Suddenly, for a moment, the world seemed to shift into an unnatural stillness.
The violent, rhythmic percussion of the rain against her skull vanished, replaced by a strange, localized silence.
Trizha could still hear the storm—the distant, muffled drumming of water on the pavement and the roar of the wind—but it was no longer pouring over her trembling shoulders.
She lifted her head, her gaze crawling upward through the gloom, and noticed a dark canopy of fabric suspended above her.
An umbrella.
Her gaze lowered with agonizing slowness, her breath hitching in her throat, until she found herself paralyzed by shock.
Standing before her was a young man, his frame large and imposing for his age, yet his presence felt remarkably soft.
His eyes, shaped like those of a cat, held a gentle depth, and his short black hair was already slick with stray droplets.
It was him.
The one person who should have been celebrating her downfall.
Nomoro Ketatsuki.
"I said, are you okay?" Nomoro asked once more, his voice steady and calm, cutting through the freezing air like a warm hearth.
Trizha stared up at him, her face a pale mask of bewilderment.
The sheer absurdity of his presence—here, now, in her moment of total ruin—made her feel as though she were hallucinating.
But soon enough, the shock melted into a bitter, stinging shame.
She quickly hid her face against her arms again, tucking herself back into her protective ball, her voice muffled and thick with cold.
"What are you doing here?" she whispered, the words barely audible over the wind.
"I came here for you," Nomoro replied, his tone devoid of any malice. "I came to get you to shelter. It's raining badly, Trizha. You can't stay out here."
"Didn't you remember what I did to you?" Trizha's voice rose, cracking with a jagged edge. "Don't you remember anything?"
"Did what?" Nomoro asked, his expression remaining neutral, almost curious.
"I hurt you!" Trizha screamed, snapping her head up to glare at him. "I hurt you, Nomoro! Badly! I broke you down in front of everyone!"
She stared at his face, her mind flooded with the memory of him being beaten, the look of confusion and pain she had etched onto him with her own hands.
But the guilt had curdled into a self-destructive shield; she was too far gone to care about being comforted.
"That damage I inflicted on you... it was supposed to be my reminder for you to back off," she hissed, her eyes wild and bloodshot. "I did it so you wouldn't have to get hurt by me again! I was protecting you by destroying you!"
"Hurt me or not, it doesn't matter," Nomoro stated, his voice unwavering.
Nomoro reached out his free hand toward her, his fingers open and inviting.
A flicker of genuine hope filled his eyes, a light that Trizha found absolutely repulsive in her current state.
"You'll get sick if you stay here much longer," he said softly. "Come on. Let's get you back to the dorm—"
Before he could finish, Trizha exploded.
She aggressively swatted his hand away with a resounding smack, the force of her movement nearly causing her to stumble.
She unwrapped her arms from her legs and stood up in a frantic, disjointed motion, lunging forward to grab his collar.
"Oh, shut up! Just shut up!" she shrieked, her hot breath misting in the cold air.
She bunched the fabric in her fists and pulled him close, screaming directly into his face while the rain whipped around them.
"What makes you think I deserve consideration? What makes you think I deserve yours?!"
She shoved him away with all the strength her exhausted body could muster, her teeth gritted in a snarl of pure, unadulterated rage and frustration.
Nomoro stumbled back a step but remained remarkably unfazed, his gaze never leaving her.
"Do you even have the slightest idea of what I did to you?" Trizha paced like a caged animal, gesturing wildly. "Heck, do you even remember any of it? Did you realize I put shame on your name when you were already struggling? I did it twice! Twice, Nomoro! All just to make you scram out of my pathetic, toxic existence!"
"None of that matters now," Nomoro said quietly.
"None of it matters?! Bullshit!" Trizha's voice hit a glass-shattering register. "What do you know?! What could you possibly know of what I did while you were away? While you were out there trying to figure out how to apologize for my stupidity and my immaturity?! What do you fucking know?! What do you... what do... ha... hahaha..."
The rage suddenly snapped, collapsing into a high-pitched, maniacal laughter.
Trizha covered her eyes with the palm of her hand, her body racking with tremors as she completely lost her grip on reality.
"Alright, fine! I'll tell you everything since you're so clueless!" she cried out between gasps of hysterical laughter. "Since you're so desperate to be a saint, let me tell you what kind of monster I really am!"
"I always go out there looking for friends when I know I'll just end up breaking them in the end!" she shouted into the storm. "I act like I care for people when I'm really just using them as props for my own ego! I crave attention like a drug, but I never give a damn about theirs! I act like I'm the best in the world, like I'm some goddess, when I'm nothing but a hollow shell! I blame my mistakes on strangers who did nothing but support me! I push people away so they don't have to see how ugly I am, even when they just want to help! I accepted my own lies, expecting it to be fine, but it wasn't! I thought I could move on just because the conflict was 'lost,' but it's not gone! It's never gone because you're still here pestering and bothering me with my stupid, pathetic life!!"
She stepped closer, her chest heaving, her face inches from his.
"Tell me, Nomoro! What makes you think I deserve an apology? What makes you think I deserve forgiveness? Or the right to sleep peacefully after the pain I've caused? After the bridges I've burned?! AFTER EVERYTHING—"
"I forgive you," Nomoro said.
The world went silent.
The roaring wind, the pounding rain, the screaming voices in her head—it all vanished behind that single, quiet sentence.
Denial, rage, hatred... they all evaporated, leaving behind nothing but a vast, echoing confusion.
Trizha stepped back, stumbling slightly, and stared directly into Nomoro's eyes.
She searched for a flicker of deceit, a hint of a hidden agenda, or a sarcastic edge.
There was none. His eyes were a clear, open book—a genuine answer to the chaos of her life.
"You... you forgive me?" she stammered, her voice suddenly small and fragile. "Why?"
"Because it was never your intention to hurt me," Nomoro replied.
"But... but I made them beat you!" Trizha argued, her voice trembling. "I watched them kick you until you were down!"
"And yet," Nomoro said, spreading his arms slightly, "here I stand."
"I made everyone hate you! I ruined your reputation! Your name!"
"If it means they believe in what they think I am, then it is what it is," he answered calmly. "Their opinions don't change who I am."
"But I went too far!" Trizha cried, her eyes filling with fresh tears. "I was unreasonable! I was cruel!"
"Then I'll take it for granted in the most reasonable way possible," Nomoro said, his voice softening even further.
"Why?" Trizha sobbed, her knees beginning to buckle. "Why are you taking everything like it's no big deal for you?!"
"Because..." Nomoro whispered.
.
.
.
.
.
"...you were the big deal."
.
.
.
.
.
Trizha gasped, her breath hitching as the weight of his words hit her like a physical force.
All this time... she had been the priority.
While she was spiraling, while she was destroying herself and everyone else, he had seen the girl behind the "Influencer."
Nomoro looked down at her, his expression as soft as silk.
His eyes showed an absolute acknowledgement of every scar, every lie, and every mistake she had made.
He watched as the last of her defenses crumbled, and Trizha fell to her knees in the mud, sobbing into her hands with a violence that shook her entire frame.
It took a long time for the storm inside her to pass.
When the sobs finally turned into quiet, shuddering gasps, she spoke.
Her tone was a fragile mix of uncertainty and the first hint of relief she had felt in years.
"Do I really... do I really deserve it that badly?" she asked, her voice cracking. "Even after I treated the whole world like garbage?"
"That's right," Nomoro said. "And I get it."
He stepped closer, closing the distance between them.
His eyes never left her miserable, rain-soaked form—a body that had carried the burden of a thousand lies for far too long.
"All this time... you've been crushed by your own actions," Nomoro said, kneeling down in the wet grass beside her. "You made reckless decisions because you were terrified, thinking you had no other choice. You thought the 'stage' was all you had."
Trizha lifted her head, her face a raw map of vulnerability and regret.
She recalled the faces of Wyne and Margaret, the way the people had slowly ebbed away like a receding tide.
She watched the petals fall from her internal flower, leaving her bare.
She looked up at the man who was offering her a way back.
"And because of that fear," Nomoro continued, "you started making choices that made you sick. You hurt everyone around you because you wanted to push them away before they could leave you first. You pretended you were already alone so the abandonment wouldn't hurt as much. You even left yourself behind... but, Trizha, that's fine. It's okay."
He extended his arm, spreading his fingers slowly toward her.
Trizha stared at his hand, then up at his face, and then back to his hand.
Her tears had finally stopped flowing; the weight that had been crushing her chest slowly began to lift as she reached out.
"If you can find a way to forgive yourself for being scared," Nomoro said as their fingers finally met, "then I'm sure everyone else can do the same...starting with me."
In that moment, a fourth and final realization bloomed in her heart.
The last petal had never left her.
In her blindness, in her panic, she had never even realized it was there.
It had stayed through the fire, through the rain, and through the hate.
It was the petal she had tried hardest to pluck, yet it was the one that held her together.
She gripped his hand, her fingers locking with his.
"This conflict started with us," Nomoro said, pulling her gently toward the shelter of the umbrella, "so let's end it here. It's time to move toward new routes, Trizha."
"Together."