The night air still smelled faintly of rain when Yui unlocked the door of her small apartment. Her fingers trembled slightly as she turned on the lights — the yellow glow flickered once before steadying.
She checked her phone. One new message.
Shoji:Got caught up with something. Might be late tonight. Don't wait for me.
"C-come in," she said after a pause. "At least let me thank you properly."
Inside, Riku sat by the table while Yui fetched the first-aid kit. His knuckles were scraped from the earlier fight. When she returned, he started to protest — but she was already kneeling beside him.
"This will sting," she warned softly, cleaning the wound with antiseptic.
He didn't flinch. Instead, he watched her — the way her brow furrowed in concentration, the tiny wrinkle forming between her eyes.
She blew lightly over his hand to cool the burn of the antiseptic. For a fleeting second, something inside Riku twisted.
He'd always thought of her as his brother's quiet classmate — harmless, ordinary. But in this stillness, with her gentle touch and tired eyes, something warm spread through his chest, unfamiliar and unwelcome.
He looked away quickly.
"It's not a big deal," he muttered.
"Still," Yui said, softly but firmly. "You got hurt because of me."
When she finished bandaging his hand, he stood up abruptly. "I should go."
She looked up, surprised. "It's late. You could stay for longer, Shoji can drive you home safely—"
"No." He shook his head, a faint smile at the corner of his lips. "If I stay longer, I might not want to leave."
And before she could respond, he turned and left — the door clicking quietly behind him.
For a few moments, silence filled the room again.
Yui leaned against the door, exhaling. The warmth from his jacket still lingered in the air, faint but comforting.
She sighed, sinking onto the couch. The clock ticked quietly in the background, each second dragging a little longer than it should.
Ten minutes passed.
She was just beginning to tidy up the small table when the doorbell rang again.
Her heart leapt — she smiled faintly. "Shoji, finally," she whispered under her breath, brushing her hair aside.
But this time, there wasn't just the bell. Three sharp knocks followed — heavy, deliberate.
"Coming!" she called, rushing to open it. "Why are you—"
The words died in her throat.
It wasn't Shoji.
It was the three men from before — the same ones who had cornered her earlier. But now, they were barely standing. Their faces were swollen, blood streaking down their temples. One of them fell forward, groaning, before collapsing entirely at her feet.
Yui's breath hitched. She stumbled back, eyes wide with horror.
And then—A slow clap echoed from the side entrance.
From the shadows of the hallway, Haruto appeared.
He looked nothing like the composed boy she'd seen at school. His shirt sleeves were rolled up, smeared with blood. His expression wasn't cold or angry — it was disturbingly calm, his lips curved into a faint smile as he stepped closer.
"See her face properly," he said lightly, as if this were some cruel joke. "Oh— wait. My mistake." He tilted his head toward the man lying nearest to her. "I broke his jaw."
Yui's body froze. Her knees gave out as she backed into the wall, unable to tear her eyes away from the scene. Her voice barely escaped her lips. "Wh… what did you do…?"
Haruto stopped a few feet away from her. The smirk disappeared — replaced by a look she couldn't read. Something flickered behind his eyes, something dangerously human.
He crouched down to her level, his shadow stretching across her face. His hands—bloodied, trembling slightly—reached out and touched her cheek.
"Are you okay?" he asked softly.
Yui flinched, tears springing to her eyes. "D-Don't touch me—"
"Shh." His tone was almost tender, a twisted echo of concern. "They followed you, didn't they? They won't anymore."
He turned his head slightly. "Clean up fast," he ordered to someone behind him. Two suited men stepped into view, bowing briefly before dragging the bodies away with silent efficiency.
Yui's hands shook as she pressed herself tighter to the wall. Her mind screamed at her to move, to run—but her legs wouldn't obey.
She looked at him—at the faint smear of blood across his jawline, the cold glint in his eyes—and for the first time, she didn't know if she was afraid of him or for him.
As the men started hauling the injured thugs out, one of them stirred suddenly. The weakest of the three—his face barely recognizable—gripped a knife he'd hidden under his jacket.
Yui saw it first.
"Haruto!" she screamed.
He turned just in time to see the man lunge.
Without thinking, Yui shoved Haruto out of the way. The movement was instinctive — raw panic, not bravery.
The blade slashed through the air, missing her throat by inches — and stopped.
Haruto had caught it. With his bare hand.
The sharp edge bit deep into his palm. Blood ran down his wrist in a bright, steady stream—but his expression didn't change.
Instead, he smiled—that same unsettling smirk that never reached his eyes.
"You should've stayed down," he said quietly to the man. "Now look what you made me do."
He twisted his wrist sharply—the knife clattered to the ground. The man collapsed with a strangled cry as Haruto's men rushed in again.
Yui stared at Haruto — his hand still bleeding freely, his breathing uneven.
She whispered, "Why… why would you—"
He looked at her then. For a heartbeat, his mask slipped — something raw flickered in his gaze.He didn't answer. He didn't have to.
He simply walked past her, his shoulder brushing lightly against hers, leaving a faint streak of blood on her sleeve.
"Lock your doors next time," he said quietly, almost to himself.
"W-wait, right there," Yui muttered, all her strength as she held Haruto's hand. She quickly grabbed her wallet as she led the way.
Haruto's blood followed them, while he looked like a lost puppy, holding onto Yui's warm hands.
She instantly booked a taxi, "Don't worry, we will reach the hospital soon."
Haruto's smirk was replaced with something he had not felt in many years. He saw her through his blurry eyes.
"Y-Yui-"