Saint Lycoris Academy — 09:05 hoursCondition: light rain; disciplinary summons pending
Morning comes dressed in routine.Prayers. Breakfast. Uniform check.Every movement the same — except for the blood memory stitched into my sleeve, a stain no soap can hide.
The Academy doesn't punish mistakes; it repurposes them.By noon, the incident has already been rewritten as routine maintenance.The priest's death archived as Divine Correction.
Only Mother Violet knows the truth.She smiles while signing my report.
"You hesitated," she says."Only for a moment.""One moment is all it takes to grow roots in sin."
Her hand brushes my cheek like a blessing, but her eyes sharpen like broken glass.
"Next time, don't let kindness interfere."
Kindness.She says it like a disease.
Diary Segment
[Fragment Log #06 — Evaluation Debrief]Observation: Subject Kaido, Ren — witness survived encounter.Instructor Response: Emotional contamination confirmed.Remedy: immersion therapy (suppression sequence).Effectiveness: pending.
Personal Note: The word "kindness" now triggers pulse irregularity.
Afternoon lectures: Human Behavior and Ethics.The irony is a blade's edge polished thin.
The chalk scrapes against the board while rain whispers against the glass.Rows of students copy scripture and theory — the anatomy of obedience written in perfect lines.
I can feel him two rows behind me.Ren.He hasn't spoken since that night.He doesn't need to.
Every time I blink, I see the reflection of my blade grazing his throat.
The instructor drones without emotion:
"To be kind is to be weak.Compassion creates deviation."
Ren's pencil stills mid-note.He looks up.Our eyes meet.Just once.
My pulse spikes.The voices wake.
Internal Echo — Persona Clash
[Tactical Angel]: "Distance. He's a liability."[Crimson Doll]: "He's adorable when he pretends not to stare."[Tactical Angel]: "Terminate the connection."[Crimson Doll]: "Or kiss it. Same difference."[Tactical Angel]: "Focus."[Crimson Doll]: "I am focusing. On him."
The voices layer over one another until the words distort — overlapping frequencies pressing static against the inside of my skull.
I grip my pencil tighter, knuckles whitening.It snaps.The sound is small, but it feels like glass breaking in a cathedral.
After class, the corridors breathe their usual hymns.Students file out under the rhythm of bells.I step into the courtyard alone.
The rain has thinned, soft as confession.Ren waits by the walkway, holding an umbrella — the same navy one he carried that night.His expression calm, unafraid, as if he didn't watch me kill someone under candlelight.
I should walk past him.I don't.
REN: "You missed lunch."KANA: "I wasn't hungry."REN: "You're human. You get hungry."KANA: "That's still up for debate."REN: "I saw you last night. You were scared."KANA: "No. I was efficient."REN: "You were shaking."
He says it softly, like a truth he has no right to speak.And for a heartbeat, the static in my head fades.
The rain drips between us like a metronome ticking down to something neither of us can name.
Diary Fragment (Later That Night)
[Fragment Log #06-B]Mission follow-up: Target erased. Witness stable.Emotional deviation: persists.
Possible cure: distance.Possible outcome: failure.
Handwritten addition:He said I was scared.He was wrong.I was alive.
Midnight.The Reflection Room.
Students kneel before icons, heads bowed.I kneel before silence.
My body moves with ritual precision, but my mind does not obey.Inside my chest, two voices whisper like dueling prayers.
[Tactical Angel]: "Stay still. Don't think. Don't feel."[Crimson Doll]: "He called you alive."[Tactical Angel]: "It's manipulation."[Crimson Doll]: "It's warmth."[Tactical Angel]: "It's a threat."[Crimson Doll]: "It's love."
The clash forms a crack in my calm.Somewhere inside that fracture, something faint and human laughs — my own voice.It terrifies me more than death ever has.
System Log (Unstable)
LYCORIS-UNIT: NOIR — Deviation AlertEmotional collision detected between subroutines [Protection] and [Attachment].Severity: escalating.Neural synchronization error: 7.4%.Recommendation: reconditioning pending.Override Response: declined.
After meditation, I return to the dorm.The halls smell faintly of rain and wax — devotion burned down to smoke.On the floor outside my door lies an umbrella.
Old. Navy blue.The same one.
No note. Just the gesture.
I stare at it for a long time, unsure whether it's apology or invitation.Either way, I pick it up.The handle is still damp, still warm.
Mother Violet said kindness was a disease.If that's true, I think I'm already infected.
End of Diary #6 — "A Lesson in Kindness."