She hasn't changed.
But something between them has.
And a woman knows when silence isn't empty wind but the breeze before a storm.
Afternoon.
School's over. Grey skies.
Yuriko stands beneath the school's awning, an umbrella in her hand.
Her black hair tied neatly half‑up, blazer still buttoned, red ribbon hanging just so.
Acxell walks out through the main doors.
Blazer unbuttoned. Hands in pockets. Face… blank as always.
"Acxell."
"Hmm?"
"Walk home with me?"
"What if I say no?"
"I'd still walk beside you."
"Heh."
They walk slowly.
Yuriko holds the umbrella, but Acxell drifts just outside its cover.
Rain dampens his shoulder — as if he doesn't care.
Yuriko notices. She doesn't comment.
"You okay?"
"Why? Do I look not okay?"
"You're quiet."
"I'm always quiet."
"Yeah… but this quiet's different."
Acxell stops. Looks at her.
"You psychic or something? You can tell kinds of silence?"
Yuriko smiles.
"Women aren't psychic. We're just sensitive."
He snorts and keeps walking — but this time he steps fully under the umbrella.
Yuriko smiles again. Says nothing. But inside, something stirs.
He hasn't changed. But I know he's starting to feel things he doesn't want to admit.
A few steps later:
"You still see her?"
(She doesn't say the name. But she means Selena.)
Acxell answers slowly.
"If I say yes?"
Yuriko doesn't stop.
"If she falls first… I won't blame you.
But if you fall first… I'll break that system myself."
Acxell gives a small smile — for the first time not a cocky smile, but a knowing one.
"You know, people say love heals."
"But I think… if you love someone like you love a gun—
one day it'll fire back at you."
Yuriko looks at him. Long.
"And I like the sound of gunfire."
They keep walking in the rain.
No promises. No drama.
But each step is heavy.
Because both hearts already know:
Something in the system — or inside themselves — is about to explode.