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Chapter 11: The Tree Behind the House
Kuro didn't come to school the next day.
No call. No text. Not even a fake excuse sent through a friend.
His desk sat empty, the hoodie he sometimes draped over the chair absent, and his usual spot near the window felt colder without him.
"He's never missed a day," Jason muttered, arms crossed.
"Maybe he's sick?" Riku offered, though even he didn't believe it.
Sera shook her head. "He'd still show up. Or at least let one of us know."
But Eve didn't say anything.
She just stared at the seat.
And then out the window—toward the woods again.
Something was wrong.
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After school, the group didn't even debate it—they headed to Kuro's house together.
They'd never been inside.
They barely knew what street he lived on.
But Kuro had once walked them home and made a joke about living near "the house with no curtains." Sera remembered. She always did.
The street was quiet. Uneasy.
Kuro's house sat at the end of the road—small, gray, the windows dark and empty. Not a single light on. No sound. No movement. Like no one had lived there in years.
Jason knocked.
No answer.
Riku tried the door.
Locked.
They circled around the side yard, Eve moving slower than the others, her eyes scanning everything—the cracked pavement, the scorched marks on the back fence, the faint smell of ash in the wind.
Then she saw it.
A Sakura tree.
Hidden behind the house, just beyond the yard where the tall grass grew wild. Its soft pink blossoms shouldn't have bloomed—not this late in the year—but they did, delicate and vivid like they didn't care about seasons or rules.
And sitting beneath it—
Kuro.
His hoodie was off, resting beside him. Bandages covered his arms and neck. He was humming again, a strange, hollow tune that made Eve's chest tighten the longer she listened.
He didn't notice them at first.
His eyes were half-lidded, lips moving with the hum, one hand pressing into the grass like he was feeling the heartbeat of the earth.
Then—
A voice.
Sharp. Deep. Commanding.
"KURO."
Kuro flinched hard—his shoulders jerking, the hum cutting off like a blade to a string.
He turned quickly, trembling, his breath hitching.
Eve could see it—his hands shaking, a twitch in his jaw like he was fighting something.
The voice came again, colder this time:
"INSIDE. NOW."
And without a word, Kuro nodded.
Stood.
Forced a smile—shaky, weak—and ran inside.
The door slammed shut behind him.
Eve didn't follow.
She didn't have to.
Because when she looked up at the Sakura tree…
Its petals were falling.
But there was no wind.
And its bark—
Was bleeding.
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To be continued…