Unraveling the calm

Chapter X

Ayano had always prided herself on her control. Every step she took, every plan she made—it was calculated, deliberate, unshakable. But now, her mind was a battlefield.

Budo's words echoed in her thoughts, pulling at threads she had tightly woven over the years. His presence was a persistent shadow, making her question everything she thought she knew about herself.

Her focus was slipping. She couldn't let that happen.

The next day, Ayano stood by her locker, her eyes flicking toward Taro across the hallway. He was chatting with a group of friends, his laugh echoing faintly through the crowded space. Normally, seeing him would have been enough to steady her, to remind her why she was doing this.

But today, it felt different. Distant.

"You're losing your edge."

Ayano stiffened, the familiar voice sending a shiver down her spine. She didn't turn around. "What do you want, Budo?"

He stepped closer, his tone infuriatingly casual. "Just checking in. You've been a little... distracted lately."

Her hands tightened into fists. "I don't need you keeping tabs on me."

Budo leaned against the locker beside hers, his dark eyes scanning her face. "Maybe not. But someone has to."

She turned to glare at him, her voice low and venomous. "Why can't you leave me alone?"

Budo smirked, but there was no humor in it. "Because I'm not convinced you want me to."

Her breath caught, but she quickly masked her reaction. "You're delusional."

"Am I?" he asked, stepping closer. His voice dropped, low and dangerous. "Tell me something, Ayano. If I'm wrong, why haven't you done anything about me yet? You've had plenty of chances."

Ayano's heart pounded in her chest. He was right—she could have eliminated him, silenced him the way she had with others who got too close. But she hadn't. And that terrified her.

"Maybe I just don't see you as a threat," she said, forcing her voice to remain steady.

Budo chuckled softly. "Or maybe you're starting to realize I'm the only one who can keep up with you."

Her glare hardened. "You're not as special as you think you are."

He leaned in, his voice a whisper that sent a shiver down her spine. "We'll see."

Ayano didn't speak to him again for the rest of the day. She avoided him at every turn, throwing herself back into her routine, her focus on Taro.

But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't shake the feeling that Budo was always there, just out of sight, watching her every move.

That evening, she found herself wandering the halls after school. The building was quiet, the faint hum of fluorescent lights the only sound. She told herself she was just clearing her head, but deep down, she knew the truth.

She was looking for him.

When she reached the dojo, she stopped. The door was slightly ajar, and inside, she could hear the rhythmic sound of a bokken striking a practice dummy.

She stepped closer, peeking through the gap. There he was, his movements fluid and precise, his focus unbreakable.

For a moment, she simply watched, her chest tightening. There was something about him—his intensity, his confidence—that drew her in, even as she fought to resist it.

Then, as if sensing her presence, he stopped. He turned, his eyes meeting hers through the crack in the door.

"Planning to just stand there, or are you going to come in?" he called, his voice teasing.

Ayano's heart skipped a beat, but she forced herself to push the door open and step inside.

"What do you want, Budo?" she asked, her voice cold.

He set the bokken down, his gaze never leaving hers. "I could ask you the same thing. You're the one who came here."

Ayano clenched her fists, refusing to let him see how much his words affected her. "Don't flatter yourself. This was a mistake."

She turned to leave, but his voice stopped her in her tracks.

"You can keep pretending, Ayano," he said softly. "But we both know the truth. You're not just obsessed with Taro anymore. You're obsessed with me, too."

Her breath hitched, her mind reeling. She turned back to face him, her glare sharp enough to cut.

"You don't know anything about me," she said, her voice trembling with barely contained fury.

Budo stepped closer, his dark eyes boring into hers. "I know enough. And I know that no matter how much you try to push me away, you can't stop thinking about me."

The tension between them was suffocating, the air crackling with unspoken words and unacknowledged feelings. Ayano wanted to deny it, to lash out, but the truth was there, staring her in the face.

She hated him. She hated herself.

And she hated how right he was.