Aoi Sato's concern was a persistent, warm ember in the grey landscape of Yuki's existence. She watched him with an intensity that bordered on obsession, her dark eyes tracking his every movement in class, noting the increasing pallor, the way he moved with a stiff, unnatural grace, the subtle tremor in his hands that hadn't been there before Hana died. She saw the distance he imposed, the walls he built, and it only made her more determined to breach them.
She cornered him after school as he was leaving the gates, the autumn sun casting long shadows. "Tanaka-kun! Wait up!"
Yuki tensed, instinctively pulling the cuffs of his jacket lower over his wrists. He turned slowly, his expression carefully neutral. "Sato-san."
Aoi fell into step beside him, undeterred by the coldness radiating from him. "You look exhausted," she said, her voice soft but firm. "More than usual. Are you sleeping? You look like you haven't slept in weeks."
"I sleep enough," he muttered, keeping his gaze fixed on the pavement ahead. The hum in his bones seemed to intensify near her warmth, a discordant buzz that made his teeth ache.
"Is it… nightmares?" she asked gently. "About Hana-san?"
Yuki flinched inwardly at the name. The nightmares were gone, replaced by a dreamless void. "People grieve differently, Sato-san," he said, the words clipped. "I need space."
"I know," she agreed, her voice quiet. "But space doesn't mean shutting everyone out. It's okay to not be okay, Yuki-kun. It's okay to lean on people who care."
They walked in silence for a block, the only sounds the rustle of fallen leaves underfoot and the distant city noise. Yuki could feel Aoi's presence beside him like a physical force – a beacon of life, of warmth, of normalcy that felt almost painful in its intensity. It was a stark contrast to the cold void within him. He also felt Kage's subtle shift in his mind, a faint ripple of cold interest, like a predator sensing prey nearby.
As they passed a narrow alleyway between two shuttered shops, Aoi stumbled on an uneven flagstone. "Whoa—!" She instinctively grabbed Yuki's arm to steady herself, her fingers closing around his forearm just above the wrist.
The moment her skin touched his, even through the thin fabric of his jacket, she gasped. Her eyes widened in shock, and she snatched her hand back as if she'd touched a live wire. She stumbled back a step, staring at her own hand, then at his arm, her face paling visibly.
"Sato-san?" Yuki asked, turning to her, a flicker of alarm cutting through his numbness.
Aoi was rubbing her hand vigorously, her breath coming in short, startled puffs. "Y-you're… freezing," she whispered, her voice trembling. "Like… ice. I've never felt anything so cold." She shivered violently, wrapping her arms around herself. "And… did it just get colder? There's a chill…"
Yuki looked around. The late afternoon sun was still warm, casting a golden glow. The air was still. No wind blew. Yet, Aoi was visibly shivering, her breath misting in front of her despite the mild temperature. A fine layer of frost seemed to crystallize on the nearby metal grate of a drain cover.
A chill on the wind. But there was no wind.
Yuki felt a surge of cold panic, distinct from his usual internal frost. His unnatural coldness. It wasn't contained. It was leaking. Radiating outward, affecting the environment, touching her. He saw the fear bloom in Aoi's eyes, replacing concern with something primal and unsettling.
"I… I don't feel well," Aoi stammered, taking another step back, her gaze darting nervously around the alley mouth as if expecting to see something lurking in the shadows. "I should go. I'll see you tomorrow, Tanaka-kun."
She didn't wait for a response. She turned and hurried away, hunched against a chill only she could feel, her footsteps quick and uneven on the pavement.
Yuki stood rooted to the spot, watching her disappear around the corner. The spot where her hand had touched his forearm tingled faintly, a strange echo of warmth rapidly fading. He looked down at his hands, then at the empty space where Aoi had been. The alley mouth felt colder now, the air still and heavy with unspoken dread.
He slowly raised his hand, palm out, towards the spot where Aoi had stood. He focused, not on summoning power, but on simply feeling. A faint distortion shimmered in the air around his fingertips, a visible ripple of cold, like heat haze but inverted. Tiny ice crystals began to form in the air, catching the dying sunlight before melting.
The chill wasn't just in his veins anymore. It was an aura, an extension of his corrupted essence. It was spreading outward, touching the world around him. Touching her.
The realization was a physical blow, stealing what little breath he had. He had sought power to protect, to avenge. Instead, he was becoming a source of fear, a walking pocket of unnatural cold that harmed the very people he might once have cared about. The weight of that knowledge settled in his gut, colder and heavier than any frost. He was a danger. A contamination.
He turned and walked home, the setting sun painting the world in hues of blood and ash, the chill following him like a faithful, invisible shadow.