The air was charged with silence, broken only by the muted hum of the police voices echoing down the hallway. Subaru sat on the couch, her eyes fixed on the floor, her hands writhing in nervous agitation in her lap. The adrenaline rush that had seized her just seconds before was ebbing away into a deep, sickly weariness.
I brought a chair over and sat beside her, not wanting to intrude on the thinned, fragile space between us.
"Hey," I said softly. "You're safe. Nobody's going to hurt you."
She looked up at me, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. "I know. It just. it feels dreamlike. Like it was some nightmare that I couldn't wake up from."
I nodded, aware of more than she could ever know. "Sometimes the hardest thing isn't to fight to get through the battle, but deal with what comes afterward."
She drew a shuddery breath. "I catch myself thinking. what if it happens again? What if the next time I'm not as lucky?"
I placed a supporting hand on her. "Then I'll be there. Every time. I won't let anything happen to you."
For a moment, her guard dropped. She let out a shaky breath and leaned slightly against me. "Thank you, Hayato. For not giving up."
I gave a small smile, feeling a quiet warmth spread through the weariness. "We'll face whatever comes, together."
As the night wore on, the fear subsided but didn't end. With every moment we shared and every silence, the distance between us became filled with something stronger than fear: trust.
And that, I came to understand, was the start of truly breaking the cycle.
...
The air hummed with the familiar buzz of empty chatter, screeching desks, and chalk dust. The noise faded from Hayato's thoughts the moment she stepped in.
Yukinoshita Yukino.
She glided with intentional poise, every step as deliberate as a chess player moving a queen from square to square, measured, efficient, impossible to ignore. Her gaze swept the room but did not pause, cool and calculating, before she sat down in the empty chair beside the window. In one sweeping motion, she drew out a hardcover novel from her bag and opened it, reading from the page as if the world had paused.
Hayato had heard whispers about her, smart, intimidating, the sort of woman who took apart other people's arguments without needing to lift her voice. But watching her now, he could see that there was more: an unyielding intensity, a sense of self that drew neither attention nor fear.
It was only during lunchtime that he saw something different.
Yukino stood by the school entrance gate, book clutched under her arm, watching a young man stooping just beyond the fence. His clothes were loose and wrinkled, sneakers frayed at the toe. He cast perpetually anxious glances over his shoulder, nervous as a trapped cat.
Hayato eased back his pace. His gut was telling him to hang close.
Yukino stepped forward. "Lost?" She spoke with courtesy, but there was determination behind it.
The boy flinched. "Uh… yeah. Just looking for someone." His eyes darted, untrustworthy.
Hayato's unease escalated. He recognized the quiver of the boy's motion, fear, not confusion. And fear like this tended to mean danger wasn't far behind.
It arrived in the guise of three older adolescents turning into the corner. Their pace was slow, deliberate, their gaze on the boy. They didn't bother to hide their intent.
The shoulders of the boy tensed. Yukino watched, her gaze narrowing by a fraction.
"Friends of yours?" she inquired, her tone laced with suspicion.
The lead one sneered. "Something like that.".
Hayato didn't hesitate. He drifted toward them, just out of their line of sight, ready to intervene.
One of them shoved the boy hard enough that he stumbled into Yukino. She caught at his arm, steadying him, then turned a cold, unyielding stare on the group.
"Let him go."
It was no request. It was a command. And from her, it was one they complied with.
The air had grown tight. For an instant, Hayato wondered if they'd resist, if he'd have to intervene and make the situation ugly. But with a pause, the leader growled under his breath, and they continued, casting one final glare over their shoulders.
The kid didn't waste any time sprinting down the street, not even saying thanks to her.
Yukino inhaled slowly, her peace undisturbed. Meeting back up with the school, she glanced over Hayato's briefly. He knew she'd noticed him. Knew she knew he hadn't been by chance out here.
Side by side, at last, she spoke up, "I couldn't just stand around and do nothing. That's not me."
He nodded. "Even if it's dangerous?"
Her lips curled into a little, almost rebellious smile. "Especially then."
Hayato did not respond. But inside him, he was already certain: in this cycle, her courage was as deadly to her as any blade in the darkness.
The day went almost the same.
Hayato felt the pull of what had to be, like being dragged by an undertow he could not fight.
Yukino still found the rags-wrapped boy beside the school doors. She still walked up on him unawares.
This time, Hayato tried to close the distance sooner, his speed picking up as his stomach twisted. He'd seen it coming. He'd seen those three figures sooner than they came around the bend.
"Yukino!"
She spun around, briefly bewildered by the desperation in his voice. That anger, just a pulse beat's worth, was all it took for the three of them to appear.
"Friends of yours?" she said again to the boy, her tone crisp but accusing.
"No, but-" The boy didn't manage to get it out. The leader muscled him aside, watching him fall into the pavement. Yukino pushed forward to help him, but there was no staredown with purpose this time.
The boy crawled away, getting her caught in the space between them and the fading bystanders. The three teenagers moved apart, cutting her off.
"Should've kept your nose out of it," one of them sneered.
Hayato pushed forward, still too far away, trapped behind a crowd of pedestrians jamming the narrow sidewalk.
A flash of steel caught sunlight.
Yukino stood firm, contemptuous even as the blade arced. "Cowards," she spat.
The thrust was sudden and vicious. She breathed in sharply, hands grasping at her waist, knees collapsing. Her book spilled from her elbow, pages fluttering open on the ground like broken wings.
Hayato somehow burst through, grabbing the closest one by the collar and shoving him against the wall, but it was too late by then.
Her eyes locked with his, wide with shock rather than terror. A soft breath escaped her lips, something like sorry, or maybe don't blame yourself, before her body went limp.
The world came to a halt. The colors bled away.
Hayato's vision went dark.
When he opened his eyes again, he was back in school. The same conversation. Yukino sat in the window seat, reading her book. Alive.
And he knew the loop was still trapping him.
...
The library was nearly empty by late afternoon, sunlight pouring in through tall windows in golden slants. The air was still except for the far-off rustle of pages and the muffled click of Yukino's pen as she struggled through a set of notes.
Hayato had sat two tables away, reading through the motions of a creased paperback.
She called out first.
"Hayato."
Her tone was easy, but the way her eyes never left the paper told him this was not going to be a small talk situation.
He lifted his head slowly. "Yeah?"
"That child during the earlier hours." She neatly marked something on her notebook before laying down the pen. "You approached him before I could. And you told him to go away."
"Yeah. He appeared. off.".
Her gaze finally lifted to meet his. "And the men who showed up moments later? That was just a coincidence?"
Hayato leaned back, keeping his expression neutral. "I've seen enough people with bad intentions to know the signs."
"'Signs.'" She tested the word again. "'You were not focusing on them until they came around the corner. You were focused on the boy, not the street. And still. you reacted as if you knew what would happen.'"
Hayato shrugged slightly. "Guess of chance."
Yukino's eyes narrowed marginally. "I do not believe in chance."
They looked at each other for a moment, hers, sharp and questioning; his, unflustered but watchful. He could sense the weight of her mind working, assessing everything.
"You seem to… intervene," she said diplomatically, "at just the right moments. And you never seem surprised by anything dangerous."
"That's not true," Hayato replied, though he knew the protest sounded weak even to himself. "I just watch."
Her pen clicked again, rhythmic, as if a metronome for her mind. "If that's the case… you must be highly adept at listening to me."
He forced a weak smile. "Maybe I am."
Her expression didn't relax, but she didn't press on, not yet. "Whatever the truth is, Hayato, you must realize this: I don't appreciate ignorance. And I will find out."
He watched her return to her pages, but he knew she was no longer reading. She'd sensed the shape of the truth, even if she couldn't articulate it yet.
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Thanks for reading. You can also give me ideas for the future or pinpoint plot holes that I may have forgotten, if you want.
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