I should have expected it.
After what she said—after the way she looked at me before walking away—I should have known that Ayane wouldn't just leave it at words.
She meant it when she said she'd take everything from me.
But I didn't realize how far she was willing to go.
---
It happened after school, when most of the students had already left. The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows through the hallways. I was on my way out when something felt… off.
The air was still. Unnaturally quiet.
Then, the crash.
A sharp, deafening sound of something heavy splintering against the tile floor.
I turned my head just in time to see it—the old school board, large and wooden, coming loose from the second-floor railing, plummeting straight toward a student below.
No time to think.
I lunged.
I barely managed to shove them out of the way before the board slammed into the ground, sending up a cloud of dust and shattered wood. The impact echoed through the empty corridor.
For a moment, neither of us moved.
Then, the student—a first-year, still trembling—stammered, "I-I didn't see—"
"You're fine," I said, steadying them before they could collapse. "Go."
They hesitated for a second, but the look in my eyes must have convinced them. They bolted down the hallway, footsteps echoing as they disappeared.
I exhaled slowly, heart still pounding.
That wasn't an accident.
The screws had been removed. The board had been loosened just enough to fall at the perfect moment.
If I hadn't been here—if I had been even a second late—someone would have died.
I turned my head slightly.
She was watching.
Ayane stood near the far end of the hallway, arms crossed, leaning casually against the wall. She looked completely at ease, as if she hadn't just orchestrated someone's potential death.
Her dark purple hair caught the dim light, her gaze cool and unreadable. But beneath the surface, I could sense it.
She was testing me.
I stood up, brushing dust from my sleeve. "You could've killed them."
Ayane's lips curled into a smirk. "Maybe."
I didn't move. Neither did she.
She wanted me to say something. She wanted me to acknowledge what she had done.
Finally, she sighed, tilting her head slightly. "I was starting to wonder if you'd really let it happen."
I clenched my jaw. "This isn't a game, Ayane."
She stepped forward, her shoes clicking softly against the tile. "Oh, but it is, Ken. You just don't like the rules."
I didn't answer. I couldn't.
Because I knew what she was about to say.
She took another step closer, voice quiet but firm. "You can't stop this unless someone dies."
A cold weight settled in my chest.
She wasn't bluffing.
She was making it clear—this wasn't about revenge through petty high school games. This was something far worse.
I studied her carefully. "You never used to be like this."
Ayane's smirk faded, just slightly.
Then she let out a quiet breath, shaking her head. "I was naive back then."
She didn't say it outright. But I knew.
The man who had helped her.
He had twisted her, sharpened her into this.
My hands curled into fists. "Who is he?"
Her expression didn't change. But I caught the flicker in her eyes.
For a moment, I thought she might answer.
But then she laughed softly. "What does it matter, Ken?"
Because he made you like this. Because he turned you into someone who thinks taking a life is the only way to end this.
But I didn't say that.
Ayane sighed, casting one last glance at the broken school board. "Well, that was fun." She stepped past me, her voice lowering just enough for only me to hear. "I hope you're ready. Because next time… you might not be fast enough."
Then, she walked away.
I didn't stop her.
I didn't call out to her.
I stood there, staring at the wreckage she left behind, feeling something settle deep in my chest.
She had drawn the line.
And for the first time since she returned—I wasn't sure if I could stop her.
---