Ren did n't know where to put his hands.
In class, at the same office as last week, he sat with his hands resting on his stage. On his left wrist, the cuff was hidden beneath his invariant sleeve. He could feel it — warm, as if commodity inside it was alive.
The schoolteacher at the front was explaining a calculation formula. Ren did n't hear a single word. His eyes were fixed on the board, but what he saw was the bottom softening beneath the big man's bases. A hand turning to gravestone. The raspy man being thrown into his forefather's press.
Two divisions down on his right, Hana sat still. She glanced at him from time to time, also looked forward again. The Bond Link did n't live yet but Ren could still read her expression.
Are you okay? her eyes sounded to ask.
Ren gave a slight nod.
He was n't.
But he jounced anyway.
The bell chimed for break.
scholars poured out of the classroom. A many classmates approached Ren, offering condolences. He heard the same words repeated from different mouths.
" I'm sorry for your loss. "
" May your forefather rest in peace. "
" You're alone now, huh? "
Ren jounced, said thank you, and forced a faint smile — a smile that did n't really reach anywhere.
After they left, Hana appeared beside him.
" Did you notice that? " she rumored.
" Notice what? "
" The way they look at you. Like " she broke, searching for the word. " Like you're a foreigner. "
Ren did n't answer. He was used to it. Back when people knew he did n't have Kai, they looked at him the same way — pity, discomfort, indeed fear. Now they did n't know what had happed last night, but they could tell commodity had changed.
" This morning, " Hana said still, " I checked my locker. There was a note outside. "
Ren turned toward her. " What kind of note? "
Hana pulled out a crumpled piece of paper from her fund, also smoothed it out. The jotting was in capital letters, slightly slanted.
" YOU suppose YOU CAN HIDE? "
Ren read it further than formerly. No name. No hand.
" Do you know who put it there? " he asked.
Hana shook her head. " No. It was formerly outside when I opened my locker. perhaps it's just a knavery. perhaps — "
" Do n't throw it down. " Ren took the paper, folded it precisely, and slipped it into his fund. " Keep it. "
Hana looked at him. " Who do you suppose it is "
Ren did n't know.
But he flashed back the words from last night.
Ouroboros wo n't stop.
During the last period, the history schoolteacher entered with rushed way. Mr. Takeda. generally, he always smiled, his eyes lighting up when he talked about icons .
moment, he did n't smile.
" Open your books to runner one hundred two, " he said flatly.
Ren and Hana changed a regard. Mr. Takeda did n't look at them — not indeed formerly.
The assignment continued like normal. He explained about the civil war of the 50th period, about icons who betrayed, about trials that shook the idol world. But commodity was different. His voice was mechanical. His movements demanded energy. There was no spark in his eyes.
When the final bell chimed, he stoppedmid-sentence.
" That's enough. We'll continue coming week. "
He walked out of the classroom without looking back.
Ren and Hana stayed in their seats until the room was empty.
" He did n't look at us at each, " Hana said.
" He did it on purpose, " Ren replied.
" Why? "
Ren flashed back what Mr. Takeda had said before.
Be careful who you trust.
perhaps that warning was n't just about Professor Kei.
perhaps it was also about himself.
They walked home through the request.
Ren had wanted to take a longer route, but Hana said the request was briskly. He did n't argue. perhaps part of him wanted to see if everything was still the same.
Yanti's vegetable cube. Mr. Agus's meatball wain. Children running through the narrow paths. maters logrolling over prices.
But commodity had changed.
People turned as they passed. Bruiting. Pointing.
Ren caught fractions of their words.
" Is that him? "
" The one from the videotape? "
" The sprat without Kai? "
Ren quickened his pace. Hana followed nearly behind him.
At the corner leading into the reverse alley, someone stepped into their path.
Nakamura.
Ren honored him incontinently — his right arm still argentine and solid like polished gravestone. Nakamura scowled.
" Long time no see, sprat without Kai. "
Two others stood behind him. One was heavyset with a buzz cut. The other altitudinous and thin, a tattoo entwining up his neck. Both wore unfriendly grins.
" We heard your forefather passed down, " Nakamura said. " Our condolences. " His tone carried no sympathy at all.
Ren did n't respond. He stood establishment, Hana just behind him.
" But I also heard commodity differently, " Nakamura continued, stepping near. " That you've got power now. " His grin widened. " AKai-less sprat suddenly playing idol. "
" What do you want? " Ren asked.
" What do I want? " Nakamura laughed. " I want to see how strong you really are. Because I flash back you hit me that night. Using my own power. " He raised his gravestone arm slightly. " You stole it. I want to see if you can use it better than the original proprietor. "
Ren felt the cuff on his wrist grow warm again. Not like before this time it was slower, nearly as if it was staying.
" Ren " Hana rumored behind him. " Let's go. "
" Go where " Nakamura cut in. " You suppose you can run? " He listed his head, staring. " Or are you spooked? "
Ren was n't spooked.
But he flashed back what Professor Kei had said over the phone the night ahead.
Do n't use heritage in public. Not yet.
Too late.
Nakamura dived forward.
A gravestone fist shot straight toward Ren's face. Ren dodged, his body moving more easily than he anticipated. perhaps it was instinct. perhaps it was the heritage.
" Nice! " Nakamura laughed. " Your turn! "
He attacked again — briskly, heavier.
Ren stepped back, but his bottom caught on a loose gravestone. He fell hard onto the ground.
Nakamura impended over him, raising his fist.
" Hey! "
A voice from the crowd.
People had started gathering. Watching. Recording.
A woman cried, " Stop! Call the police! "
Nakamura glanced back — just for a moment.
It was enough.
Ren pushed himself up.
He did n't suppose.
His win struck the ground.
The earth beneath Nakamura softened incontinently — his bases sank up to his ankles. He lost his balance, his gravestone fist swinging through empty air.
Ren stood, his hand still pressed to the ground.
He'd used it.
Nakamura growled, trying to pull his legs free, but the ground kept shifting, pulling him down.
" You suppose that's enough?! " he cried.
Ren said nothing.
He raised his right hand.
It turned to gravestone.
" Stop! "
The voice came from the crowd again.
An old man stepped forward, leaning on a club. His jacket was worn, his way unsteady. " Stop it, Nakamura! This is a request, not your playground! "
Nakamura glared at him.
also at the crowd.
At the phones raised, recording everything.
He wrangle on the ground. " You got lucky this time, sprat. "
He yanked his bases free and gestured his companions. The three of them pushed through the crowd and faded into the alley.
Ren stood there, breathing hard. His gravestone hand sluggishly returned to normal.
They walked home in silence.
Hana opened the door and switched on the lights. The house looked normal again — books neatly placed, a repaired press, clean bottoms.
As if nothing had happed.
Ren sat down on his forefather's rattan president.
" You saw them, right? " he said, his voice rough. " They were recording. "
Hana jounced. " A lot of them. "
" It'll go viral hereafter. "
" perhaps. "
Ren lowered his aspect
. " I ca n't hide presently. "
Hana sat on the bottom beside him, just like the night ahead. " perhaps you do n't need to hide. "
Ren looked at her.
" I mean people formerly know you have power now. perhaps they wo n't mess with you presently. "
" Or they'll get further curious. "
" perhaps. " She took his hand. " But you're not alone. Flash back? "
Ren wanted to believe that.
But he flashed back the words.
Ouroboros wo n't stop.
His phone bucketed in his fund.
He pulled it out. A communication from an unknown number.
" Hey,Kai-less idol. I'm Kazuki. I'm interested in your power. Wan na meet hereafter? I've got commodity to bandy. Do n't worry — I'm not your adversary perhaps. Find me at the café near the station at 4 PM. Come alone? Up to you. Bring your friend if you want. Just show up. – K "
Ren showed the communication to Hana.
" Kazuki? " she read. " Who's that? "
" No idea. "
" Are we going? "
Ren allowed
about Mr. Takeda's warning.
Be careful who you trust.
" We're going, " Ren said. " But we stay careful. "
Hana jounced. " Agreed. "
Outside, the sky sluggishly darkened. Streetlights flitted on one by one.
Ren remained seated on the rattan president.
Hana sat on the bottom beside him.
Neither of them spoke.
They just sat there —
staying for hereafter.