The sound of rain had softened by the time dawn began to creep through the blinds. Faint streaks of gold filtered across the small apartment and the discarded ropes.
Haruto leaned against the wall, silent, a faint line of dried blood still tracing his temple. His shirt was wrinkled, sleeves rolled, collar loosened — uncharacteristic of the man who usually looked like he'd walked out of a meeting with the devil himself.
But tonight wasn't one of power. It was one of survival.
Shoji was crouched near Yui, checking her pulse. "She's sleeping. Heart rate's normal now. Guess whatever they gave her is wearing off," he murmured.
Haruto gave a curt nod, eyes fixed on her face — pale, still, peaceful in a way that almost hurt to look at. The faint rise and fall of her chest was the only sound that kept him from going insane.
"She doesn't remember what happened, right?" Shoji asked quietly.
"Not yet," Haruto said. His voice was low, rough around the edges — exhaustion and guilt blending into one.
For a long moment, neither spoke.
The city outside began to wake up — cars honking distantly, wind rustling through the open vent, a stray cat meowing somewhere on the staircase. Normalcy was creeping in, pretending nothing had happened.
Then Haruto broke the silence.
"Shoji," he said. "Don't tell Masaru about this."
Shoji looked up, surprised. "You serious? He'll kill you if he finds out you brought her back here."
Haruto met his eyes, calm but firm. "He already wanted me to stay away from her. Said she was different. That she didn't belong anywhere near me." His tone softened slightly. "And he was right."
Shoji exhaled.
Haruto's gaze flicked toward Yui again, "She almost died tonight because of me. And I don't want her dragged into my world anymore."
Shoji frowned, leaning back against the couch. "You think Masaru will let that slide? He's been keeping an eye on her since day one."
"He doesn't need to know," Haruto replied. "As far as he's concerned, Yui's just another student. Keep it that way."
Shoji gave a wry smirk. "And you're trusting me to guard her? The guy who can barely guard his wallet?"
Haruto's lips curved faintly. "I'm trusting you because I know you'll do it."
They both fell silent again. Yui shifted slightly in her sleep, mumbling something incoherent. Shoji glanced at her, then at Haruto, curiosity flickering in his eyes.
"You like her," he said suddenly, grinning.
Haruto's expression didn't change. "Don't start."
"I'm just saying," Shoji chuckled, "You don't drive through half the city bleeding from your head for just anyone."
Haruto sighed, rubbing his temples. "It's not like that."
"Then what is it like?" Shoji asked, leaning forward. "You could've sent me or the men. You didn't. You went yourself. So yeah, maybe you don't like her — maybe it's something else. But something's there."
Haruto didn't answer. He simply stared at Yui again, the tension in his jaw the only betrayal of his thoughts.
Shoji softened, realizing he'd touched a nerve. "Masaru's not wrong, you know. You and her… you're opposites. She's all light. You're—well—"
"Darkness?" Haruto said dryly, one brow raised.
"I was going to say 'difficult,' but yeah, that works too," Shoji laughed, scratching his neck.
Haruto's faint smirk returned, fleeting but real.
Shoji stood. "I'll grab something to drink. You look like hell."
"I feel worse around you," Haruto muttered.
"And I feel great around you," Shoji laughed off.
As Shoji disappeared into the kitchen, Haruto pushed away from the wall and approached Yui's couch. He crouched beside her, his movements careful, quiet — like he was afraid his presence alone might break her again.
Her fingers were curled around something — small and metallic. Curiosity tugged at him.
Gently, he opened her palm.
It was the tiny metal charm from her bracelet — the one he'd had engraved, with his initials.
The letters gleamed faintly in the morning light: H.K.
He froze.
For a moment, he just stared, trying to understand why she would hold onto something like that. Why him, of all people?
Then Yui murmured in her sleep, her voice soft but trembling.
"H-Haruto… w-will come to save me…"
He blinked, his chest tightening unexpectedly.
Why did she say that? Why believe it?
His mind drifted back — the night she'd defended him when everyone else avoided him, the way she'd looked at him without fear, even when she should've run.
"Why does she trust me?" he whispered to no one. "When no one else does?"
The question hung in the air like smoke.
He wanted to look away, but he couldn't. Because for the first time in years, someone had believed he wasn't just the monster people painted him as. And that terrified him more than anything.
Shoji came back with two cans of beer, breaking the moment. He tossed one at Haruto. "Catch."
Haruto caught it effortlessly, popping the tab with one hand.
Shoji plopped onto the floor beside him. "So, the infamous Haruto Kuroya actually bleeds, huh? Never thought I'd see the day."
"Keep talking," Haruto said, eyes still fixed on the charm in his hand. "And you'll see me bleed you instead."
Shoji laughed. "This is the Kuroya I know."
For a while, they just sat there — two men who'd seen too much, surrounded by the quiet hum of an apartment that still smelled faintly of fear and antiseptic.
Shoji tilted his head, studying his friend. "You ever think of quitting all this?"
Haruto took a long sip of beer. "Every day."
"So why don't you?"
He smirked. "Because the moment I quit, everything I've done means nothing."
Shoji sighed. "You sound like an old man."
"I feel like one."
They both laughed quietly. The kind of laughter that wasn't happy — just human.
Shoji leaned back against the table, stretching. "Remember when we were kids? You'd get into fights with everyone, and I'd be the one patching you up afterward?"
Haruto gave a soft grunt of amusement. "You were terrible at it."
"Still am," Shoji said, raising his beer. "To bad habits."
Haruto clinked his can against Shoji's. "To worse friends."
They both drank.
For a moment, it almost felt like peace.
The clock ticked past midnight.
Yui stirred again, her eyes fluttering open halfway. She saw blurred silhouettes — Shoji laughing quietly, Haruto sitting beside him, the faint sound of beer cans clinking.
Her lips parted, but no sound came out. She wasn't sure if it was real — or just another dream where Haruto came to save her.
Haruto noticed. He turned slightly, meeting her half-awake gaze.For a second, his expression softened — something rare, fragile.
"Go back to sleep," he said gently.
She did.
Shoji stood up after a while, stretching his arms. "I'll wash up before we crash. You good here?"
Haruto nodded.
Shoji vanished into the washroom, the sound of running water filling the air.
Haruto leaned back against the couch, finishing his beer, eyes drifting to the window.The sky had gone darker again — clouds swallowing what little light the city had left.
He looked down at Yui one more time.
She was still holding the charm.
Still holding on to him.
He whispered, almost to himself, "You shouldn't trust me, Yui. You really shouldn't…"
But deep down, he wasn't sure if he wanted her to stop.
A sudden ding echoed through the quiet apartment.
Haruto froze.
The doorbell.
He exchanged a glance with the doorway where Shoji's voice came faintly, "Who's that at this hour?"
Haruto stood, every sense sharpening instantly. His hand brushed against the gun holster under his jacket — an instinct.
Another ding.
He glanced once at Yui, still sleeping peacefully, then moved toward the door — silent, deliberate, dangerous again.
The rain had started again outside, tapping against the glass.
Shoji stepped out from the hallway, drying his hair with a towel. "You expecting someone?"
"No," Haruto said.
The third ding sounded — longer this time.
Haruto's jaw tightened. He reached for the handle—