Haruto stood in front of his mirror in his room, unmoving. The pale morning light spilled across the room, cutting harsh lines over the bandages that trailed his cheek. His reflection looked unfamiliar — too calm, too broken.
His phone buzzed on the nightstand. Shoji.
Shoji: "Are you seriously leaving?"
Haruto stared at the screen. His jaw tightened.
Haruto: "Great. I had sensed this would be coming."
His fingers hovered above the next reply, but no words came.
Leaving. The word lingered like a bitter taste.
Haruto hurled the phone across the room. It slammed into the wall and fell, leaving a faint crack on the screen. He pressed both hands against his face, muffling a shout that ripped from his throat.
"Damn it!"
For the first time in years, he wanted to destroy everything — the room, the silence, himself. But when he finally pulled his hands away, his expression was ice.
"Enough," he muttered.
He buttoned his uniform, adjusted his collar, and tied the bandage around his knuckles tighter. The mirror reflected not a student, but something colder. A shadow in the shape of Haruto Kuroya.
At the School
By the time he reached the gates, whispers had already spread like wildfire.
"Did you see the article?"
"It's in the morning paper— him and Izumi, sitting close together."
"Look at those bandages… did he fight again?"
Phones flickered. Screens glowed. Every step he took was a trigger for another whisper.
Haruto walked through them without a glance. His strides were measured, deliberate — the kind that demanded silence even from those who wanted to mock him.
Still, the photos followed him — on lockers, on desks, even taped near the bulletin board: A shot of him and Izumi at Hotel Vigtra's lobby. Her hand almost brushing his, their faces too close.
A perfect scandal. A perfect distraction.
Yui stood near the classroom door, watching him.
Her heart clenched. He looked… different. Detached. Like all traces of the boy who smiled faintly when she handed him spicy food had vanished overnight.
She took a step forward, clutching her backpack tightly. "H-Haruto—"
He kept walking.
"Wait—!" She moved in front of him, blocking his way. Her hands trembled, but she stood firm. "Haruto, we need to talk—"
He stopped.
The air shifted.
Students around them turned, slowing their pace, sensing the tension crawling between them. Haruto's eyes lifted — dark, unreadable, empty of warmth.
"Talk?" he echoed, his voice dangerously low. "About what?"
"About last night. You— you disappeared. Everyone's acting weird, and—"
Before she could finish, he grabbed her wrist. The force made her gasp. In an instant, he pinned her against the wall. The thud echoed down the hallway.
Gasps rippled through the crowd.
"Haruto— it's hurting—"
He leaned in, his face inches from hers. The smile that curved his lips wasn't playful — it was fractured, trembling between anger and despair.
"What do you think of yourself?" he whispered. "You think you're special? That you can walk into my life and fix what's been broken?"
"Haruto, please—"
"You know what I wonder when I see you?" he said, voice low but sharp. "That beautiful neck of yours… if I choked you, how fascinating it would be."
The words froze the air. Yui's eyes widened, her breath caught halfway between disbelief and pain.
Haruto's grip tightened — not enough to truly harm her, but enough to make her wince. Enough for the students to look at each other in shock.
"Haruto, stop…" her voice cracked. "You're hurting me."
For a moment, something flickered in his eyes — something like regret. But then, he laughed.
A hollow, unhinged laugh that tore through the hallway. Students stepped back. Some whispered. Some filmed.
He laughed until his breath shook, until even he couldn't tell if it was anger or madness spilling from him.
Yui stared at him — not with fear, but with heartbreak. This wasn't the Haruto who had once shielded her from harm. This was someone else — someone running from himself.
When he finally stopped laughing, she whispered, "Why are you doing this?"
Haruto tilted his head slightly, feigning confusion. "Doing what?"
"Acting like this! You're not—"
"Not what? The devil, they said, I am?" He smiled bitterly. "But, I'm the devil!"
Tears welled in her eyes. "You don't mean that."
But Haruto's smile faltered then — barely, but it did. His hand dropped from her wrist to his side.
He wanted to tell her everything. About his father. About the lie. About the weight of the truth that was crushing him from within. He wanted to tell her she was the only one keeping him sane.
But instead, he turned away.
Because if he stayed, she'd break, maybe she won't see her like, she sees him now.
He took a step back, then another. The students parted as he passed — silent, uncertain whether to pity or fear him.
Yui stood frozen. Her fingers brushed over the skin on her wrist, red from his grip. Her heart felt heavy — too heavy to carry.
Then slowly, she reached for the necklace around her neck — the charm that had guided Haruto to her, that carried his initials. The last piece of him she believed in.
She pulled it off. The chain clinked softly against her fingers.
Haruto stopped mid-stride when he heard the sound.
Yui's hand trembled as she looked at it one last time — the silver catching the light, the memory of his voice echoing, "Good thing you left a clue for me."
Then she threw it.
The necklace hit his face lightly and fell to the floor, skidding across the tiles until it stopped near his shoe.
The hallway went silent. Even the students filming lowered their phones.
Haruto turned his head slowly, eyes locked on the small charm at his feet. The tiny engraving — HK — glinted once before going still.
Yui's voice was soft but sharp as glass. "I believed in you, Haruto. Even when you scared me. Even when everyone warned me. But maybe… I was the fool."
She turned and walked away, her footsteps echoing down the corridor.
Haruto didn't move.
For a long moment, he stood there — shoulders rigid, breathing shallow. The laughter that had once filled the hallway was gone. The mask slipped. The arrogance faded. What was left was a hollow silence.
He crouched down slowly, picking up the necklace. His thumb brushed over the initials, stained faintly with the dust from the floor.
His reflection stared back at him in the polished surface of the charm — a stranger's eyes.
He closed his fist around it until the edges dug into his skin.
Around him, whispers began again, softer now, more cautious.
"Did he just—"
"She threw it at him…"
"What's wrong with Kuroya?"
But Haruto didn't hear any of it.
He stood, still gripping the necklace, and looked toward the direction Yui had gone.
For the first time, there was no smirk. No arrogance. No shield. Just silence — and the faint, stinging burn in his chest.
His lips parted, a whisper slipping out before he could stop it."Yui…"
But she was already gone.