When a buried voice finally breaks,
it's not always crying for help.
Sometimes… it's begging to be claimed.
Rain fell slow—
not heavy,
but enough to paint the school's concrete walkways in silver.
Classes were over.
The buildings lay quiet.
The sky hung low.
And somewhere behind the music block, in a forgotten storage room—
the first real scream of Yuriko Hanekawa was born.
"Stop looking at me like that!"
Her hand lashed out, knocking a stack of books off the shelf—
they hit the floor with a violent thud.
Her chest rose and fell erratically.
Her eyes wide.
Face flushed.
Not with anger—
but with everything else she didn't know how to name.
Acxell stood two meters away.
Unblinking.
Unshaken.
He'd chosen this room.
This moment.
He knew her tension had reached the limit.
He had simply opened the door.
"I know the way you look at me!" Yuriko snapped again, her voice rising and dropping like a melody she never learned to sing but had always heard in her bones.
"You watch me like I'm one of your experiments!
You—
You just showed up, from nowhere, looking at me like you know me—
and you barely speak more than two damn sentences—
so why the hell…"
She faltered.
Voice cracking mid-thought.
"…why can't I stop thinking about you?"
[SYSTEM ALERT: EMOTIONAL FLASHPOINT REACHED]
SUBJECT: YURIKO HANEKAWA
MENTAL WALL BREACHED – SUBCONSCIOUS SUBMISSION TRIGGERED
OPTIONS: A – ENGAGE | B – RETREAT | C – OVERWHELM
Acxell didn't move.
Option C was too soon.
He wasn't a sprinter.
He was a painter—
and she was still becoming his canvas.
He chose A – Engage.
He stepped forward.
Slow.
Silent.
No dramatic gesture.
No forced emotion.
And when he stood close enough for her to feel the shift in air, he finally spoke.
"I don't look at you because I want to know who you are."
His voice lowered—
not seductive,
but precise, like a blade gliding beneath the ribs of denial.
"I look at you… because you don't know who you are."
He leaned slightly in, raising a hand.
Not to touch—
but to point.
To her eyes.
"And your eyes…"
"…are begging someone to search."
Yuriko froze.
Her lips parted—
but no sound came.
And then—
her knees gave in.
Not because she was weak.
But because she had nothing left to hold on to.
"Don't," she whispered, tears rising.
"Don't make me feel like I can trust you…"
Acxell lowered himself—crouching until their eyes were level.
"I don't want your trust."
"I want you to look at me… and choose not to run."
[SYSTEM TRIGGER: INTIMACY FIELD DETECTED]
SUBJECT VULNERABILITY: CRITICAL
HEART RATE SYNC: 78%
SKILL AVAILABLE: VOICE BIND – YOUR WORDS LINGER IN THEIR EMOTIONAL CORE.
He still didn't touch her.
But his voice wrapped around her like an invisible embrace.
And then—
Her hand, trembling, reached out.
Fingers clutching at the fabric of his sleeve.
Not to lean.
Not to beg.
But to confirm he was real.
To ask, without words:
"If I fall now… will you let me go?"
Acxell didn't answer.
He just let her hold on.
And in that silence…
she heard the answer loudest of all.
[SYSTEM UPDATE: YURIKO HANEKAWA – SEDUCTION LEVEL 2 REACHED]
EMOTIONAL BOND STRENGTHENED
SKILL TREE EXPANDED
NEW SKILL UNLOCKED: TOUCH ECHO – FIRST PHYSICAL CONNECTION AMPLIFIES EMOTIONAL IMPRINT
Outside, the rain began to fall harder.
Inside the quiet storage room, only two sounds remained—
breath and heartbeat.
And in that small, hidden space between them—
something real began to take root.
Not perfect.
Not sweet.
But undeniable.
And for the first time—
Yuriko didn't want to run.