Hayate Igarashi is a Tokyo rich kid who finds life extraordinarily boring, that is until his attention is gripped by the angel-faced Touma Kirigaya who ebbs him every time he looks at him. Why can's he forget about Touma?
Not only that, but one nig...
Hayate sat down on the bench next to Dashi. He handed her the convenience store bag. She grinned as she opened the bag and pulled out a sweet roll filled with bean paste. She bit into it. Hayate had never actually liked those sweet rolls, mostly because he never ate it when he was a kid. He never developed a taste for the convenience store snack. And he hated beans. He felt like gagging whenever the scent filled his sense of smell.
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He watched her quietly as she nibbled at the sweet roll. She ate like a child. She somehow got the filling on her cheek.
There was something different about Dashi's appearance. She seemed slightly taller. Her body was plumper. Her hair had become straighter. Her face rounder. Her nose sharper. She had changed. If Hayate had been a different person, he would not have recognised her.
But it was still her. Her voice was the same. And he would never forget that singsong tone she always had.
"How are you alive?" he asked, his voice hoarse.
Dashi glanced at him, "Ryogetsu is alive," she said. "Yuuki, too."
He sighed. "Were you reincarnated?"
"Never died." Hayate's jaw tensed. Hundreds of years and she still had not learned how to speak properly.
"That's not right," he said, "I killed you. I know I did."
Dashi stared out in front of her without a word. She quietly munched on her sweet roll.
If Dashi never died, how had she withstood strangulation? He could still recall the deep indentations in her skin after he murdered her. She had been dead. No ordinary human could have survived what he put her through.
But if she was telling the truth... if she had never died... What was she?
Dashi rolled the plastic bag the sweet roll had been in into a ball. She started playing with it, rolling it between her palms.
Hayate's eyes narrowed on her. She noticed, and a small smile appeared on her lips. Wasn't she scared? He had murdered her. Or he had tried to. He had thought there would be some semblance of fear she would feel, and yet here she sat, smiling.
Dashi pulled her legs onto the bench, pressing her knees to her chest. She twirled a lock of her yellow-white hair between her fingertips.
He didn't know why he was here. Maybe it was curiosity. Maybe something else. He felt that, standing here now, there was nothing he had to say to her. He despised Dashi to his very core. She was responsible for Yuuki's end. Killing her was the one thing he never regretted from the last years of his life. And it was the one thing that had been undone.
