Chapter 11: Shadows of the Past

The sun fell below the horizon, leaving long shadows on the still streets. The heat of the day dissipated into the chilly hug of dusk. Haruto Kirigami trudged home, fists deep in his pockets, eyes scanning the ground. The relaxing excursion to the park during the day should have lightened his mood. Instead, the burden of his history lingered about him like a specter.

His thoughts replayed the short meeting with Hyuka Ayomi—the girl who had broken his fragile trust long ago. Her unexpected return had reopened wounds he believed he'd long buried.

Sleep eluded him that night. Haruto tossed and turned under his thin blanket, shadows dancing on the ceiling. Memories fought their way to the surface—the rejection, the laughter, the whispered rumors.

In his dreams, he was in the middle of a busy hallway. Faces went blurry around him, voices calling out in warped sounds.

"You actually thought she'd like you?"

"Pathetic."

A younger version of him stood stock still, fists balled, tears on the verge of falling.

Then the dark figure reappeared—his own reflection twisted by self-hatred.

"You haven't changed at all. You're still weak."

Haruto sat up in bed with a start, gulping for air. Sweat plastered his brow. He rubbed his chest gingerly, pushing a hand through his hair.

"It's. just a dream," he breathed.

But on a deeper level, he was certain it wasn't.

The following morning, Haruto stumbled into class, eyes heavy-lidded and shoulders knotted. He dropped into his chair near the window, hoping to become invisible.

But Nasaki Kitta saw immediately.

She observed him from the other side of the room, her mischievous smile softening into silent concern. He was quieter than normal—even for him.

At lunch, she sat next to him without invitation.

"You look like a zombie," she joked softly, attempting to diffuse the tension.

Haruto did not respond.

Nasaki leaned in, chin on her hand. "Another bad night?"

He looked at her but remained silent.

She didn't prod. She just stayed by his side, saturating the quiet with her presence.

Even without speaking, Haruto experienced something warm thud into his chest—something he couldn't identify.

The last bell rang, and the corridors hummed with students leaving for home. Haruto rushed through, anxious to avoid more interactions than necessary.

But destiny had other ideas.

"Haruto."

He stiffened at her tone.

Hyuka Ayomi lingered several feet back, clutching at her bag.

Her brown eyes struggled with hesitation.

"… I wanted to see you," she mumbled softly.

Haruto's heart crimped up but his face still stolid.

"There's nothing to be discussed."

Hyuka winced but refused to turn back. "Please. I realize that I offended you earlier. I just—wish that I never had done what I did.

Haruto's eyes stayed on the ground. The hurt deep within him began to stir, ready to rise to the surface.

"It doesn't matter anymore," he grumbled.

Hyuka clenched her lip, searching for the words.

"But it does," she breathed.

The discussion was about to go further before a familiar voice interrupted the tension.

"There you are, Kirigami."

Nasaki Kitta stood beside him, her characteristic playful smile hiding the keen glint in her eyes.

"Sorry to interrupt, but we've got places to be."

Without waiting for permission, she grabbed Haruto's wrist and tugged him away.

Hyuka opened her mouth to protest but quickly fell silent as Nasaki's gaze flicked toward her—calm, yet unmistakably protective.

Haruto allowed himself to be pulled along, too numb to resist.

They walked in silence until they reached the school rooftop—one of the few places where the world seemed to slow down.

Nasaki finally released his wrist and leaned against the railing, looking out at the receding sky.

"You're not very good at keeping secrets, you know," she whispered.

Haruto leaned against the wall, pushing his hands back into his pockets.

"It doesn't matter."

"Liar."

He winced at the familiar term.

Nasaki looked at him, her amber eyes warm but unyielding.

"You can hurt, Haruto. You can care."

Haruto folded his fists, his nails digging into his palms. The defenses he had spent so many years erecting came crashing down.

"It's in the past," he growled.

"But the past still aches, doesn't it?"

The words sliced into him, making him gasp for breath.

For a brief moment, there was no word from either of them.

Then, unexpectedly, Haruto's shoulders began to shake.

He spun away abruptly, covering his face.

But Nasaki saw the small glint of moisture gathering at the corner of his eye.

Instead of saying anything, she leaned closer, her voice barely above a whisper.

"It's okay."

Haruto gritted his teeth, trying to swallow the lump in his throat.

"Don't… don't look at me."

Nasaki's lips curved into a soft smile.

"I'm not looking," she teased gently.

A shaky chuckle escaped Haruto's lips—barely audible, but it was there.

After a long silence, Haruto finally turned back to face her. His usual cold mask was gone, replaced by something fragile and raw.

"Thank you," he whispered, his voice barely steady.

Nasaki's heart skipped a beat.

For a moment, she forgot how to breathe.

Then, as if breaking free from her own shock, she smiled back.

"You're welcome, Kirigami."

By the time they strolled home together, Haruto's typical standoffish look had returned. He jammed his hands back into his pockets, acting like nothing had occurred.

But Nasaki saw the slight difference—the way his steps were just a little lighter, the way his shoulders didn't feel quite so weighed down.

And although Haruto would never acknowledge it, he saw something too.

For the first time in a long time.

He didn't quite feel alone.