Morning crawled in gray and silent, sunlight weak through the cracks of broken walls. The air was damp, thick with the smell of rust and old wood. The night had left them all drained, each girl wearing her exhaustion in different shades.
Saya was the first to stir. Her lashes fluttered, then she sat up slowly, her hand still tangled in Imura's shirt as if afraid he might disappear if she let go. She blinked up at him, cheeks pink, whispering, "You didn't leave me…"
He brushed his fingers against her cheek. "Told you, didn't I? You're mine."
Her smile broke through, small and trembling, but it carried a radiance that filled the dim space. She leaned against him again, content.
Natsumi wasn't so bright. She rubbed her temples, muttering under her breath. Her eyes were hollow, her pride gnawed raw by failure. She stared at the knife in her lap, then at Imura, and then—always, reluctantly—at Saya curled in his arms.
The envy simmered beneath her shame, twisting tighter.
Rin hadn't moved. She sat in the corner, posture sharp as a blade, but her eyes gave her away. Red veins streaked the whites, shadows deepened beneath them. She hadn't slept.
When she finally spoke, her voice was hoarse. "You should stop letting her cling to you like that. It's pathetic."
Saya stiffened, shrinking into Imura.
He tilted his head, gaze sliding to Rin. "Pathetic, or… proof?"
Rin's lip curled. "Proof of what?"
"That no matter how much you fight it, every one of you will end up the same." His voice was calm, level, but it struck like a blade. "Depending on me. Needing me. Breaking without me."
Natsumi flinched, heat crawling up her neck at the words. Saya buried her face in his chest, murmuring, "He's right… he's right…"
Rin's nails dug into her palms until blood beaded. "Not me."
Imura's smile was faint, but it lingered. "You already are."
The words lodged in her chest like a thorn. She wanted to scream no, to prove him wrong, but her silence betrayed her again. The memory of her body moving on its own yesterday—throwing herself between him and death—burned too fresh.
Imura didn't press further. Instead, he shifted his attention, stroking Saya's hair until her breaths evened again. His calm presence spread, filling the air with a quiet dominance that left both Natsumi and Rin restless in different ways.
The day dragged in uneventful hours. They rationed food, scavenged nearby rooms, reinforced barricades. Every action seemed ordinary, but beneath it, the tension simmered.
Natsumi caught herself watching him too often, chewing her lip until it bled. Saya followed him like a shadow, every step tethered to his. And Rin—Rin tried to keep her distance, tried to wall herself off, but her eyes betrayed her each time they flicked toward him, raw with a mixture of fury and something she refused to name.
By nightfall, the cracks were wider than ever.
When Saya drifted off against his shoulder again, Imura's gaze lifted across the dim firelight. His eyes found Rin, unflinching, pinning her where she sat.
This time, she didn't look away.
The silence stretched taut between them. Her chest rose and fell too fast, her fists trembling against her knees.
Imura's lips curved, faint and inevitable.
"You'll break soon."
The words landed like a whisper of truth, heavy and undeniable.
Rin's eyes burned, her throat tight. She wanted to spit venom, to deny it. But no sound came.
Her silence was the only answer.
And Imura knew.