The night seemed calm.
But inside Hachimiya Megumi, memories churned like thorns she couldn't pull out.
She was asleep—or so she thought.
But in her mind, scenes from the past repeated themselves, twisted like a dream she couldn't wake up from.
"Do you like Hikaru?" Yamada had once asked her, wearing that sly smile that made it impossible to tell if he was serious or mocking.
Megumi blushed. Shook her head awkwardly, as she always did.
Yamada was no one's friend, but everyone feared him.
So when he started talking to her—protecting her from the boys who teased her at school—Megumi felt… special.
"You know, you're different. Not like the others," he told her.
That was the first thing that broke her.
It wasn't the alcohol.
It wasn't the cheap motel.
It was that line—and the way he looked at her. Like he actually saw something in her.
The first time was quick. Clumsy.
She knew nothing, but he knew everything.
And he didn't stop.
At first, he treated her gently, like she was fragile… until he didn't anymore.
Then came the other times.
Every time she said no, he convinced her. With words. With touches.
With soft threats wrapped in artificial kindness.
"Don't tell anyone. Don't tell Hikaru. He wouldn't understand."
And Megumi—naïve—stayed quiet.
Until she couldn't anymore.
The day she noticed her body changing, when her period didn't come, when her uniform no longer fit, she locked herself in the bathroom, hands trembling.
Positive.
It was positive.
And the first person she told was Yamada.
He laughed.
"What did you expect? That's what happens when you don't use anything, right?"
Megumi couldn't answer. She was frozen.
"I guess it's your fault too. You never said anything. That's what I liked about you—you were quiet."
She didn't know how things fell apart so quickly after that.
She tried to hide it. Wore baggy clothes. Pretended.
But her belly grew.
The stares increased.
Until her parents confronted her.
Yelling.
Insults.
Crying.
"You're a disgrace," her mother said. "Who did you sleep with? That blond delinquent?"
She couldn't deny it. She didn't have the strength.
Her father threw a suitcase at her feet.
"Get out. You're not having that bastard's child in this house."
Megumi walked alone in the rain. She had nowhere to go.
Hikaru watched from a distance, but didn't come closer.
He'd always been kind.
Too much of a coward to act.
And when she had no one left… she went back to the only one who had touched her.
The one who had destroyed her.
In the dim light, Megumi shifted slightly, eyes closed, tears sliding down her cheeks.
"…Why did it have to be you?" she whispered in her sleep.
Alex, lying on the floor beside her, didn't hear her.
But the heart of the broken girl kept beating—searching in the darkness for any sign that this time… something could be different.
Dawn seeped softly through the dirty curtain.
A faint gray glow lit the room scarred by the past.
Megumi opened her eyes slowly, eyelids heavy with exhaustion and tears that had never fully come.
Everything ached. Her back. Her legs. Her neck.
But more than anything, the ache was in the center of her chest—that invisible place where she once kept her dreams.
With a quiet sigh, she sat up.
Her swollen belly rose with her, a constant reminder that she was no longer alone.
That a life was growing inside her.
A life not born of love, but of manipulation, silence, and abandonment.
She looked at Yamada Takashi, asleep on the floor, back against the wall.
His breathing was calm, jaw relaxed, messy blond hair falling over closed eyes.
He didn't look like the monster from before.
But he didn't look like someone she could trust, either.
What's left for me? Megumi thought.
Her home was gone.
Her parents wanted nothing to do with her.
Her friends avoided her.
And Hikaru…
Her dear Hikaru…
He had seen it all.
Seen how Yamada took her, led her away, isolated her.
And still, he didn't lift a finger.
He just looked away—and said nothing.
Was that love? Was that friendship?
Megumi looked down.
Her belly stirred slightly—a sign of life. A silent promise.
What's going to become of me?
A single mother. Still in high school.
Living with a delinquent who once broke her.
Was she going to become one of those women she saw on TV?
The ones who accepted fists, screams, betrayal—just to not be alone?
She bit her lip, holding back something she wasn't sure was a sob… or surrender.
Then… she moved.
Climbed off the mattress carefully, making no noise.
She approached him slowly, as if afraid that waking him would bring back the Yamada she once knew.
But he didn't wake.
Didn't move. Just slept.
Megumi knelt beside him. Leaned in, resting her head on his shoulder.
She trembled. Maybe from the cold. Maybe from fear.
Maybe… from hope.
She curled up beside him. Felt his warmth. His scent. His presence.
And in a voice barely audible, like a whisper thrown into the void, she said:
"…Even if you hurt me… please, don't leave."
Because she had no one else.
Because her world had shrunk to this.
An unborn child.
A broken promise.
And a delinquent who, for some reason, that morning… was still there.