The night after the Kisaragi Bridge incident was unusually calm.
The city breathed again, unaware that reality had nearly cracked wide open just hours ago. The trio had returned to Riku's temporary hideout—a forgotten dojo on the outskirts of town, abandoned since the last headmaster vanished under "mysterious cursed circumstances."
Typical Tokyo.
Aira sat on the dojo's worn wooden steps, hugging her knees, watching the moon glow above. Her long hair swayed gently in the night wind. Inside, she could hear Momo snoring and muttering something about ghosts stealing her snacks.
But her attention remained fixed on the boy in the courtyard.
Riku stood shirtless beneath the moonlight, golden eyes shut, silver hair clinging to his sweat-covered skin. Cursed energy pulsed softly around him—not as a weapon, but as breath. Life. Rhythm.
He was beautiful in a haunting way.
Not just handsome.
But strange. Alien. A walking contradiction of overwhelming cursed energy and quiet humanity.
Aira leaned her chin against her knee.
> "Why do you always look so far away when you're right in front of us?"
She didn't realize she'd said it aloud until Riku opened one eye.
"You talking to me or the moon?" he asked, voice low, teasing.
She flushed slightly but didn't look away. "Both."
He smiled faintly and walked over, collapsing beside her with a tired grunt. His shoulder brushed hers.
Neither moved away.
"You scared me tonight," she said quietly. "At the bridge."
"Sorry."
"You're always sorry. But you keep doing it."
"I know," he admitted. "I keep pushing the edge."
She looked at him, searching his profile—sharp jawline, a faint scar just beneath his eye, barely noticeable unless you knew what to look for.
"You're not like anyone I've ever met."
"That's good or bad?"
"I don't know," she admitted. "You fight like someone who's always been fighting. You adapt like someone who's afraid to stop evolving. And… sometimes, you look like someone who doesn't belong here."
The words hung between them.
She'd never said it aloud.
But something inside her whispered it often.
> He doesn't move like a boy born in this world.
Riku didn't flinch. His fingers toyed with a blade of grass.
"I don't remember where I'm from," he said. "Not really. Not clearly. But… sometimes I see things in my dreams. A temple with red skies. Screams and fire. Eyes that shine like mine."
"Memories?"
"Or warnings."
She turned her body toward him more. "Who are you, Riku?"
He looked at her then. Really looked.
And for the first time, Aira didn't see power. She saw pain.
"I don't know," he whispered. "But I want to be someone who protects you. And Momo. And whoever else this world throws at me."
Her breath caught.
There was no flirtation in his tone. No bravado. Just… sincerity.
She hated how her heart reacted to it.
"Then stop doing it alone," she said, voice shaking. "We're not weak, you know. Momo's cursed intuition is off the charts. And I've been training in spirit martial arts since I was ten."
"I know. You're strong," he admitted. "But you're also targets."
She leaned in, forehead touching his. "So are you."
Their eyes met.
For the briefest moment, something passed between them. Warmth. Curiosity. Longing. Fear.
Aira looked away first, her cheeks bright red.
"Sorry. That was—"
"I didn't mind," Riku said softly.
She chuckled nervously. "Careful. I get dangerous when flustered."
"I'm already cursed," he said with a crooked grin. "What's the worst that could happen?"
They laughed together, a rare moment of lightness after days of darkness.
Aira looked up at the stars again, quieter this time.
And she knew—
> This wasn't just a crush. This was the start of something deeper. The first real glance into a boy who might not be human… but was somehow more human than anyone she knew.