The rain wouldn't stop.
It spilled from the sky in thick sheets, soaking through Ren Tsurugi's uniform until it clung to his slender frame like a second skin. The school bell had long since fallen silent, and now the courtyard was mostly empty—just puddles, shadows, and the sound of his own breathing. He stood alone beneath the cracked stone arch that marked the exit of Kamiyama Academy, his fingers curled tight around the frayed strap of his bag.
No umbrella. No coat. No reason to wait.
And yet, he did.
Students had passed him earlier, some whispering, most ignoring. He was used to that. Ren Tsurugi was the quiet one, the boy with the pale eyes and gloves always pulled tight over his hands, even in the sweltering summer. A mystery wrapped in silence. Some said he was cursed. Others said he'd lost his voice after the death of his parents.
They were all wrong. His voice still worked just fine.
He just didn't want to be heard.
His phone buzzed once in his pocket. A text from Kyouko.
Where are you? Home is not safe right now. Come straight.
Ren stared at the message for a long time before slipping the phone back inside his jacket. She was always like this—cold, calculating, sharp as the blades she trained with every night. Since their parents' murder, she'd become obsessed with the hunt, with finding the thing responsible. She thought it would save them. Fix them. It hadn't.
Ren felt something shift in the air.
A prickle crawled up the back of his neck, slow and deliberate. He turned his head slightly. The rain blurred everything into grayscale smudges—but there, across the street, beneath a broken lamp flickering weakly through the downpour, stood a boy.
White hair like fresh snow. Eyes a deep, unnatural gold.
The stranger stood impossibly still, one hand in his pocket, the other hanging by his side, as if he had been standing there for hours… waiting.
For him.
Their eyes met.
Ren couldn't breathe.
It wasn't fear. It wasn't even curiosity. It was something older. Deeper. A sensation like déjà vu wrapped in dread. Like meeting a ghost you didn't know you missed until it was too late.
The boy tilted his head. Rain streamed down his cheek, yet his expression never shifted.
And then, like a mirage, he was gone.
No sound. No blur of motion. Just absence.
Ren stumbled backward, heart pounding so hard it echoed in his ears. He looked up and down the street—nothing but fog and rain. He crossed the road slowly, careful with each step, searching for footprints or shadows or signs that the boy had been real.
There were none.
Only that feeling remained. That horrible, aching feeling of being seen too deeply.
He ran the rest of the way home.
The streets twisted through narrow alleys and broken lamplight. The air reeked of wet pavement and something sweeter—something metallic that stuck to his tongue. He didn't look behind him, though he felt watched the entire time.
By the time he reached the front gate of the Tsurugi house, he was shaking.
The house was quiet, tucked between old trees and crumbling walls, a forgotten corner of the city where no neighbors asked questions. A perfect place for a hunter's family to hide. A perfect place to be haunted.
He stepped inside. Shut the door. Locked it twice.
The silence inside was heavier than the storm outside.
Kyouko was in the living room, sitting cross-legged on the old carpet, cleaning a pair of curved daggers by candlelight. Her dark hair was tied back, face smeared with dried blood—hers or someone else's, Ren didn't ask. A half-empty bottle of antiseptic sat beside her. The light flickered in her sharp eyes.
"You're late," she said without looking up. Her tone was clipped, professional. "I told you to come straight home."
"I saw someone," he said, voice soft and unsure.
That made her pause. Her eyes flicked up. "Who?"
"I... I don't know. A boy. He was just... standing there. Across the street."
"Hunter?"
"No. I think—" Ren swallowed. "I think he was a vampire."
The blade in her hands stopped moving.
"What did he do?"
"Nothing."
"Nothing?"
"He just looked at me. And then he was gone."
Her jaw clenched. The candle flame flickered as she stood.
"Describe him."
Ren hesitated. "White hair. Eyes like... amber, almost red. Young. Maybe our age."
Her expression darkened immediately. "That matches one of the sightings last week. He's been showing up near schools."
"He didn't attack me."
"He doesn't need to. He's watching you."
Ren looked down. "Why?"
"Because you're not like me," Kyouko said quietly. "You're not a hunter. You're... softer."
He flinched at the word.
She knelt in front of him and placed a hand on his shoulder, not gently, but not unkindly either.
"I need you to be careful," she said. "These things—vampires—they're not human. They don't think like we do. They'll use your kindness. Your curiosity. Your silence."
Ren didn't reply.
Because part of him wanted to see the boy again.
Even if it meant bleeding for it.