Unraveling the calm

Chapter IX

The following week, Ayano couldn't escape Budo's presence. It was as though he had decided to insert himself into her every move, his dark gaze lingering just long enough to unsettle her before he vanished again.

Worse, he wasn't subtle. He hovered near her in the halls, his voice cutting through her conversations with classmates, his presence a constant reminder that he was there, watching, waiting.

She hated it. She hated him.

But she also hated the way her heart sped up whenever he was near.

It was late afternoon when she found herself on the rooftop, the crisp breeze cutting through the oppressive weight of her thoughts. This was her sanctuary, the place where she could think clearly.

But even here, she wasn't alone.

"I thought I might find you here," Budo's voice came from behind her.

Ayano turned sharply, her fists clenched. "Do you ever stop following me?"

Budo leaned casually against the railing, unbothered by her anger. "Not when I'm having so much fun."

She glared at him, her voice icy. "What do you want, Budo?"

He stepped closer, his expression shifting from playful to serious. "I want to know why you're so scared of letting me in."

Ayano's heart skipped a beat, but she refused to let it show. "I'm not scared of you."

"Oh, I think you are," he said, his voice low. "Because you know I'm right. You know that if you let me in, you won't be able to hide anymore. You'll have to face who you really are."

She took a step back, the wind whipping her hair around her face. "You don't know anything about me."

Budo closed the distance between them, his dark eyes locking onto hers. "I know more than you think. And I know you're not just some lovesick girl chasing after a fantasy. You're something much more dangerous."

Ayano felt her breath catch, but she forced herself to stay calm. "If you know what I'm capable of, then you should stay out of my way."

Budo smirked, but there was no humor in it. "And if I don't?"

She narrowed her eyes. "Then I'll make sure you regret it."

For a moment, neither of them spoke, the air between them crackling with tension. Then Budo reached out, his hand brushing against her wrist.

"You're not the only one who knows how to fight, Ayano," he said softly. "But I'm not your enemy. Not unless you make me one."

His touch was like a spark, igniting something deep within her—a mix of anger, fear, and something else she couldn't name. She yanked her arm away, her voice trembling with barely restrained fury.

"I don't need you," she said, each word like a dagger.

Budo smiled faintly, his gaze never leaving hers. "You keep saying that, but I think we both know it's not true."

Without another word, he turned and walked away, leaving Ayano standing there, her chest heaving with unspoken emotion.

She hated him for getting under her skin, for forcing her to confront the parts of herself she wanted to bury. But most of all, she hated the way a small, dark part of her wanted him to come back.

That night, Ayano sat in her room, staring at the photograph of Taro she kept hidden in her drawer. Her obsession with him had always been her guiding light, the thing that gave her purpose. But now, that light was flickering, overshadowed by the storm that was Budo Masuta.

He was a threat to her plans, her focus, her control. And yet, he was also something more—a challenge she couldn't ignore, a presence she couldn't escape.

As she slipped the photo back into its hiding place, a thought crept into her mind, unbidden but impossible to shake:

What if Budo wasn't just a distraction? What if he was the only one who truly understood her?

The question lingered, haunting her as the night stretched on.