We sat on the rooftop, the wind brushing past like a whisper between worlds. The sun was setting, casting long shadows over the city — beautiful, yet distant, like a memory I couldn't grasp.
Yuuzuki didn't speak for a while. Her fingers clutched the hem of her skirt as if trying to anchor herself to something real.
"I knew they'd come eventually," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
I turned to her slowly, my pulse steady but cold. "You're not surprised."
She gave a small, bitter smile. "No. I've seen that man before. The one in the classroom."
"Who is he?"
She paused, then looked at me with eyes that no longer belonged to the cheerful girl I knew. They were deeper now — burdened.
"He's with the same organization that killed my parents."
The words hit me like a crack in glass, silent but shattering. I stared at her. Her presence had always felt like light — gentle, untouched. But now I saw the scars hidden beneath her smile.
"I always thought I was the only one," I said.
She nodded. "Me too. Until I saw you."
There was a silence between us. But not the kind that pushed people apart — the kind that draws them closer.
"I never wanted you to be dragged into this," she continued, looking down. "But maybe we were both already part of it before we ever met."
I leaned back, eyes fixed on the sky. It was turning violet now.
"You knew about me?" I asked.
"I didn't know everything. But… I could feel it. The way you looked at the world — like someone who had already seen it burn."
That silence returned. And then I spoke, slowly.
"I won't let them take anything else from me."
Yuuzuki looked at me, and for the first time, I saw it — not just sorrow or fear, but determination.
"Then let's stop running," she said. "Let's face them. Together."
The wind howled softly, as if echoing her words. For the first time in years, I didn't feel alone in the fight.