Dawn seeped reluctantly through the cracked windows, pale light spilling across the ruined store. The night had passed without incident, but the air felt heavier than before, charged with unspoken words and restless emotions.
Saya stirred first. She blinked against the light, her face still pressed to Imura's chest. For a moment she seemed almost peaceful, her brown eyes half-lidded with exhaustion, her lips curved faintly as if clinging to a dream. Then she realized she hadn't let go of him all night and only tightened her hold, burying herself deeper, whispering something inaudible into his shirt.
Rin hadn't slept at all. She sat with her back to the wall, gray eyes ringed with shadows, her posture rigid and guarded. But every so often, she found herself stealing glances toward Imura—glances she quickly tore away from, her cheeks burning as if she'd been caught.
Imura, of course, noticed. He always noticed. The smile tugging at his lips was faint but undeniable.
He shifted slightly, brushing a strand of Saya's hair from her face. She sighed at the touch, her lips parting with a quiet sound of comfort. The display made Rin's stomach clench, her nails biting into her palms as jealousy surged.
She told herself she wasn't jealous. She told herself she hated him, hated his control, hated the way Saya melted against him like she couldn't breathe without him. But every excuse she whispered in her mind only sounded hollower than the last.
When Imura finally spoke, it was as if he had been waiting for the silence to strangle them first.
"You're glaring holes into me, Rin," he said casually, not even looking her way. "If you keep it up, the dead outside might notice."
Her gray eyes snapped to him, fire flashing for a moment. "Don't flatter yourself. I'm not looking at you."
"Then who?" He glanced at her now, his smirk faint but cutting. "Saya? Jealous of her?"
Rin froze. Heat flared in her cheeks, shame and fury mixing until she could barely keep her composure. She pushed herself to her feet suddenly, crossing the room with sharp, angry steps.
"You're insufferable," she spat. "Twisting words, twisting people. You think you're clever, but all you're doing is—"
Her words faltered when he stood. He didn't need to raise his voice. He didn't even need to move quickly. Just rising, just closing the space between them was enough to make her heartbeat stumble.
"Finishing what's already started?" he offered quietly.
Rin's breath caught, her throat working soundlessly. She wanted to deny him again, to throw his smugness back at him, but her body betrayed her like always. She took a step back, but her eyes wouldn't leave his.
Saya shifted behind him, watching with wide, uncertain eyes. She looked like she wanted to speak but bit her lip instead, clutching his sleeve as though afraid he'd leave her if she did.
Imura leaned slightly, close enough that Rin could feel the warmth of him, his voice lowering until it felt like it was meant for her ears alone.
"You've already chosen, Rin. The only thing left is how long you'll fight before you admit it."
Her lips trembled. She forced herself to scoff, to break the spell. "I'd never choose you."
The words rang false even to her own ears.
She turned sharply, retreating again to her corner, her face hot and her chest aching with confusion she couldn't quiet.
Imura didn't pursue. He didn't need to. She was already unraveling herself.
He returned to Saya, who looked up at him with shining eyes, relief washing over her as he settled back down. She pressed against him again, whispering as if she couldn't hold it in any longer.
"Don't leave me, Imura. Not even for a second."
He brushed her hair back gently. "I won't."
Rin's fists clenched tighter across the room.
But Imura's thoughts were elsewhere. His gaze slid briefly to the corner where the auburn-haired survivor had hidden the night before. Now, in the pale light, he saw her more clearly. Slender, dirt-streaked, her torn jacket hanging loosely around her frame. Her sharp eyes met his just for a second before darting away.
Interesting, he thought. She had seen everything last night. She had watched silently, and she hadn't left. That kind of silence wasn't fear—it was calculation.
He let the thought linger. Rin was already halfway his. Saya was bound to him completely. And now another piece was waiting in the dark, quietly circling his orbit.
All he had to do was reach out, and she'd fall in too.
For now, though, he was content to let the pressure build.