Chapter 13 – Shadows Between Us
The night still smelled of smoke and metal. The alley behind them stretched like a wound across the city, broken glass catching faint glimmers from the streetlights. Natsuki flexed his knuckles, each throb reminding him of the fight, of fists and shouts and the sharp fear that had nearly swallowed him whole.
But what unsettled him more was not the bruises—it was the silence between Mitsuri and Hanako.
Hanako hadn't let go of his arm since finding him. She clutched him tightly, her brows furrowed in that familiar childhood way, like she was scolding him but holding back tears. Mitsuri, a few steps to the side, walked with her arms crossed, her gaze forward, as if the sight of Hanako's hand on him was nothing worth noticing. But Natsuki knew her well enough to see the tension in her jaw, the sharpness in her eyes when they glanced their way.
The walk back to the main street felt longer than the fight itself.
Hanako finally broke the silence. "You should see a doctor, Natsuki. That cut on your lip might get infected. And your hand—"
"It's nothing," Natsuki muttered.
"Don't say that," she snapped, her grip tightening on his sleeve. "You've been saying that since we were kids. Remember when you fell from the park wall in sixth grade? You told me 'I'm fine' while your knee was bleeding so much I thought you'd faint. Some things never change."
Her voice was half a laugh, half a plea.
Mitsuri exhaled sharply. "This isn't the time to reminisce about scraped knees. If those guys come back with more, none of us will be fine."
Hanako shot her a look, the polite smile on her lips betraying a sharp edge. "And what do you suggest? Leave him alone out here? He needs someone to look after him."
"I was already looking after him," Mitsuri replied coldly. "If I wasn't here, those punks might've left him worse than this."
The words hung heavy.
Natsuki clenched his fists. "Enough. Both of you." His voice cut through the air, harsher than he intended. "We're not talking about this now. Let's just… get home."
But "home" didn't feel like home that night.
---
By the time Natsuki finally stumbled into his small apartment, the weight of the night pressed down on him like lead. He threw his jacket on the chair, collapsing onto the bed without bothering to clean the dried blood on his knuckles.
Mitsuri lingered by the doorway, leaning against the frame, arms crossed. She didn't offer comfort, but her presence was steady, grounding him like always. Hanako, however, had taken immediate control of the room, bustling around as if she'd lived there all her life—fetching a towel, filling a basin with water, opening the first-aid kit that Natsuki never touched.
"Sit up," Hanako ordered.
Natsuki groaned. "I said I'm fine."
"And I said sit up." She knelt beside the bed, dipping the towel into the basin. When she pressed it gently against his split lip, he flinched. "Don't be a baby," she teased softly, though her eyes softened with worry.
Mitsuri finally spoke, her voice quiet but edged. "He doesn't need to be coddled."
Hanako didn't look at her. "He doesn't need to be ignored, either."
The air thickened, the silence between them sharper than glass.
Natsuki closed his eyes, wishing he could disappear. The sting of the towel on his lip was nothing compared to the sting in his chest. He'd fought gangs before, faced down blades and fists—but this? Being caught between Mitsuri's quiet storm and Hanako's blazing sun? It was a battle with no way out.
---
Later that night, after Hanako finally left—reluctantly, promising to "check on him first thing in the morning"—Mitsuri stayed behind. She hadn't said much, only sat on the chair by the window, staring out at the empty street.
Natsuki leaned back against his pillow, his voice hoarse. "You don't like her."
Mitsuri didn't look at him. "It's not about liking or not liking. She's too close to you. Too bold."
He frowned. "She's just worried. We've known each other forever."
Finally, Mitsuri turned, her gaze sharp enough to pin him in place. "And what about me? How long have I been by your side, Natsuki? When you're reckless, I'm the one cleaning up after you. When you're about to break, I'm the one holding you together. Don't tell me her childhood stories mean she knows you better than I do."
Her words cut deep, not because they were cruel, but because they were true.
Natsuki opened his mouth, then shut it again. He had no answer. The silence stretched between them, heavy with everything unsaid.
---
The next morning, the world returned to routine. Students flooded the high school gates, laughter and chatter filling the air. But for Natsuki, the fight still lingered in his body, every bruise a reminder of last night.
And as fate would have it, Hanako stood waiting at the school entrance, her smile bright and unyielding as she waved at him. Mitsuri, walking at his side, tensed instantly.
"Natsuki!" Hanako called, rushing to his side. "I told you I'd check on you, didn't I?"
Mitsuri's lips curved into the faintest smirk. "Persistent, isn't she?"
Hanako caught the tone immediately. She stepped closer, slipping her arm around Natsuki's without hesitation. "Of course. He's always needed someone to look after him." She looked Mitsuri straight in the eye, her voice sweet but firm. "And I'm not going to let him push me away this time."
Mitsuri didn't back down. She tilted her head, her eyes sharp. "Funny. I thought he already had someone looking after him."
The two girls stood on either side of him, their rivalry no longer silent. The battlefield had shifted from alleys and fists to classrooms and emotions—and Natsuki knew, with a sinking heart, that this fight was only beginning.
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