𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐄𝐓 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓.

── .✦ 12

Monday

The days blurred together after Osano Najimi disappeared from the school grounds, swallowed whole by a silence that everyone pretended not to notice.

Y/n Murakami kept to herself in those first few mornings, stretching her recovery longer than necessary just to avoid the world. Her room became a quiet shelter—one she barely left, save for feeding Pochi or opening the window to let in the chilled breeze. If she could've stayed buried under the blankets forever, she would have. But time didn't wait for anyone, and school resumed like nothing had happened.

Osano's family left town shortly after. No goodbyes, no formalities—just a moving truck and drawn curtains, the kind of exit reserved for shame and grief. Rumors floated, of course. Whispers in the hallway, speculative glances, dramatic sighs. But no one mentioned Ayato. No one ever did.

Y/n walked the same path to school that morning with her headphones tucked into her ears but no music playing. Just the illusion of a barrier between her and everything else. The sky was overcast, with pale light filtering through in broken beams, and the air smelled faintly of damp concrete and autumn leaves.

She adjusted the strap of her bag, feeling the subtle shift of weight against her shoulder. Her other hand curled into her coat pocket, fingers brushing against a small treat she'd bought earlier for Pochi. The little creature had been a rare source of calm in the chaos lately. Every time she looked at those round eyes and twitching whiskers, something in her chest softened.

Ayato hadn't contacted her since their last interaction—and part of her was grateful. He was an enigma she wasn't ready to untangle. She didn't want to decipher his cold logic or try to pretend that his words didn't leave bruises where no one could see. The boy moved like shadow—controlled, precise, unfeeling. But sometimes, she caught flickers of something else in him. Not warmth. Not care. Just... hesitation.

She didn't know what to make of that. She wasn't sure she wanted to know.

Her phone buzzed. A message from Taeko.

Taeko: "Wanna walk together?"

Y/n's thumb hovered over the screen. A simple offer. Friendly. Normal. But Taeko hadn't mentioned anything about Ayato. Not once. No late-night confessions, no casual slips about spending time with him. It was the silence that spoke volumes. And it made something twist in Y/n's stomach—something she couldn't name without it hurting.

She typed back a polite excuse and tucked her phone away. Maybe another time.

Instead, she had taken a detour that morning. The small pet store down the alley had opened early, and she'd ducked in just as the owner was flipping the sign to "open." She bought more bedding for Pochi, some food, and a squeaky toy she didn't need but couldn't resist. The normalcy of the errand had been grounding.

Her footsteps echoed faintly in the school's main corridor now as she slipped through the gates with the other early arrivals. Faces she recognized but didn't greet. Friends who once asked questions but had learned to stop when she gave vague answers.

She traded her shoes at her locker, the quiet click of the door closing behind her sounding louder than it should have.

Taeko was probably nearby. But today, Y/n didn't want to talk. She didn't want to pretend like things were fine, or that she hadn't noticed the space growing between them, filled with unspoken truths and careful omissions. She wanted peace. Just for a little while.

Her mind wandered to the baking club.

Amao's voice echoed in her memory, warm and steady.

"You're always welcome here, Murakami-san."