Ren felt like his own mind was trying to kill him.
He sat on the edge of his bed in the dim morning light, elbows digging into his knees, staring at the floor where dust motes swirled lazily in the thin beams slipping between the curtains. The room smelled of stale sweat, old paper, and the faint metallic tang that seemed permanently stuck to his skin no matter how hard he scrubbed. His ribs still ached from the beating two days ago. Every bruise pulsed with a dull reminder of how easily flesh could break.
Seventeen.
The number felt like a sick joke. He should have been staying up late arguing with friends online, stressing about entrance exams, or rereading his favorite manga for the tenth time. Instead he was carrying five corpses in his head, each one heavier than the last, each one whispering that he could have done more.
And then there was Sora.
Her confession from yesterday refused to leave him alone. The warmth of her hands on his face. The way her full lips had moved when she whispered she was in love with him. The peaceful silence he felt whenever he looked into her eyes — no vision, no blood, no death. Just her.
It was the only thing keeping him sane.
It was also the thing that scared him most.
The school hallways were alive with Friday morning energy. Sunlight poured through the tall windows, painting the polished wooden floors in bright golden rectangles. The air carried the sweet scent of cherry blossoms from the courtyard mixed with floor wax and the faint aroma of leftover curry from the cafeteria. Lockers slammed. Students laughed and shouted about weekend plans. To Ren, it all felt distant, like he was watching it through thick glass.
He kept his head down, gaze locked a few steps ahead, avoiding every reflective surface and every pair of eyes. His body still ached. Every step sent a sharp reminder through his bruised ribs.
During the mid-morning break, the trouble found him near the vending machines.
Ryuji and two of his friends sauntered over, blocking his path. The tall, broad-shouldered third-year smirked, cracking his knuckles loudly.
"Well, well. If it isn't the blood-soaked ghost himself," Ryuji drawled. "Heard you were covered in Yui's blood like some kind of freak. What's the matter, Ishida? Too scared to look people in the eyes anymore?"
Ren tried to step around them. "Move."
Ryuji laughed and shoved him hard against the wall. The impact rattled his teeth. Pain flared across his back.
"Don't walk away when I'm talking to you, you creepy little shit. What's wrong? Afraid we'll see how fucked up you really are?"
One of the friends grinned. "Maybe he's the one who killed her. Guy was covered in blood, right? Probably got off on it."
Ren's jaw tightened. Despite the fear, a spark of bitter sarcasm slipped out. "Yeah, that's it. I'm a serial killer. Watch out, or I might add you to my collection next. Now get the fuck out of my way."
Ryuji's eyes narrowed. "Oh, you've got a mouth today?"
The beating was swift and brutal. A fist slammed into Ren's stomach, driving the air from his lungs. Another cracked across his jaw. Kicks followed — sharp, vicious blows to his ribs and legs. Ren curled up on the cold floor, arms over his head, tasting blood in his mouth as the bright sunlight streaming through the nearby window made the violence feel almost surreal.
Finally, a teacher's distant voice echoed down the hall. The boys scattered, laughing.
Ren lay there for a long moment, breathing shallowly, blood trickling from his split lip. He dragged himself to his feet and stumbled toward the bathroom.
His eyes had lock with Ryuji's during their altercation.
The vision hit him like a sledgehammer to the chest.
This evening. Minutes after the final bell, when the school was emptying but the building still echoed with the last footsteps of club members.
The boys' bathroom near the back wing, lit by the fading orange glow of sunset pouring through the high windows. Ryuji standing at the urinal, grumbling to himself. The main door creaks open. A single gunshot cracks through the tiled space — sharp, deafening. The bullet tears into Ryuji's chest with a wet, meaty impact, then another rips through the side of his head. Blood explodes across the white tiles in bright arterial sprays, splattering the mirrors and sinks in grotesque patterns. He jerks forward violently, slamming into the urinal, then slides down the wall in a slick, gruesome trail of red. His eyes remain wide with shock and betrayal as life drains out of him in seconds, a final gurgling rattle escaping his throat. The shooter's face remains hidden in shadow, just a silhouette in the doorway.
Ren gasped, clutching the sink. This one was tonight.
Close. Too close.
He spent the rest of class in a cold sweat, staring at his desk. No. Not again. I'm not interfering. Every time I try, it only gets worse.
The decision tasted like ash. It felt like cowardice. It felt like betrayal. But after everything… he couldn't bring himself to try again.
School let out a few minutes after the final bell. The hallways were still bright with natural afternoon light streaming through the tall windows, golden and warm, casting long rectangles across the polished wooden floors.
The air carried the faint scent of floor wax, cherry blossoms from the courtyard, and the lingering aroma of lunch curry from the cafeteria. Most students had already left, but the building wasn't dark yet — it was simply quieter, with the occasional echo of a locker closing or a club member's voice fading down the corridor.
Ren slipped into the empty cafeteria while the last few stragglers headed home. Sunlight poured through the large windows, illuminating chairs stacked neatly on tables and the stainless steel counters. The space smelled of leftover curry and disinfectant. He grabbed a small kitchen knife from the drawer near the sink, the blade catching the light with a cold glint. He wrapped it in a napkin and hid it in his bag.
He made his way to the boys' bathroom near the back of the school. The hallway outside was empty, sunlight slanting through the windows and painting the walls in soft orange hues. He locked himself in the farthest stall, heart hammering so hard he could hear it in his ears.
Why am I doing this? he thought, sitting on the closed toilet lid. The stall smelled of bleach and something far worse. The guy's a jerk. He beat me up today. He deserves whatever's coming.
But the guilt wouldn't let him go.
He pulled out the knife and nervously played with it, turning it over in his hands. The blade nicked his thumb. Blood welled up instantly. He hissed in pain and sucked on the cut, tasting copper.
Minutes stretched. The school grew quieter. Distant voices faded.
Footsteps finally echoed outside.
Ryuji entered the bathroom, grumbling to himself. He went into the stall right next to Ren's. The crude sounds filled the air. Ren held his breath, knife gripped tightly, sweat dripping down his back.
The toilet flushed. The stall door opened. Ryuji's footsteps headed for the exit.
Suddenly the main bathroom door creaked open again. New footsteps — slow, deliberate.
Ryuji stopped. "The hell? This is the boys' bathroom. What are you doing in here?"
Ren carefully peeked over the top of the stall partition.
It was Sora.
She stood in the doorway with a cold, icy expression Ren had never seen before. Her hands were hidden behind her back. The usual gentle warmth was gone. She looked calm, calculated, and terrifying.
"It's wrong to hurt other people," she said quietly.
Ryuji laughed nervously. "What the fuck are you talking about, transfer girl? I beat up a lot of people. Which one are you crying about?"
Sora's lips curved into a small, chilling smile. "You hurt the love of my life. The only reason I have to live."
Ren almost gasped. He clamped a hand over his mouth, eyes wide.
Ryuji looked confused. "That creepy loner? You're shitting me."
Sora slowly brought her hands forward.
She was holding a silver revolver.
The bully's face drained of color. He took a step back, hands raising instinctively. "W-Wait— what the hell?!"
"You deserve death for hurting him," Sora said softly, raising the gun.
Ren's heart stopped.
He burst out of the stall and stepped between them.
"Sora, what the fuck are you doing?!" he shouted, voice cracking.
Sora's eyes widened. The cold mask shattered instantly. She quickly hid the gun behind her back and looked down at the floor like a scolded child, cheeks flushing pink.
Ryuji, who had just pissed himself in terror when the gun appeared, stared in disbelief as the girl who had been about to kill him turned into an obedient, blushing puppy.
Ren glared at the bully. "Get out. Now. And if you tell anyone about this, I'll let her finish what she started."
Ryuji stumbled backward, still in shock, then bolted out the door, leaving a wet trail behind him.
The bathroom fell silent except for the dripping faucet.
Ren turned to Sora, breathing hard. "Why do you have a gun? Why were you going to kill him?"
Sora kept her gaze on the floor, voice small. "Because he hurt you."
Ren's mind screamed She's insane. But another part of him — the lonely, broken part that had been rejected his entire life — felt a strange, warm rush. She had been willing to kill for him.
"Do you hate me now?"
He gently took the gun from her hands and tucked it away safely. Then he patted her head softly.
"I don't hate you," he said quietly. "I… I actually feel good knowing you're looking out for me. But no killing. A person's life is worth more than anything. Okay?"
Sora looked up at him with wide, shocked eyes. The overwhelming emotion on her face — pure, unfiltered love mixed with disbelief — made her tremble.
They stepped out of the bathroom together into the brightly lit hallway. Late afternoon sunlight still streamed through the windows, making the polished floors gleam.
Ren's legs suddenly gave out. He dropped to his knees right there in the corridor, tears flowing nonstop down his face.
Sora gasped and knelt beside him instantly. "Ren?! What's happening? Are you hurt?!"
He couldn't speak at first. Tears kept coming.
He had saved a life.
The vision hadn't happened. The bully was alive. Ren had stopped a death.
That meant… he hadn't tried hard enough with the others.
If he had only done more — been smarter, faster, braver — Yui might still be smiling. Tanaka might still be grading papers. The old man might still be drinking tea. Kota might still be laughing.
Ren sobbed harder, shoulders shaking violently.
Sora wrapped her arms around him tightly, stroking his hair, whispering soft, possessive words of comfort.
But for the first time, Ren realized the terrifying truth.
He could change fate.
He just hadn't been willing to go far enough before.