small smile tugged at my lips. "Thanks. I mean it. I know I've changed. But I'm still me. I won't lose control. I won't let it get that far."
Akira clapped a hand on my shoulder. "Good. Because we're not letting you go all broody lone wolf without dragging you back."
Taro grinned. "If you try, we'll just annoy you into submission."
I laughed. For the first time in a while, it felt real.
The tension didn't vanish—but for a moment, it eased.
Classes blurred by in a haze of half-listening and second glances. I kept thinking about the Chairman. The way he'd looked at me today, calm but calculated.
He hadn't punished me.
He'd warned me.
And that made it worse.
Just before lunch ended, a note was delivered to my desk.
Come to my office after final period. —Chairman Kurogane
My stomach sank.
By the time the final bell rang, my nerves were fraying. I stood in front of the Chairman's office door, fists clenched at my sides.
I knocked once.
"Enter."
Chairman Kurogane sat behind his desk, hands folded, his eyes sharp.
"You've had quite an eventful week, Saito."
"Yes, sir," I said cautiously.
"I trust you remember what happened yesterday."
"I do."
He studied me for a long moment. "Then I'll be direct. You're not just another student anymore. Others have started to take notice. What you did—it reached ears beyond these walls."
I tensed. "What does that mean?"
"It means you should tread carefully. Not everyone watching you has good intentions."
My mouth went dry. "Are you one of them?"
That got a faint smile out of him. "I'm someone who believes in potential. But potential, left unchecked, becomes a threat."
His words hung in the air like a blade.
"You're free to go, Saito. For now."
I found Akane waiting for me near the school gates. Her expression was unreadable, but her hand found mine the moment I approached.
"Walk with me?" she asked.
We ended up on the rooftop again, the city spread out beneath us. The wind tugged at her hair as we sat in silence.
I finally spoke. "The Chairman… he said others are watching me."
Akane's eyes didn't meet mine.
"I know."
I turned to her, frowning. "How long have you known?"
She hesitated, then said softly, "Long enough. Hikaru… he's not just some principal. He's involved in things. Things I haven't told you yet."
"Why not?" I asked, a little sharper than I intended.
"Because once you know, there's no going back."
I stared at her. "Akane, whatever it is—whatever you know—I deserve the truth."
She reached out and squeezed my hand. "And I'll tell you. Just not yet. Not until I'm sure you're ready."
I wanted to press. To demand answers.
But something in her eyes—something tired and scared—made me stop.
"Okay," I said quietly. "But promise me something."
"Anything."
"Whatever's coming… we face it together."
She nodded. "Always."
The Following Evening:
The door creaked open under my hand. I stepped inside.
Same house. Same scent of miso and rice lingering in the air. But everything else felt different—heavier. The silence wasn't peaceful. It was loaded, like the walls themselves had been holding their breath since I left.
I took off my shoes, the hallway cold beneath my feet.
Aoi stood just ahead, arms crossed tightly over her chest. She didn't speak right away—just looked at me. Hard.
Her stare was sharp. Not angry. Just… searching.
"You have a good day at school?" she asked.
Flat. Guarded.
I nodded. "Yeah. Nothing special."
Aoi's eyes narrowed. "You don't look like nothing special."
I flinched at her tone. Not because she was wrong—but because she was right. She could see it—the change. I was taller. Broader. My presence filled more space than it used to. Even when I didn't speak.
"You look different," she said, quietly this time.
I hesitated. "I feel… different."
A beat passed.
"I don't know what's happening to me, Aoi," I admitted. "It's like I'm becoming someone else—and I don't know if that's good or bad."
She finally looked away. "I noticed."
Her voice was softer, but it still hit hard.
"You're not the same. And I guess... I haven't really been either."
I blinked. That wasn't what I expected.
She shifted; eyes fixed on the floor now. "You've been going through all this alone. And I just stood back. Like the rest of them."
My throat tightened.
"You didn't deserve that, Hikaru."
"It's okay—"
"No, it's not," she cut in. "I thought you were just acting out. I didn't want to deal with it, so I didn't. I left you alone when you needed us most."
The silence between us lingered for a moment—one of those silences that says something. Then, without another word, she brushed past me and headed for the kitchen.
Dinner was awkward.
Mom served rice and grilled fish like everything was normal, but her eyes kept drifting to me between bites. Aoi barely touched her food.
I didn't say much either. None of us did.
Until Mom broke the silence.
"You have changed haven't you, Hikaru."
Her tone was calm, but there was a tremor under the surface—like she was trying to sound casual but couldn't quite manage it.
I stared at my plate. "It's just school. It's been a lot lately."
Mom didn't buy it. "I know you. And this—" her eyes narrowed on mine, "—this isn't just stress."
She set her chopsticks down gently, like she was afraid of breaking something.
"What's happening to you?"
I couldn't look at her. "I'm changing," I said. "I don't know why. I just… am."
"Then talk to me," she said, softer now. "Let me help."
I finally met her eyes. There was no anger there—just concern. Real, maternal concern that made something ache inside my chest.
"I don't know how," I said honestly.
Aoi said nothing, but I felt her glance at me across the table. Something unspoken passed between us, and I knew this wasn't just the transformation. This was about us. About the cracks that had formed long before anything supernatural ever happened.
That night, the house was quiet again.
I found Aoi by the window in the living room, arms wrapped around herself, staring out into the night.
She didn't look at me when I approached.
"You're waiting for the stars to answer you?" I asked.
She smirked faintly. "No stars out tonight."
I stepped beside her, our reflections side by side in the window's glass—me, a stranger in my own skin. Her, a sister I'd grown distant from.
"We need to talk," I said.
A pause.
"About what?"
"About everything. Me. You. Us."
She was quiet for a long time. Then, finally: "I don't understand you anymore, Hikaru."
Her voice cracked just slightly. Enough to let me hear what it was underneath.
"You've changed so fast, and I couldn't keep up. I didn't want to. So, I pushed you away. Pretended it wasn't happening."
She turned to face me, eyes shimmering in the moonlight.
"I'm scared, I don't know you anymore."
I swallowed hard.
"I don't know me either," I said. "But I don't want to lose you. Not again."
Her lip trembled.
"I thought if I ignored it, it would go away. That you'd come back and be normal again. But you're not. And you never will be."
I nodded. "But I'm still your brother."
She hesitated—then stepped forward and hugged me.
It wasn't tight. It wasn't long.
But it was real.
"I don't care if you've changed," she whispered. "Just don't disappear on me."
I squeezed her back. "I won't. I promise."