The classroom buzzed faintly around him, but Kuro's mind was elsewhere, trapped in the echo of memories he couldn't forget. His hands were folded on the desk, trembling slightly, though he forced them still.
{…They almost killed me once. Not a joke. I was twelve… beaten until I couldn't even stand. And no one… no one did anything.}
[Wait, what? HOLY s***. Who the f*** did this to you?]
{Classmates. They cornered me after school. I couldn't move. My ribs cracked. My head… I don't even want to think about it. And when I went home…}
[Oh no. Don't f***ing tell me…]
{My father… he didn't care. He just looked at me, and told me to go buy some stuff for him. Said my injuries were my own fault. Said I was a waste of money and to hurry before it got dark.}
Elvastia's voice in his head went sharp, sarcastic, and, somehow, comedic.
[Unbelievable. That's like a f*ing horror story with a shopping list at the end. 'Cracked ribs? Better pick up my damn milk while you're at it.' What a classy ahole.]
Kuro's chest felt hollow again, emptiness spreading like ice through his veins. He didn't even know how to react. The memory wasn't new, but hearing it in his own mind again made it sting differently—like an old wound reopened.
Mika, sitting beside him, had been quietly listening. Pale eyes narrowing, jaw tight. He didn't say a word, but the subtle tremor in his hands betrayed the tension coiling beneath his calm exterior.
"…Kuro," Mika said finally, voice low and dangerously calm. "If I ever—no, if anyone ever touches you like that… I'll make sure they regret it."
Kuro swallowed hard. The emptiness in his chest tugged at him in a strange way—somewhere between relief and fear. Mika's words were sharp, cold, but… protective. The idea of someone standing up for him, someone who actually cared, felt alien.
[Hell yes. Finally. Someone's not letting you rot in the background. Though, not that I trust the guy fully… he's scary as hell.]
{…Elvastia… he's scary but… maybe he cares?}
[Yeah, yeah, about as scary as a freaking lion with laser eyes. Careful, Kuro, you're gonna get spoiled by this one.]
Kuro pressed his forehead lightly against his hand, trying to hold it together. That emptiness—sad, heavy, cold—was still there. But Mika's presence, and even Lucien's quiet support from earlier, was starting to feel like a faint warmth against it.
It was still fragile. Still uncertain. But for the first time in a long while, Kuro felt like maybe, just maybe, he wasn't completely alone.