The next day, the morning sun filtered through the tall windows of Kiyose High, casting a golden glow over the busy hallways filled with the buzz of students. Takuma walked through the crowd, keeping his head down as usual. He’d grown used to blending in with the sea of faces, but today felt different, like a subtle shift had taken place beneath the surface.

As he made his way to his locker, a familiar voice called out from behind him. “Hey, Kuroda!”

Takuma turned and found Miu approaching, her smile as bright and effortless as ever. She was dressed in her school uniform, but even that looked somehow different on her—pristine and polished, just like the confident way she carried herself. He noticed a few curious glances from their classmates, the whisper of murmurs trailing behind her like an echo. It wasn’t every day the school’s most popular girl stopped to chat with someone like him.

“Morning,” she said, leaning casually against the lockers next to him. There was an ease to her posture, like she’d done this a hundred times before, even though they’d only recently started talking outside of school.

“Morning,” Takuma replied, trying to sound natural. He felt the weight of eyes on him, and his nerves prickled. Why did this feel more intimidating than facing Daichi?

Miu seemed unfazed by the attention. “So, did you get any cooking practice in last night, or was that just talk?” she teased, a playful glint in her eyes.

Takuma smirked, crossing his arms as he relaxed a little. “If by practice you mean heating up instant ramen, then yeah, I’m basically a chef now.”

Miu laughed, the sound soft and musical. A couple of students passing by did a double-take at the sight of Takuma making her laugh, but he pretended not to notice. “Looks like I’ll need to save you from your culinary disasters after all,” she said.

The bell rang, signaling the start of first period, and Miu pushed herself off the lockers. “I guess I’ll see you at lunch?” she asked, her tone casual but expectant.

Takuma nodded, surprised she’d even thought to ask. “Yeah, sure.”

As she walked off down the hall, Takuma turned back to his locker, his mind still replaying the brief conversation. The hallway noise had faded, but the memory of her smile lingered like a phantom. He couldn’t shake the feeling that everyone else was now watching him differently, as if they were trying to solve a puzzle they hadn’t noticed before.

“Hey, Takuma,” a voice called, pulling him from his thoughts. It was Ryuji, one of the few guys he considered an actual friend. He had a mop of messy brown hair and a perpetually laid-back demeanor that never wavered. “What’s going on between you and Miu? People are already talking.”

Takuma felt his face heat up. “Nothing. We’re just friends,” he said, closing his locker with a soft clang.

Ryuji raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Uh-huh. And I’m just friends with the entire soccer team,” he joked, nudging Takuma in the ribs. “Come on, man. Spill.”

“Really, it’s nothing,” Takuma insisted, but the memory of Miu’s laughter played in the back of his mind, making him question his own words.

Throughout the morning classes, Takuma found it hard to concentrate. His eyes would flicker over to Miu’s seat across the room, where she sat with perfect posture, answering questions confidently. Occasionally, their eyes met, and she’d offer him a quick smile that sent a ripple of whispers through the students around them.

By the time lunch rolled around, Takuma could no longer pretend the day was normal. He found himself on the rooftop of the school, where the breeze was cool, and the city below stretched out in every direction. It was quieter up there, a place he often went to clear his mind.

“You know, this is the worst place to hide,” Miu’s voice interrupted his thoughts. She stepped through the doorway to the roof, balancing her lunch tray with practiced ease.

“I wasn’t hiding,” Takuma said, though they both knew it was a half-truth.

She sat down beside him, not too close, but close enough that he could catch the faint scent of her perfume—something floral and light. They sat in a comfortable silence for a moment, listening to the wind rustle through the fencing that surrounded the rooftop.

“So,” Miu began, taking a bite of her rice, “did you really get in trouble with Mr. Tanaka yesterday?”

Takuma shifted uncomfortably. “Yeah, he’s worried about me losing control or something. I’m suspended from the dojo for now.”

Miu’s eyes softened, and she paused, as if weighing her next words. “You know, I’m glad you were there yesterday. Aya and I… we were terrified.”

Takuma didn’t know what to say, so he simply nodded. The wind carried the faint sounds of the city up to them, filling the silence with a familiar, calming noise.

“Anyway,” Miu said, changing the subject with a grin, “don’t think I’ve forgotten about your cooking challenge.”

Takuma couldn’t help but chuckle. “Great. Now I’m doomed.”

Miu laughed, the sound echoing across the rooftop, and for a moment, the world seemed lighter, as if the tension from the past few days had been carried off by the wind.

Miu glanced over at him, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Oh, you have no idea how doomed. We’ll start with something simple—tamago-yaki. If you mess that up, there’s no saving you.”

Takuma leaned back against the railing, his mouth twisting into a grin. “Eggs? You’re underestimating me.”

She raised an eyebrow, feigning shock. “Underestimating? No, I’m preparing for the inevitable. I’m fully expecting you to burn the eggs and somehow set off the smoke alarm.”

He laughed, the tension in his chest loosening a bit. It felt oddly easy being here with her like this, trading jabs like old friends. But beneath the lighthearted banter, he felt a strange new pressure—the awareness that this connection, whatever it was, brought its own set of expectations.

“Challenge accepted,” Takuma said, pretending to roll up his sleeves. “But when I become a master chef, you’ll owe me an apology.”

Miu pretended to consider it, tilting her head. “Fine. But if you fail, you’re on dish duty for a month.”

Takuma’s eyes widened in mock horror. “You’re ruthless, you know that?”

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“Only when I need to be,” Miu replied with a smirk, taking another bite of her lunch. The breeze ruffled her hair slightly, making her look effortlessly carefree.

For a moment, Takuma found himself watching her, the way the sunlight caught the edges of her hair and highlighted the determined set of her jaw. He glanced away quickly when she turned to him, hoping she hadn’t noticed.

“Takuma,” she said, softer now, the teasing edge gone from her voice. “I meant it when I said we’re in this together. Whatever’s going on… you don’t have to face it alone.”

He met her gaze, surprised at the sincerity he found there. The weight of her words settled in the space between them, and for a second, he felt a flicker of something he hadn’t felt in a long time—hope.

Before he could respond, the door to the rooftop burst open with a loud clang, startling them both. Aya appeared, her eyes wide and filled with urgency.

“There you two are! Have you heard? Daichi’s back at school, and he’s causing a scene in the main hall,” Aya said breathlessly, glancing between them.

Miu and Takuma exchanged a look. The easy comfort of their rooftop moment evaporated as reality came crashing back in. Takuma clenched his jaw, already feeling the tension coil in his muscles.

“Well, looks like peace is short-lived,” Miu said, standing up with a resigned sigh.

Takuma nodded, the humor in his eyes replaced by a steely resolve. “Guess it’s time to see what trouble finds us next.”

They followed Aya back inside, the air between them charged with an unspoken understanding. Whatever came next, they would face it—together.

Miu, Takuma, and Aya made their way down the crowded hallway toward the commotion. Students parted as they walked, their whispered speculations swirling in the air. Takuma kept his expression neutral, his eyes scanning the crowd for Daichi. He spotted him standing in the middle of the main hall, surrounded by a handful of his friends, a confident smirk on his face.

To Takuma’s surprise, Daichi's expression changed when their eyes met. The smirk softened into something more controlled, almost calculated. It was as if Daichi had decided that today was not the day for outright confrontation.

“Ah, Takuma,” Daichi called out, his voice smooth and deceptively friendly. “I was hoping to run into you. We haven’t properly talked since… well, since our last encounter.”

Aya stiffened beside Takuma, her fingers clenching into fists. Miu’s eyes narrowed, a spark of distrust flashing in them. Takuma took a step forward, nodding curtly. “Looks like you’re back on your feet,” he said, keeping his voice steady, refusing to show any sign of the wariness coursing through him.

Daichi chuckled, spreading his hands out in a show of camaraderie. “Yeah, the doctors cleared me. They said I’m tougher than I look.” His eyes flicked toward Miu, lingering for a moment before returning to Takuma. “Listen, about what happened… I think it’s time we put it behind us.”

Takuma’s eyes widened in disbelief. This wasn’t the Daichi he knew—the one who thrived on conflict and loved to flaunt his strength. Beside him, Miu’s brows knitted, and Aya’s tension did not waver.

“Put it behind us?” Takuma echoed, unable to mask the skepticism in his voice.

Daichi shrugged. “There’s no point in dragging it out. We’re classmates, after all. No sense in fighting when we could just be… civil.”

The silence that followed was palpable. Takuma didn’t trust the sudden shift, but he also couldn’t find an excuse to escalate things without seeming unreasonable. He forced himself to nod slowly. “Fine. Civil.”

“Glad we see eye to eye,” Daichi said, his tone pleasant, but something about the gleam in his eyes set Takuma’s teeth on edge. With that, Daichi turned, walking away with his friends in tow, their laughter echoing through the hallway like a warning.

Once he was out of earshot, Aya let out a sharp breath. “That was too easy. What’s he playing at?”

Takuma’s jaw tightened, a nagging feeling gnawing at him. “I don’t know. But I don’t trust it.”

Miu glanced at him, a worried frown tugging at her lips. “We need to be careful. This isn’t over, whatever he says.”

Takuma nodded in agreement, the sense of unease growing within him. As they walked back to class, he couldn’t shake the feeling that Daichi’s sudden change in demeanor was just the surface of something much more dangerous.

----------------------------------------

Later that evening, Takuma made his way to a secluded area of the park, where he had agreed to meet someone he could trust. The sky was beginning to darken, casting long shadows over the quiet pathways. He needed to be ready for whatever Daichi had planned, and that meant reaching out to someone strong enough to help.

The figure was already waiting, leaning casually against a tree. Sam, an upperclassman with a reputation for being both fiercely independent and powerful, glanced over as Takuma approached. He was known for keeping his distance from school politics, but if anyone could match Daichi, it was him.

“You’re late,” Sam said, his tone neutral, though there was a trace of amusement in his eyes.

Takuma exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “Thanks for meeting me.”

Sam pushed off the tree, crossing his arms as he studied Takuma with sharp eyes. “You don’t call in favors. Not unless you think it’s serious.”

“It is,” Takuma admitted. He glanced around, ensuring they were alone. “Daichi’s plotting something. I don’t know what, but whatever it is, it’s not good.”

Sam’s expression shifted, his gaze turning steely. “You want me to watch your back?”

Takuma nodded, feeling a strange sense of relief that he wasn’t doing this alone. “If things get out of hand, I might need your help.”

A small smirk lifted the corner of Sam’s lips. “Alright, Takuma. I’m in. But you owe me one, and I collect in ways you won’t like.”

Takuma chuckled dryly, knowing that was just Sam’s way of lightening the tension. “Deal.”

As they stood in the quiet park, Takuma felt the weight on his chest ease slightly. Whatever Daichi was planning, he wasn’t facing it without allies. And that made all the difference.

The moon hung high in the sky, casting a pale glow over Takuma’s small, dimly lit room. He sat on the edge of his bed, the only sound the rhythmic ticking of the clock on the wall. The day’s events replayed in his mind, particularly the strange encounter with Daichi. It didn’t sit right with him, and even with Sam’s promise to help, the unease gnawed at his thoughts.

Takuma exhaled, rubbing his hands over his face before leaning back against the wall. The tension in his muscles refused to ease, his body still primed for the threat that lingered just beyond the horizon. What was Daichi planning? The sudden, calculated civility felt more like the calm before a storm than genuine peace.

As the silence wrapped around him, Takuma’s mind drifted beyond the immediate danger, toward something more elusive: the future. High school was just a chapter, but it wouldn’t last forever. What came after that? His heart clenched as he thought about it—uncertainty clawed at him, mingling with a deep-seated fear that he hadn’t allowed himself to confront.

What do I even want? he wondered, eyes shifting to the small photo frame on his desk. It held a picture of him as a child, his mother kneeling beside him, both of them laughing as the summer sun bathed them in warmth. Life had felt simple then. Back before he understood the power that simmered inside him. Back before he had to be constantly on guard.

Takuma stood up and walked to the window, opening it to let the cool night air in. It brushed against his skin, calming the restless energy that hummed through his veins. He gazed out at the quiet street below, the familiar neighborhood bathed in silver light. The idea of leaving it all behind—of finding a way to live without constantly looking over his shoulder—felt like a distant dream.

But Takuma knew he couldn’t stay trapped in the past, nor could he drift aimlessly. There was more than just surviving; there was living. The image of Miu’s smile as she showed him around her house surfaced in his mind, unbidden. Her laughter, warm and genuine, had sparked something within him, a longing for normalcy, for moments that didn’t come with consequences.

The thought stirred a determination in him. He couldn’t just be a shadow walking through life, defined only by his strange power and the conflicts it brought. Once he finished high school, Takuma wanted more. He wanted to travel beyond the confines of the city, see the world that lay beyond it. Maybe find answers about himself, about the power that had defined so much of his life.

But to get there, he had to survive the now. He had to make sure that Daichi’s shadow didn’t loom over his future or the people he cared about. Takuma’s fists clenched at the thought of his friends being dragged into danger. He would fight if he had to, but he would do it his way—with precision, not recklessness.

The sound of a text notification jolted him from his thoughts. He picked up his phone and saw a message from Sam: "Keep your head up. The storm is brewing faster than we thought. Be ready."

Takuma’s eyes narrowed as he read the words. The resolve settled in his chest, solid and unyielding. He wouldn’t let Daichi control the narrative or bring chaos unchecked. With allies like Sam and the silent promise he felt in Miu’s unwavering support, Takuma knew he could face whatever was coming.

And maybe, just maybe, once this storm passed, he’d find the clarity to plan not just for survival, but for a future worth fighting for.