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**– Hinata's Apartment**
Hinata jerked awake, her neck stiff from where it had lolled against the doorframe. The hardwood floor had left imprints on her cheek. She fumbled for her phone, the sudden brightness making her wince.
**2:17 AM.**
No messages. No missed calls.
She exhaled, her breath fogging the screen before it went dark again. *Pathetic,* she thought, crawling to her bed. *Waiting up like some lovesick idiot.* The sheets were cold when she slid beneath them, but sleep came quickly—the heavy, dreamless kind that felt more like sinking than resting.
---
**2:43 AM – The House on 52nd Street**
The iron gate screeched when Akira pushed it open.
The house was older than the others on the block, its paint peeling like sunburnt skin. The numbers **"52"** hung crooked on the mailbox, the **"5"** dangling by a single rusted screw.
He knocked three times. The sound echoed, too loud for the sleeping street.
No answer.
The doorbell was sticky under his finger. He pressed it twice, listening to the chime echo inside. A shadow shifted behind the frosted glass.
The door creaked open. A man in his fifties—flannel pajamas, thinning hair—rubbed his eyes with one hand while the other gripped the doorframe. **"Christ, kid, do you know what time—?"**
**"I'm Akira,"** he said, smiling.
The man blinked. **"What?"**
**"I'm here to give you something."**
A pause. The man's gaze dropped to Akira's hands. Empty. **"Look, I don't know what you're—"**
**"Peace."**
The knife was in Akira's palm before the man could react. The blade went up—*under the chin*, through the soft meat of the tongue, the roof of the mouth—*crunching* through bone until the tip scraped the back of the skull.
The man didn't even scream.
Akira stepped over the body, shutting the door behind him.
---
** – Hinata's Bedroom**
The alarm screamed. Hinata slapped it silent, groaning as she rolled onto her back. Her uniform was wrinkled, the ribbon around her collar frayed from where she'd twisted it in her sleep.
**8:00 AM.**
*Shit.* She'd meant to change last night.
She stripped quickly, tossing the rumpled uniform into the hamper before pulling on a fresh white blouse and skirt. The fabric smelled like detergent and something faintly metallic—probably the cheap soap from the laundromat downstairs.
When she opened her door, Akira was already there, leaning against the wall like he'd been waiting for hours.
**"Morning,"** he said.
Hinata blinked. **"How long have you—?"**
**"Not long."** He pushed off the wall, falling into step beside her. **"You look tired."**
She shrugged. **"Didn't sleep well."**
Akira hummed, but didn't ask why.
---
#** – School Hallway**
The whispers started as soon as they walked in.
Hinata pretended not to notice, but the way conversations stuttered when she passed, the way eyes darted away—*something was wrong.* Even the teacher hesitated before calling on her, like she might bite.
Akira watched it all with quiet amusement.
School over . Hinata was still sad Akira looked at her and said**"have you seen the new movie"**. Hinata said**"No"**.
Akira said**"Want to watch together at my place"**.
Hinata nodded.
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** – Akira's Apartment**
His room was *too* clean.
Not just tidy—*sterile.* The desk was bare, the bed made with military precision. Even the books on the shelf were arranged by height.
Hinata perched on the edge of the bed while Akira queued up the movie. She tried to ignore the itch between her shoulder blades, the way the air smelled faintly of bleach.
**"You okay?"** Akira asked, handing her a soda.
**"Yeah,"** she lied, popping the tab. **"Just... tired."**
He nodded like he believed her.
When the credits rolled, Hinata stood too fast, her knee knocking the empty can over. It rolled under the bed. She dropped to her knees, groping for it—
Her fingers brushed something *cold* and *smooth.*
Metal.
Akira's hand closed around her wrist before she could look. **"I'll get it,"** he said, pulling her up.
The door locked behind her with a soft *click.*
---
**8:30 PM – Police Station**
**"Tell me about Akira's past,"** Kento demanded, blocking John's path to the coffee machine.
John sighed, lighting a cigarette despite the **NO SMOKING** sign. **"I would if I knew it."**
**"Bullshit."** Kento's hands curled into fists. **"You've been protecting him since day one. Why?"**
The smoke curled between them. **"A promise."**
**"To who?"**
John stubbed the cigarette out on the wall. **"Someone who's dead now."**
He walked away, leaving Kento in the buzzing fluorescence.
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