[Haruka POV]
I barely slept.
Every creak of the house last night sounded like him coming home, but it never was. When I finally dragged myself downstairs, the morning light through the curtains looked washed out, like even the sun didn't want to be here. Sunday mornings used to mean peace. The hum of cicadas outside, the faint clatter of dishes from downstairs, sunlight sneaking through the curtains. But not this one. Not in Kuoh.
Suzuka was already in the kitchen, staring into her coffee like it might answer her prayers. Chisato-san, his mom, sat at the table with her phone in hand, refreshing the screen over and over, even though there were no new messages.
Nobody said much. The air felt heavier than it should've been. It's been two days since he disappeared without a word.
"I'm sure he's fine," I said, more to fill the silence than anything else. My voice cracked halfway through.
I thought of the first time Suzuka had let herself speak about her own impossible truth — how she had told Rias she was a reincarnate, her voice trembling with fear of being erased, of losing everything again. I hadn't known how to respond then, had barely known what to say. But I remembered, clearly, the weight in her eyes, the terror of forgetting.
I thought of our talk while he was gone — how Suzuka had finally opened up to me. She told me her name was Claire Moreau and that she lived in Paris. How much she'd carried, how terrified she'd been that someone like Rias would erase her memories, take everything from her. I remembered the weight in her eyes, the desperation to cling to a life that didn't quite belong to her.
And I thought of myself. Born in Guangzhou to a Chinese mother and a Japanese father, I had been called Yang Hua by people who wanted to mark me as "other." My parents didn't care about the petty rivalries between our worlds — maybe they understood the loneliness I carried. I was a Yuki-onna, strong enough that no one dared bully me for long, yet always too alien to fully belong in either Chinese or Japanese society. I knew what it was to stand on the edge of worlds, to feel the frost of isolation cling to your skin.
Suzuka sat near the window, arms folded, gaze locked on the street outside like she could will him to appear. I didn't know her well — not really. We'd gone to the same high school back in Nagano, but we never spoke. Different classes, different worlds. She always hung out with that quiet girl, Aika, the one who…
I stopped myself.
Aika had died before the attack. I remembered the rumors — something about an accident. But seeing Suzuka now, I understood. You don't really recover from that. You just keep breathing because you have to.
And then Nagano happened.
They called it an earthquake. But we knew what it really was — the Oblivion Syndicate's doing. Shadows tearing through buildings, screams echoing through smoke. The city that raised us reduced to a scar.
Kokonoe-kun had fought. Saved who he could. But something in him didn't come back from that battlefield. I saw it in his eyes afterward — that hollow look that said he'd seen too much, lost too much. Maybe that's why he left. Maybe that's why he always leaves.
"He's done this before," Suzuka said quietly. "But not like this."
I didn't answer. The air between us was thick with everything we weren't saying.
"He'll come back," I muttered finally.
Suzuka gave a faint nod, still staring out the window. "Yeah. But the one who comes back might not be the same."
She was right. The syndicate didn't just break the city — it broke all of us, in different ways.
I wanted to believe he was fine. But Kokonoe-kun wasn't the type to vanish unless something inside him broke. And this time, I couldn't even begin to guess what triggered it.
His mother's eyes were red, but she tried to smile when she saw me watching. "He's been through worse, hasn't he?"
Yeah. That was the problem. He's been through worse. And every time, he came back a little more cracked, a little further away from us.
I stared at the clock ticking above the doorway. Every second that passed stretched too long, too quiet, like time itself didn't want to move forward until he walked through that damn door.
And then —
The lock clicked.
My heart jumped. Footsteps.
The door opened.
He looked exhausted. Not the kind of tired you fix with sleep — the kind that seeps into your bones and refuses to leave. His jacket was dusted with dirt, his hair slightly disheveled, eyes sharp but distant.
"Koko—" I started, but Chisato-san was already on her feet, rushing to him.
"Where have you been?" Her voice cracked between relief and anger, hands trembling as she reached for his sleeve. "You didn't answer my calls, your phone was off, I—"
"I went to Mount Fuji," he said calmly, almost too calmly. "Just needed to clear my head."
A lie. It rolled off his tongue too easily, the same way he'd lied before — not out of malice, but to keep people from worrying.
"Mount Fuji?" Suzuka repeated, eyebrows furrowing.
"Yeah. Figured it'd help." He managed a faint, practiced smile, then slipped past them into the kitchen like nothing had happened.
Chisato-san just stood there, speechless. She wanted to be angry, but she was too relieved to care. "At least tell someone next time," she murmured, her voice small.
He gave a nod, avoiding her eyes.
I followed him to the back room, the faint smell of cigarette smoke trailing behind him. Suzuka came too, silent as always. When the door clicked shut, he finally dropped the act.
"We need to talk," he said, his tone low, serious.
I felt my stomach knot.
Suzuka exchanged a glance with me. "About what?"
He looked at us — really looked. His expression wasn't cold or angry, just… tired. "About who I am," he said quietly. "And what I saw."
For a heartbeat, none of us said anything. The silence pressed heavy, the kind that feels like standing at the edge of something enormous.
Then he spoke again, softer this time — a confession wrapped in disbelief.
"I know it sounds absurd, but apparently… my kid self lives in this timeline. I'm an abomination."
(scene break, Kokonoe POV)
Coming home felt like waking up from a nightmare — except the nightmare followed me.
Nelu, exhausted from the first trip, barely managed to manifest in time to save me from the vampires in Săcele. Yeah… the universe's been giving me homework lately — things to think about.
The Oblivion Syndicate were all after me; I was probably their number one enemy.
And in this universe, in my own country, there existed not only a version of me from when I was a kid — but also vampires.
How the fuck am I supposed to feel about that? Should I try to rationalize it in my head, or scream at deaf gods and fanfiction authors like an idiot, hoping it'll change something?
There's an old Romanian saying: "God never gives you more than you can carry."
Clearly, I'll be carrying this cross to the end.
Such were my thoughts as I stood before Haruka and Midorikawa, in my room, having to explain to them where I've been gone since Friday. They didn't press me, they both understood when they saw me. And yet, I can't carry this alone, and neither can I leave them in the dark. Well, I'm not gonna mention the club and drugs bits, obviously, but I still owe them an explanation for disappearing like that.
Fuck it, I'll just drop the bombshell.
"I know it sounds absurd, but apparently… my kid self lives in this timeline. I'm an abomination.", I said, bluntly.
Haruka's expression went blank. Midorikawa bit her lip, understanding the implication. Her own kid self could be somewhere in Paris.
For a moment, no one spoke. The air felt heavier — like reality itself was listening, judging. I didn't blame them for not knowing what to say. Hell, I didn't know either.
I glanced at Haruka — she was the one I owed extra explanations to.
"So… umm, y'know how Midorikawa's a reincarnate from another world?" I laughed nervously before my own stare went blank. I raised a hand, as if to introduce myself.
"Reincarnate other worlder, number two, at your service." I facepalmed.
The ridiculous reality of the situation of everything started to kick in for us.
Watcher's probably jerking himself off in his clo—
…nah. Not feeling it.
What's the point, after everything?
Haruka glanced at Midorikawa, then at me, then back and forth. Slowly, her eye game exhausted her and a sly grin morphed into her features.
"So that's why the two of you were being so buddy-buddy~.", she voiced, half-exhausted, half just trying to act like herself.
Really? That's what you're concerned about?
"I only told her about myself", Midorikawa interjected sheepishly, as if I somehow managed to hire her my lawyer.
Not saying that you telling her about me wouldn't have saved me effort, though. You're a sweet one, Suzuka.
She blushed. Oh my, did I say that aloud?
"Yeah, you did.", Haruka pointed out, her face returning to the same blankness from earlier.
"Well... at least you two get along well.", I breathed out, genuinely relieved.
Like, if they ever decided to fight each other like Koneko and Haruka did, Midorikawa wouldn't stand much of a chance given that she's human, so that's why it's genuine relief. From what I gathered, they both attend the same school, so I'd rather not have a repeat of what happened the night before the attack in Nagano in any shape or form. Before the Oblivion Syndicate... life was easier.
Haruka pouted, as if sensing my thoughts and hugged Midorikawa, who blushed quietly, like a cat getting comfortable when you pet her.
"Suzuka is my friend, I don't do that to friends.", she hissed. "And besides, I wouldn't do that to people.". She stuck her tongue out at me.
Fair enough. I totally would.... did, in fact, actually.
On that note, what a beautiful friendship. Say girls don't bond easily.
Also, is there a button to stop my thoughts from leaking out?
Nothing beats a Jet2 Holiday. And now you can save 50 pounds per person. That'd be 150 pounds for the three of us.
"So I know about Suzuka, but spill, lover boy — who even is this Kokonoe that somehow stole my heart~?", she flared dramatically.
Yeah. We're fine. Totally fine.
"I'm Romanian," I said, exhausted. "My name was Mihai Grădinaru. I lived in Brașov, Romania. I used to work as a TikTok mod."
I left the overdose part out. I haven't even told Midorikawa about that — though she knows I used to do drugs. She's never brought it up once.
Haruka didn't seem like the type of girl who could just ask about someone's death like it was nothing. She looked like she was still trying to wrap her head around it. I mean, two people you know turn out to be reincarnated from another world — yeah, that'd mess with anyone's head.
"Should I start calling you Mihai?" she laughed, but it came out thin — like she was trying too hard to make it sound casual.
"God, please no."
Her smile faltered, then steadied.
I don't want Japanese people to butcher my name. I'll just stick with Kokonoe in Japan, period.
The less I heard that old name, the less it pulled me back to everything that came with it.
All of a sudden, Haruka fidgeted nervously, as if she had lost herself in her own thoughts. Then she flinched, a determined look flashing across her face as she steadied herself to speak.
"Actually… I also have something I haven't told you two," she said quietly.
Haruka drew in a shaky breath, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve. "I… I wasn't born here," she said, voice barely above a whisper. "I'm half Chinese. My mom's from Guangzhou, I was born there. We moved to Japan when I was six. When I lived there, my name was Yang Hua. Yang Hua, Haruka, I don't feel like I belong to either China, nor Japan. I'm just here."
I blinked, and for a second, the weight of it hit me. Looking at her, then at Midorikawa, it suddenly struck me — none of us in this room actually belong here. Japan wasn't our home. Haruka wasn't Japanese, Midorikawa wasn't either, and… well, neither was I.
The irony curled in my chest, bitter and strange at the same time. I let out a small, tired laugh. "So… I guess none of us really belong here, huh?"
Haruka's gaze dropped to her lap. She looked like she expected judgment, or disappointment, or maybe just indifference. But then Midorikawa leaned over and wrapped her arms around her.
"It must have been hard for you," Midorikawa said softly.
I watched Haruka's shoulders relax just a fraction. She let out a shaky breath and leaned into the hug, and for a moment, I realized — this room, with these two people, felt a little more like home than anywhere else ever had.
Then it hit me. God, I'm an idiot. I didn't know back then, but still… I'd said something dumb about Chinese people being subjected to war crimes by Japan, and she—Haruka—had just grabbed my hand and made me calm down like it was nothing.
"Uh… sorry about what I said," I blurted, voice cracking a little but trying to act casual. "You know… that whole… China in WW2 thing. Guess I was reborn Japanese, so, y'know, here's an honest apology." I stopped, smirking dramatically, because what else was left? "Can't speak for all Japan, though. They're… a different story."
I waited, half-expecting her to roll her eyes or call me an idiot. Instead, Haruka blinked, just once, and then gave this tiny, incredulous smile that made my chest loosen a little.
"Huh… okay," she said finally, voice soft, almost shy. "I get it. Thanks… I guess."
Her fingers fidgeted with the hem of her sleeve, and I could see the tension in her shoulders melt just a fraction. She wasn't laughing at me—she was letting me off easy, letting me be human for a second.
"I… I know you didn't mean it like that," she said quietly, her eyes lifting up to meet mine. "It's fine. Really."
Then she chuckled — not mocking, more like she couldn't believe how tense things had gotten. "You know, you're an idiot," she said, shaking her head, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "What was I supposed to do? You looked like you were about to massacre half the world."
Her tone softened at the end, just enough to slip under my defenses. "You matter to me, silly…"
And I couldn't stop the warmth that spread through me when she said that. Midorikawa, not fully leaning into the embrace but with her hands wrapped around Haruka's neck, let out a sheepish chuckle.
"I was scared of you for a second," she admitted.
"You just found out we were monsters," I said dryly, a small smirk tugging at my lips. "What was a normal reaction?"
The room was quiet after that, but it didn't feel heavy anymore. Just… real. A little messy, a little fragile, but real. For a while, we just sat there in silence.
Then Haruka broke it.
"So… where did you go after all? Romania?" she asked, curiosity threading her voice.
Midorikawa exhaled softly, her tone calm and quiet. "We were worried about you. I had a feeling you might head there, but I didn't want to reveal anything about you before you told Haruka-chan yourself. You should say it in your own words… and you did," she said, a faint smile tugging at her lips, like I'd lived up to some unspoken expectation.
For a moment, she went quiet, her eyes tracing my lips with that same dreamy look she'd had back in Nagano. After the aftermath of the battle, after we'd kissed… it felt like that moment was stretching across timelines, still keeping us connected. My chest warmed despite myself. Thanks for always having my back, Claire, I thought, letting the silence hold us for just a moment longer. Then, I spoke, looking both girls dead in the eye.
"Yeah… had some ghosts to confront." I ran a hand through my hair, the memory still raw. "Then I saw my kid self at my old school. And the Oblivion Syndicate came for me… but they got wiped out by vampires. Crazy, right?"
I let out a shaky laugh, but it faded fast. Somehow saying it out loud made it more real, more absurd.
Haruka tilted her head slightly, eyes calm and unreadable, like she'd already expected there were strange things in the world. "Ghosts, huh… sounds about right," she murmured, almost to herself, lips twitching in the faintest hint of a smile.
Midorikawa, however, stiffened, her eyes widening as she processed the last part. "V… vampires? Really? That… actually happened?"
Her voice wavered, caught somewhere between disbelief and fascination. I could see her mind racing, trying to reconcile this with the person she'd come to know.
"I thought Romania was known for gyps—" she stopped herself, catching my glare, but the goofy smile lingered.
"Don't finish that…" I muttered, voice low.
I glared at Midorikawa, half annoyed, half amused.
"Hehe~" she said, sticking her tongue out. French girls… "Have I ever mentioned you're cute when you're angry?"
Haruka stayed quiet, her eyes flicking to mine with a faint, almost imperceptible smile. Calm. Steady. She didn't need to say anything — she already knew.
"So… how did they react to you coming there?" she asked.
"Well, they didn't have time to react. I ran on Nelu's back, the same way I made it to Romania in the first place," I said mechanically.
"But there are limitations to the Sacred Gear. He flew all the way to București, but the flight was so exhausting he only manifested again after a day. I took a train to Brașov in the meantime. Fucking CFR," I added, stopping myself before it turned into a full-blown rant about how awful the Romanian railways are.
Haruka and Midorikawa exchanged a confused glance — then, almost in perfect unison, looked up at me. "Nelu?" they both asked.
"Come on," I deadpanned, "you know my ice bird. You've seen it in Nagano."
Haruka and Midorikawa exchanged a glance, before understanding.
"Oh, that's how you named your pet", Haruka concluded.
"It's the most Romanian name for a pet, ever", Midorikawa laughed.
All the three of us broke out laughing. I guess we're back to normal.
_________________
[Dream flashback: Braşov, Romania]
That night, I dreamed of the past. Before Kokonoe Takashi. Before all this madness.
3 a.m. A few bottles of Desperados and some wrappers from Lidl snacks and sweets were scattered across the floor. In the ashtray, a half-smoked joint burned lazily. My head ached — I couldn't take another drag. It had been a while since I'd been to work, about two weeks. One week since I got back from Paris. One week since a meeting that never happened. Claire, the girl I'd taken that vacation for, had died in a hospital in the French capital the very day I arrived.
The souvenirs I bought from the so-called city of love lay scattered on the table, a physical poison in front of me. Trivial things: a €15 perfume, a €6 cap, a €3 deck of cards from a souvenir shop near Notre-Dame. A bottle of semi-dry white Sauvignon sat unopened on the table.
Everything else revolved around the present: a rap beat, some lyrics in an old notebook from when I finished night school — I hated writing on my phone — and BandLab lagging like hell in its free version. More of a hobby than anything else, the kind of thing you do to vent creatively when you're too dumb to write a book.
When I finished recording, I set the alarm for 6:30. Another day in the diary of a corporate slave was about to begin, soaked in the torments of drugs and sleeplessness.
I didn't even get to rest. The suffocating air of those four walls served me sleep paralysis on a silver platter — like paralysis was the only girl who would ever fuck me. Poetic, huh?
I got up around 7. In ten minutes, I managed a shower and threw on whatever clothes I could find: a white hoodie with black lettering, street style; ripped jeans; and some navy-and-red Vans. My slave uniform for the TikTok economy.
I barely grabbed a bite of scrambled eggs and a sip of coffee, then left at 7:36. Backpack on my shoulder, medical leave papers from last week tucked inside. I grabbed the half joint from the ashtray and lit it before stepping out the gate.
I looked back for a split second at that miserable house — a house that seemed to mock the very definition of "home" in the Romanian dictionary.
The cold air of Săcele hit me like a punch as I walked down the hill between the hospital and the church. The bus came at 7:44. Two minutes to finish the joint, and I made it to the station. I stood a few steps away on the path leading into the neighborhood, far enough to smoke without the whole block smelling it. The last drag hit like lightning just as the bus arrived.
Inside, same filth. The gypsies in the back blasting manele. Otherwise, a monotonous morning. I sank into a window seat, put on some Hungarian music, and let my mind drift — at least work would distract me from her ghost for a while.
I got off at the last stop and stopped at Kaufland for fries and pork steak — the lunch special of poverty. On the way from Kaufland to the Business Park, I smoked another cigarette, mixing smoke with Brașov's polluted autumn air. How to give yourself asthma, one drag at a time, walking the narrow streets of Steagu.
Seeing my coworkers smoking and chatting hit me with apathy and monumental laziness. Inside, the Business Park radiated that same corporate stench I had grown used to.
On the floor, everyone worked like zombies, playing videos at 2x speed, finishing cases as fast as possible so they could slack off the rest of the day. Occasionally, someone would slip onto YouTube or Insta, dodging the VPN a bit. I didn't get that luck — on the first day of the new project, my boss caught me writing lyrics and shoved it down my throat.
I didn't even know where to sit. I ended up next to my rocker comrade, black-and-purple nails reminding me of myself at 15, emo phase — maybe that's why we got along so well.
"They moved you," he said as soon as he saw me. "I don't think this is your spot; someone else was here before."
I'd slept only three hours. Honestly, do you think I gave a fuck?
"I saw, but when they moved you, I wanted to ask," I said, cutting him off weakly.
"Well, you were gone, like last week… or the week before," he said concisely.
Bro, he was supposedly more rested than me and couldn't remember when the move happened.
"So… last week or the week before?"
"I don't know. Anyway, while you were gone," he shrugged.
No comment. Then Lavinia, my boss, arrived; I had told her I brought the medical note.
"They moved you to the green desks, next to a girl with pink hair," she said immediately.
I looked in that direction. Ah, next to Pinky. Just great. Lavinia examined my leave papers and saw a medical certificate for the 14th — for which I couldn't take leave due to health card issues.
"That certificate only covers the 14th, but that day won't be paid," she said, detached.
Yeah, tell me something I don't know. "I had issues with my health card and couldn't take leave," I repeated like a parrot.
"Aha. Make sure you move during the first break," she said and left.
I glanced at the desk I had been sitting at, sadly, and noticed a little note: Andreea Moraru. Ah, thanks, Andreea — your laptop was a lifeline for browsing the internet at work. I played another episode of SAO Abridged and some music until the first break.
Then I went to the old spot to grab my laptop, hidden behind another colleague's, and set up my stuff at the new desk. Laptop issues again. Two and a half hours later, sent to IT. If only they could get me out of the VPN… Anyway. Then came the TikTok flood. I scrolled mechanically, approving three-quarters of the queue.
Female NPCs twerking at the camera in lace panties screaming "I'm a slut." Videos about Palestine, IDF doing whatever the hell they wanted. And one with a malnourished baby being prodded by a doctor to see if it could cry. Not gonna lie — I nearly smashed my work laptop.
Pinky, the girl with pink hair next to me — I call her that because I never remembered her name — seemed to be going through an existential crisis. Like everyone else, really.
I looked at her a second too long, and she noticed.
"You've been gone a while. What did you do?"
Yeah, time to explain myself.
"I got sick," I said flatly, not giving details.
"Acute truancy?" she laughed, like she'd just dropped the punchline of the year — the kind of joke you make in 7th grade at the class slacker.
Fine. I had leave, unpaid leave, and a medical note. Whatever. I pretended to laugh.
She gave me a cat sticker — she had too many and didn't know what to do with them. I offered her some toasted bread snacks from that vending machine in the hallway before the floor. A few words, more out of boredom than anything else.
"I need to see how I manage college, since I have classes…" she said, frustrated.
I asked, "Which college are you at?"
"Human Resources," she replied, her voice soft, like she didn't want to draw attention to herself.
I nodded. "Ah… makes sense."
There was a pause. Then she looked at me, eyes flicking away before meeting mine again. "I… my parents kicked me out when I was nineteen," she said quietly. "I'm twenty-one now. Been living on my own since then."
I swallowed. "Wow… that's rough."
"Yeah," she said, shrugging lightly, but there was no real weight behind it — just the exhaustion of saying it out loud. "It's for the best, I guess. But rent, bills, groceries… it barely adds up."
"Some days I feel like I'm just scraping by.", she concluded. Me too, I'm always scraping by.
After 8 hours, it was finally time to go home. I bid Pinky fairwell and rushed to the bus stop. The ride home was a black hole. As soon as I got on the bus, I leaned against the window and passed out. Thankfully, the gypsies woke me in time to get off at my stop.
______
I woke up from my dream to find… to my left, Midorikawa curled up against my chest. To my right, Haruka was hugging my back in her sleep.
Midorikawa stirred first, blinking as if realizing where she was. Her cheeks flushed a soft pink, and she jolted upright, landing on her ass with a small gasp. I caught a fleeting glimpse of delicate purple lace peeking from the waistband of her pajama pants. French girls really are daring.
"Good morning, Kokonoe-kun…" she murmured, her voice quiet, laced with embarrassment over her unconscious closeness.
Haruka pressed the temple of her head against me, murmuring softly, "My teddy bear…"—or maybe she was still half-asleep. Then she stirred fully, blinking awake.
"Good morning, Kokonoe-kun!" she said cheerfully, stretching a little as she settled beside me.
She was wearing nothing but my white flannel, half-buttoned. Underneath, a tank top clung lazily to her form, and her gray sports panties peeked out, adorned with a black Calvin Klein wristband detail. I froze for a moment, taking it all in.
"Good morning, you two…" I said, half-relief, half-deadpan. And, yeah… thanks for the view.
"You're welcome," Haruka said, unbuttoning the flannel lazily, giving me a full, unapologetic look. The dream, apparently, wasn't over.
"Umm… you saw it? Wait, how much did you see…?" Midorikawa blushed, glancing away. Then, quieter, "Not that I mind…"
Great. The Jet2 Holiday anti-leak button was definitely broken. I demand a refund.
Midorikawa, trying to deflect the attention, sweatdropped sheepishly. "You're so bold, Haruka-chan…"
Haruka, still half-dressed in my flannel, clung to my arm with a smug grin, pressing close just to annoy the other girl. It worked.
Midorikawa puffed her cheeks, clearly flustered, then — in some impulsive act of defiance — pushed off her pajama top. Then, I saw her bra. Purple and white stripes trimmed with lace. My brain blue-screened.
"D-don't stare too hard…" she mumbled, cheeks glowing as she grabbed my other arm for balance.
This. This right here. This is heaven. I can die in peace.