The night stretched endless. Wind pressed against the broken walls, carrying the sound of far-off howls and the faint drip of water through shattered concrete. The lantern sputtered, its flame unsteady, shadows crawling across the girls' faces like silent hunters.
Saya slept pressed tightly against Imura's chest, her breath warm and shallow. Her hand twitched even in dreams, fingers curling tighter into his shirt whenever the wind moaned. She whispered his name in her sleep, fragile, devoted.
Natsumi pretended to rest nearby, but her half-lidded eyes betrayed her. Every little sound from Saya, every casual touch from Imura, dug under her skin until jealousy burned hotter than shame. Her knife sat forgotten at her side, her arms wrapped around her knees like armor that wasn't strong enough.
But Rin… Rin hadn't slept. Not last night. Not tonight. The storm inside her body made the idea impossible. She sat stiff-backed in her corner, knees drawn close, eyes red and raw from tears she had sworn never to shed. Her arms hugged herself tight, but it wasn't enough to hold her shaking still.
Her head replayed his words on a loop.Stand up. Walk away. Prove it.And she couldn't.
Her chest still ached with the shame of it, her mind torn between fury and something else—something terrifying she didn't dare name.
When Imura's gaze shifted toward her across the flickering lantern glow, she felt it like fire against her skin. Calm. Steady. Unflinching.
"You haven't moved since last night," he murmured.
His voice was low, quiet enough that only she caught it.
Her teeth clenched. "And what if I haven't?"
"Then you're waiting," he replied simply. "For me."
Her nails dug into her palms. She wanted to scream, to spit venom. But the words stuck.
His hand slid slowly down Saya's back as she stirred in sleep. Not possessive, not showy—just calm, inevitable. His presence filled the room without needing to rise.
Natsumi turned her face away, biting her lip until it bled. She hated how easily he bent them. Hated how her body burned in ways her pride couldn't smother.
But Rin… Rin's walls crumbled grain by grain.
Imura didn't speak again. He didn't need to. The silence carried his weight, pressing down until Rin felt like her chest would break open.
Finally, she moved.
Her body shook as she pushed up from the wall, each step toward him a war she couldn't win. Her knees nearly buckled, her throat closed tight, but she walked anyway—pulled by something heavier than pride.
Natsumi's eyes widened. She sat up straighter, but she didn't speak.
Rin stopped in front of him, fists clenched at her sides, shaking so violently it looked like she might fall apart.
Her voice cracked when she forced it out. "If I… sit… it doesn't mean anything."
Imura's gaze didn't waver. "It means everything."
Her breath shuddered.
Slowly, painfully, Rin sank to her knees in front of him. She didn't meet his eyes. She couldn't. Her fists pressed to her thighs, her head bowed, trembling.
Saya stirred faintly in his lap, whimpering, but still didn't wake.
Natsumi pressed a hand over her mouth, jealousy and disbelief tearing through her chest.
Rin's entire body shook as she whispered, broken and barely audible, "I… can't… walk away."
The words fell like chains snapping.
Imura reached out. Not to force, not to drag—just to rest his hand gently on her hair. His fingers brushed through the strands slowly, deliberately, an anchor in the storm.
Rin flinched—but she didn't pull back.
Her breath hitched sharply, tears sliding down her face. She bowed lower, shame and surrender spilling together, her voice breaking.
"…damn you…"
Imura's hand lingered, steady, certain. "You'll thank me later."
Rin's sobs shook her shoulders, but she leaned—just slightly—into his touch. The smallest crack, but enough.
Enough for her to know she was already his.
And enough for him to know she would never escape.
The silence that followed was heavy. Saya whimpered his name in her dreams. Natsumi dug her nails into her palms, caught between fury and hunger.
And Rin, broken and trembling at his feet, finally crossed the line she swore she never would.