POV: Sakura Aoyama
The message arrived just after seven.
Sakura had already showered, her uniform folded neatly on the chair by her bed, hair still damp as she sat at the small table near the window with her laptop open.
Homework lay half-finished in front of her—not because it was difficult, but because her thoughts kept drifting.
Her phone vibrated.
Karaoke. Tonight. Club thing. You're coming.
She stared at the screen.
Another message followed almost immediately.
You don't have to sing. Just show up.
She exhaled slowly.
This was how it started.
Not pressure.
Expectation.
She typed back.
Who's going?
A pause.
Photography club. Some others. Ren.
Her fingers hovered.
Outside the school, Ren wasn't a constant presence. That was the point. But every time she stepped beyond the academy gates lately, his orbit intersected with hers again, not by force but by coincidence that felt increasingly deliberate.
Where? she typed.
The address came with a pin.
Downtown.
Bright. Loud. Busy.
Sakura closed her laptop and stood.
She changed clothes—not to impress, not to disappear.
Dark jeans. A simple sweater. Comfortable shoes. Her hair fell loose down her back, black and heavy, framing her pale face.
She studied her reflection briefly.
You can leave at any time.
She locked the door behind her.
The karaoke building was impossible to miss.
Neon signs flickered in layered colors, music pulsing faintly through the walls. Groups of teenagers crowded the entrance, laughing loudly, some already holding drinks in paper cups.
Sakura paused across the street, watching.
This was a different kind of exposure.
At school, attention was controlled.
Here, it was chaotic.
Her phone buzzed.
You made it. Third floor.
She crossed the street and went inside.
The elevator was packed, voices overlapping, mirrors reflecting fragments of faces and movement. Sakura stood near the back, hands loosely at her sides, eyes forward.
The doors opened.
Noise spilled out immediately.
The room was larger than she expected—dim lights, leather couches, a massive screen at the front cycling through music videos.
Keita stood near the machine, animated as always, microphone already in hand.
"You came!" he called when he spotted her.
Several heads turned.
Sakura nodded once and stepped inside.
Ren sat on one of the couches, jacket draped casually over the back, posture relaxed.
He looked different here—not because of his clothes, but because the environment didn't bend around him. People talked over one another. Music drowned out subtle cues.
He looked up when she entered.
Their eyes met briefly.
Then he looked away.
That, too, was intentional.
Sakura took a seat near the end of the couch, leaving space between herself and everyone else. The lights shifted, bathing the room in blue and purple.
Keita launched into a song—something loud, nostalgic, poorly sung. The girls laughed, one of them grabbing a second microphone to join in.
Sakura watched.
This was normal.
She hadn't been around normal in a while.
A drink was pressed into her hand—juice, thankfully. She took a sip and set it down again.
The song ended. Applause followed.
"Your turn!" someone shouted, pointing randomly.
"Not me," Sakura said immediately.
A few people laughed.
Ren leaned forward slightly. "They'll move on if you don't react."
She glanced at him. "You sound experienced."
"I am," he replied.
Another song started. Then another.
The room warmed. Laughter grew louder. People relaxed.
Sakura felt it slowly—the way vigilance dulled when nothing went wrong.
That was when the door opened.
Three unfamiliar boys stepped in.
They weren't from the club.
They didn't belong to Kurotsuki Academy.
They were older. Louder. Dressed casually, confidence spilling into the room without invitation.
"Yo," one of them said, scanning the group.
"This room's lit."
Keita stiffened slightly. "Uh—this is a private—"
"We know," another boy said, grinning. "We were invited."
No one contradicted him.
Sakura felt the shift immediately.
This wasn't school.
There were no teachers to pretend not to see. No prefects to enforce rules.
Ren noticed too.
He straightened subtly, eyes sharpening.
The boys' attention moved quickly, landing on faces, bodies, expressions.
Then one of them saw Sakura.
He slowed.
"Well," he said, smiling broadly. "Didn't expect that."
Sakura's grip tightened faintly around her cup.
"Hey," he continued, stepping closer. "You sing?"
"No," Sakura replied evenly.
"That's okay," he said. "You don't have to be good."
Ren stood.
Not abruptly.
Not aggressively.
Just enough to place himself between them.
"She said no," Ren said calmly.
The boy laughed. "Relax. I'm just talking."
Ren smiled.
Not friendly.
"This isn't a conversation you want," he replied.
The boy studied him for a moment, eyes narrowing. "You her boyfriend or something?"
Sakura opened her mouth.
Ren spoke first.
"No," he said.
That answer surprised her.
"But I'm not patient either."
The boy scoffed. "You think you're scary?"
Ren didn't answer.
He didn't need to.
The room had gone quiet.
Keita stepped in quickly, forced laughter sharp with tension. "Hey, let's not make this weird. We're all just hanging out."
One of the older boys shrugged. "Fine. Your loss."
They backed off—but not far.
They stayed.
Watching.
Sakura exhaled slowly.
She leaned toward Ren. "You didn't have to do that."
"Yes," he replied quietly. "I did."
She studied him. "Why?"
He didn't answer immediately.
"Because," he said finally, "outside the school, the margin for error is smaller."
The music started again, louder this time, as if trying to reclaim the space.
The boys eventually lost interest, drifting out after a few songs, boredom replacing curiosity.
The tension eased.
But it didn't disappear.
Sakura sat back, pulse steadying.
That could have gone worse.
She realized then how thin the line was.
Outside, reputation didn't protect you.
Presence didn't guarantee safety.
People didn't wait for permission.
The karaoke night ended earlier than planned.
People made excuses. Gathered their things. Left in smaller groups.
Sakura stood near the exit, slipping her coat on.
Ren lingered nearby.
"I'm walking," she said before he could speak.
He nodded. "I know."
They stepped outside together anyway.
The night air was cold, sharp enough to clear her head.
Neon lights reflected off wet pavement, traffic humming steadily.
They walked side by side without touching.
"This is why I don't go out much," Sakura said eventually.
"Because of them?" Ren asked.
"Because of myself," she replied. "I forget how exposed things are."
He glanced at her. "You handled it well."
"That doesn't mean I liked it."
His lips curved faintly. "It doesn't have to."
They reached a crosswalk.
The light turned red.
They stopped.
"You didn't say you weren't my boyfriend because you wanted distance," Sakura said quietly. "You said it because it was true."
Ren looked at her fully then.
"Yes."
She nodded. "Good."
The light changed.
She crossed without waiting for him.
Halfway across, her phone vibrated.
She didn't check it until she reached the other side.
You don't owe me anything. But don't mistake that for indifference.
She typed back as she walked.
I don't.
She paused.
Then added:
That's why I'm careful.
She slipped the phone into her pocket and disappeared into the city.
POV: Ren Kurotsuki
The outside world was inefficient.
Too many variables. Too much noise. Too little structure.
Ren stood beneath the streetlight for a moment after Sakura left, hands in his pockets, violet eyes reflecting the city's glow.
At school, he knew where the lines were.
Outside, they blurred.
He hadn't planned to intervene.
He hadn't planned to care.
That was the problem.
Ren turned and walked the opposite direction, mind already recalibrating.
The academy gates filtered people.
The city revealed them.
And Sakura Aoyama was beginning to understand both.
...