The bell rang.
Chairs scraped, bags zipped, and the steady thrum of murmurs filled the classroom like bees in a glass jar. Ren quietly packed his notebooks, careful to avoid the curious eyes flicking toward him when they thought he wasn't looking.
"Did you hear they used to live here before?"
"Someone said they're twins—but not really."
"Creepy, right? Like… something happened between them."
He kept his face still.
They didn't say his name, but they didn't have to.
The whispers had grown louder since yesterday. There was always someone watching—students glancing at him through cracked phone cases or from behind their books. He didn't blame them. A transfer from Tokyo suddenly living alone with his "sister" in the countryside—of course it invited rumors.
Still, the attention gnawed at him.
He stepped into the hallway, aiming to disappear quietly.
But someone was already waiting.
---
Kanna Yukishiro leaned against the stairwell wall, arms crossed, her snowy hair catching the morning light like strands of silver. She didn't speak until he passed her.
Then—soft, but sharp—
"You're still pretending like nothing happened?"
Ren froze.
He turned. "…What?"
Kanna looked up, her gaze cool and unreadable. "You recognize me, don't you?"
His brows furrowed, but before he could answer, she brushed past him, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Forget it. You already chose to forget."
And then she was gone—shoes tapping lightly on the steps, her presence like mist fading before he could catch it.
Ren stood there, heart suddenly tight in his chest.
Still pretending like nothing happened?
---
Sayuri sat by the window at home, flipping through an old photo album.
There were pictures of them at the summer festival, in yukata, holding goldfish in bags. Another showed Ren and her on the beach, sand clinging to their legs, a paper castle collapsed between them. Her hand was in his, bright and careless.
That Ren had smiled so easily.
She traced her finger across the glass.
Then, footsteps.
She quickly closed the album and set it aside just as Ren entered the room.
"Welcome back," she said with her usual softness.
Ren gave her a tired glance. "You didn't nap again, did you?"
Sayuri shook her head. "I just… didn't feel like sleeping."
He placed his schoolbag on the floor and stretched. "I might turn in early tonight."
Sayuri hesitated. "Did something happen at school?"
"…Nothing important," he muttered.
She bit her lip, her fingers fidgeting in her lap.
"Ren," she said, gently, "are the other kids being mean?"
He blinked. "Why would you ask that?"
"I just… I hear things."
A silence bloomed between them. Then Ren gave a half-shrug.
"I don't care what they think."
Sayuri looked down.
"…You should."
---
Later that night, when Ren was in the bath, Sayuri picked up his schoolbag to move it to his room.
But as she did, something fluttered out from the front pocket.
A folded note.
Sayuri bent down, slowly picked it up.
It was written in messy, bubble-like handwriting. A girl's, definitely.
She hesitated—then unfolded it.
> "Ichinose. Tomorrow, meet me behind the art building at lunch. I'll share my secret candy stash if you don't bring your gloomy cloud vibe. -Nao 🍬"
Sayuri stared at it.
Her fingers gripped the paper.
She didn't know this Nao girl—not really. Just the name. Just the way Ren mentioned the meatball thief with an annoyed smirk last night. Just enough to know she was bold.
Bold enough to slip him a note.
Sayuri's hands trembled.
Then, slowly, she tore the note in half.
And again.
And again, until it was nothing but tiny fragments between her fingers.
She held them for a while. As if unsure what she'd just done.
Then quietly, she dropped them into the trash can.
---
The bathroom door clicked open minutes later. Steam curled from within like breath in winter.
Ren stepped out, towel around his shoulders, hair damp and wild.
Sayuri passed him wordlessly and entered the bath next.
The door shut.
Steam filled the room once more.
Sayuri sat in the tub, knees drawn to her chest.
Sayuri sinks deeper into the bathtub, the water a perfect, heated embrace. Her slender body curves gently at the waist before flaring out into soft, rounded hips and long, smooth thighs. Pale skin glistens under the bathroom lights, catching the steam rising from the tub like a hazy shroud. Long, dark hair hangs in damp waves around her submerged shoulders.
Water clings to her curves like velvet, outlining each swell and dip with practiced ease. Steam kisses her exposed shoulder and neck, carrying with it the faint, sweet scent of lavender soap. The heat radiating from the water pools beneath her skin, a slow, delicious warmth that seems to seep into her bones. She looks utterly relaxed, caught in a private moment bathed in steam and solitude, her body a study in smooth, graceful lines bathed in warm light. The scene is undeniably sensual, her bare skin glowing faintly, an oasis of pure, hot female presence. The water highlights every curve, from the delicate slope of her collarbone to the full expanse of her breasts just below the surface, creating a picture of quiet arousal.
The warm water lapped gently at her skin.
She stared ahead, eyes blank.
Thoughts swam in silence.
She imagined Ren reading the note.
Laughing with someone.
Smiling that way—again—for someone else.
She closed her eyes.
But there was no comfort in the dark.
Only heat.
And the quiet ache of being forgotten.
---