The rumors didn't fade.
If anything, they had grown sharper overnight, spreading like wildfire through the school.
By the next morning, it was no longer just whispers—it was a suffocating, inescapable presence, a weight pressing down on Ili with every step he took.
He thought about skipping school. He almost did.
But staying home wouldn't stop it.
Wouldn't stop them.
Wouldn't stop Tatsuya.
And that alone was enough to push him forward, even as his gut twisted with something dangerously close to dread.
Walking the hallways felt like walking into an ambush.
The moment he stepped inside, he felt the shift—eyes tracking him, hushed voices trailing behind him like venom-laced shadows.
"Did you hear? She was practically begging him to leave her alone."
"I saw them together. He looked… unhinged."
"She probably doesn't know how to get rid of him without making it worse."
The words dug into his mind like hooks, tearing at whatever resolve he had left.
Ili clenched his jaw, his breath shallow as he forced himself to keep moving. His steps were stiff, controlled—but the control was slipping.
His vision tunneled, the air too heavy, too thick, too loud.
And then—Kouko.
A brief glimpse through the crowded corridor.
His heartbeat stuttered, his body screaming at him to move, to say something—anything.
She looked tense. Different.
Her shoulders were drawn in just slightly, her usual easy stride more careful, more deliberate.
She's feeling it, too.
Their eyes met for a fraction of a second.
A single, fleeting moment.
And then—she looked away.
A gut punch.
A hollow ache coiled in his stomach, his hands twitching at his sides.
Does she believe them?
No. No, Kouko isn't like that.
But the doubt clawed at him anyway.
For Kouko, the day passed in a blur of unease, the tension in the air thick enough to choke on.
At first, the stares were subtle—glances that lingered for a second too long before flicking away.
But by the afternoon, it had become suffocating.
She could feel it.
The weight of their judgment pressing against her like an invisible chain.
And the whispers—the whispers were impossible to ignore.
"She's probably just entertaining him. Maybe she likes the drama."
"Or she's too scared to say no. Who knows what he might do."
The words burned into her skin.
It made her feel sick.
She wanted to turn around and scream at them, to tell them they were wrong—but she knew it wouldn't stop anything.
Drawing more attention would only make things worse.
And the worst part?
Ili heard them, too.
She saw it in the way his hands curled into fists when he walked past.
The way his shoulders tensed, his gaze darting as if looking for an escape.
She wanted to go to him.
To tell him she didn't believe any of it.
But every time she tried, the words caught in her throat.
What could she say?
What could she possibly say that wouldn't make things worse?
By the time the last bell rang, they were both barely keeping it together.
Kouko found herself in an empty classroom, the soft hum of the city outside barely registering as she buried her face in her hands.
The words from the day echoed in her head, looping over and over, carving into her like invisible wounds.
She was exhausted.
Frustrated.
Terrified.
Meanwhile, Ili stood outside the building, leaning against the cold wall, staring at nothing.
His breathing was slow, his heartbeat uneven, erratic.
He could still hear them.
The voices, the whispers, the sideways glances.
And Kouko—
Kouko walking away.
The memory sent a sharp sting through his chest.
The weight pressing down on him felt unbearable.
For the first time, he realized—
This wasn't just about rumors.
This was about breaking him.
And if it continued like this—
Tomorrow might be the day it finally worked.
Fractured Bonds
The next morning, the classroom pulsed with energy—soft laughter, the rustling of notebooks, the sharp tap of pens against desks. Sunlight filtered through the windows, its golden glow mocking the tension coiling inside Ili.
He sat by the window, his expression unreadable, gaze locked on the courtyard outside. But his mind was elsewhere.
The rumors. The whispers. The feeling of being watched.
His fingers tightened around the edge of his notebook, its blank pages staring back at him—a mirror to the chaos raging beneath his carefully held mask.
The weight pressing down on him was unbearable.
Then—a rustle inside his bag.
Frowning, Ili reached in and pulled out a thin envelope.
His name was scrawled across the front in sharp, hurried handwriting, the ink dug deep into the paper, as if written with too much force.
His pulse quickened.
Sliding out the letter beneath the desk, he unfolded it with careful hands. The words inside were messy, but deliberate—each stroke pressed deep into the page like a knife carving its message.
"You should've stayed where you came from. Stop pretending, or we'll make you disappear."
A slow chill spread through his limbs.
The blood drained from his face.
Yet his grip on the letter didn't loosen.
His breathing slowed, deliberate, fighting the fire clawing at his ribs.
The paper crinkled beneath his fingers as he folded it back up.
He slid it into his bag. Not now.
Not here.
Then—a voice, too smooth, too casual.
"Hey, Ili."
That voice.
The air in his lungs turned sour.
Even before he looked up, he already knew.
Ili looked up, already knowing who it was. Tatsuya leaned against the desk beside him, the picture of smug nonchalance. His posture was too relaxed, his smirk too sharp, and his eyes gleamed with thinly veiled malice.
His posture screamed confidence, but his eyes… they were waiting for something.
"What do you want?" Ili asked flatly, forcing his grip on his pen to relax. He wouldn't give him the satisfaction.
Tatsuya shrugged, his movements slow, deliberate. "Oh, nothing much. Just thought I'd check in." His eyes gleamed. "You've been awfully quiet lately. People are starting to notice."
Ili's jaw clenched. "Maybe you should mind your own business."
Tatsuya laughed lightly, the sound grating, infuriating. He didn't sit down, but he lingered, invading Ili's space without ever moving.
"Oh, but I would," he said smoothly, "if it weren't for the rumors."
The air felt heavier.
Tatsuya's smirk deepened as he leaned in just slightly, lowering his voice.
"They say you've been aggressive."
"Especially with Kouko."
The words hit like a gut punch.
Ili's breath caught in his throat, his fingers tightening beneath the desk.
The classroom around him dimmed—not physically, but in his mind, everything narrowed to just this moment.
A slow, measured inhale.
Ili turned to him, finally meeting his gaze, his voice quieter, sharper.
"Why don't you say what you really mean?"
Tatsuya laughed quietly, the sound low and grating. "Oh, come on, Ili. Don't shoot the messenger. I'm just repeating what I've heard. You're the one giving people a reason to talk."
The air crackled between them.
Tatsuya was waiting for this.
He leaned back, lazy, taunting, and shrugged. "Relax," he drawled. "I'm just trying to help you out. You take things so seriously—it's no wonder people don't like you."
The words burned.
But Ili refused to let them show.
Refused to give him that power.
His expression remained cold, detached. "Maybe if you spent less time starting fires and more time doing something worthwhile, people might actually respect you."
For a split second—Tatsuya's smirk faltered.
It was quick. Barely noticeable.
But Ili saw it.
And then—Tatsuya recovered.
A low chuckle. "Careful, Ili." He pressed a hand over his chest in mock offense. "You might hurt my feelings."
The tension snapped as the teacher's voice rang through the classroom.
"Alright, settle down, everyone. Let's get started."
Tatsuya straightened in his chair, throwing one last smug glance at Ili before turning to face the front. Ili exhaled through his nose, his grip on the desk tightening until his knuckles turned white. His thoughts raced, the letter's words echoing in his mind alongside Tatsuya's voice.
"You'd better stay away."
The pen in his hand trembled. He forced himself to take notes, the rhythmic scratching of pen on paper grounding him just enough to keep his mind from spiraling.
But deep down, he knew this wasn't over. Tatsuya wasn't just spreading rumors—he was circling like a predator, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
And Ili wasn't sure how much longer he could keep himself from snapping.
The bell rang, signaling the end of the lecture. Chairs scraped against the floor as students began to pack their things, their chatter filling the room once again. Ili moved methodically, shoving his notebook into his bag, his movements stiff and deliberate.
The bell rang.
The moment the lecture ended, Ili moved with purpose, shoving his notebook into his bag.
He needed air.
But Tatsuya was already there.
Blocking his path.
Leaning against Ili's desk, as if this were his moment to strike.
He didn't say anything at first.
Just watched.
Smirked.
Ili adjusted his bag, meeting his stare with cold, unwavering eyes.
"What now?"
Tatsuya pushed off the desk with a casual stretch.
"You're awfully defensive for someone who claims they have nothing to hide."
Ili exhaled through his nose. "You're not worth my time."
He turned—but Tatsuya's voice followed him.
Low. Taunting. Poisonous.
"That's right—run away. You're good at that, aren't you?"
Ili froze.
His grip on his bag strap tightened.
Slowly, he turned back, his eyes burning with a quiet fury.
"Say that again."
The classroom fell silent.
A few lingering students paused, their gazes flickering between them, sensing something on the verge of breaking.
Tatsuya's smirk widened, his stance shifting slightly, as if preparing for impact.
"You heard me."
His voice was dripping with mockery.
"You're just an outsider, Ili."
"No one cares what you think."
"And no one cares about you."
A single beat of silence.
Then—
"Kouko."
Tatsuya's smirk softened just slightly as he shifted his gaze to the door.
Kouko stood there, her expression a mix of concern and unease.
She glanced between them, her gaze lingering on Ili before settling on Tatsuya.
"What's going on?" she asked, her voice firm.
Tatsuya immediately softened, that practiced charm sliding into place.
"Oh, nothing," he said smoothly. "Just a friendly chat."
Kouko didn't buy it.
Her brows furrowed, her eyes flickering back to Ili. Something was off.
"Let's go," she said finally, her voice leaving no room for argument.
Ili hesitated.
His fingers twitched, every muscle in his body screaming not to let this slide.
But Kouko's presence—**her voice, her stare—**was enough.
Without another word, he turned and followed her out.
His chest burned with frustration.
But he forced himself to let it go.
For now.
As they disappeared down the hallway, Tatsuya's smirk finally faded.
His fingers tapped absently against the desk, his posture still relaxed—but his eyes were cold.
Calculating.
Watching.
Ili had resisted this time.
But it wouldn't last.
"This isn't over."
Tatsuya muttered under his breath, his smirk curling back into place.
His grip tightened into a fist.
Not until I bury him completely.