Toui slouched by the door of the unused classroom, the battered sign above him reading "3B", the faded paint peeling around its edges. Though the room was silent, and the hallway peaceful, Toui felt his pulse flicker in the stillness. He hadn't participated in many club activities, choosing instead to prioritize his relentless schoolwork, and the constant overload of homework, projects, and studying sessions seemed to reserve his every waking moment. As he glanced at the time on his phone, he noticed he was absurdly early, almost comically so. Anxiety tingled in his chest, a warning that made time slip by with agitating density.
He stood uncertainly, lingering near the doorway, debating whether it would be better to knock or boldly stroll in as if he belonged. The tremble in his hands made him hesitate, hinting at how unfamiliar and strange this all felt. Through the closed door, he could just make out the muffled echoes of Hanako's gentle voice, a stark contrast to Kaito's booming laughter, a sound that seemed to fill whatever space he was in, generous but uncontainable.
Eri finally appeared in the hall and, spotting him, gave a tiny smirk before she gently caught hold of his sleeve and steered him inside. Even her delicate touch felt like it stung. Toui's senses amplified even more so by his nerves. Toui tried his best to appear as though he'd always belonged there, glancing around the room briefly to avoid any eye contact.
Kaito stood at the blackboard across the room, his tall figure pinning yellow sticky notes connected by a tangle of red string, creating a web of ideas that looked as though it was straight out of a detective movie. Hanako sat, totally absorbed in the paper lying before her. Her brow wrinkled in concentration as she took a highlighter to dense paragraphs printed on a scientific handout. Eri dropped into a chair at one of the many tables that lined the room in rows, tucking her leg to her chest, glancing around. It was obvious; to her, this space was comfortable, comparable to a second bedroom. It all seemed too natural to them. Toui felt like he was a trespasser in a foreign territory. They all fit in so well, and im just… Im just here.
A tight pressure coiled against his ribs, a familiar sensation he had experienced a few nights before; the discomfort wasn't exactly painful nor was it hostile, but it bordered on unsettling, unnatural even. Oddly enough, the tension offered some relief from the unrelenting static that constantly filled his head, reminding him of the present. Kaito noticed him, then his face broke into a bright smile, one that was nearly infectious. He waved with an exaggerated movement.
"Toui! You made it!"
Behind Eri, Natsuka entered, her movements effortless with grace. Her posture was upright but not rigid, a composed energy following her wherever she went.
"Hey, who's this one again?" Eri called out, half-joking with dry sarcasm dripping from her tone.
"Don't tell me you've already forgotten him, Eri. That's cruel," Kaito replied, sneaking up behind her and ruffling her hair with brotherly affection.
"Wait, I think it's coming back to me… Toui, was it?" Eri leaned back in her chair and smoothed her hair down, peering at Kaito with feigned vexation.
Toui awkwardly shuffled into the room, offering a stiff nod that felt more robotic than natural.
"Yeah, that's me…" He managed, forcing a thin, closed-mouth smile that barely creased his lips.
Suddenly, movement in the once still hallway nagged at his senses, causing him to spring to his feet. He darted out, Natsuka graining her head around the doorframe to look. A boy— probably a freshman— sat slumped against the wall, his backpack spilled and open books scattered all around him. His face was pinched with distress, breath coming sharp and ragged, and eyes brimming with tears.
Toui dropped to his knees beside the boy before he even consciously chose to. His instincts took control as he stretched a gentle but shaking open palm to the boy's shoulder. He noticed in detail how the boy's hands trembled and the way his lower lip quivered as he choked back tears, how helpless he looked beneath the fluorescent hallway lights.
As Toui's hand made contact, another wave of pressure squeezed behind his ribs. He inhaled, breathing slowly as a strange static silence settled over them. A heavy, suffocating calm, it was as if time itself had momentarily paused. In those seconds, a draining sensation hummed in his spine, a warmth that left his limbs tingling, gentle yet oddly addicting. His fingers twitched when he finally, almost reluctantly, withdrew them.
"Are you okay?" Toui asked softly, voice saturated with concern.
"Im… fine. Thank you, sir," The boy stammered, wiping his eyes and collecting his book with shaky hands as he stood.
For a moment, Toui was engulfed by the sensation, a unique blend of horror and exhilaration, shock, and longing. It felt both addictive and terrifying, as if it would be easy to fall for the intoxication of it, like candy you couldn't stop craving. Beneath the rush, a rise of panic blossomed, much colder and sharper, completely drowning out the warmth that was now a distant sensation. For the first time, Toui allowed himself to consider, Maybe this.. Whatever it was, it wasn't normal. He'd felt a similar draining twist during that unnatural event in the alleyway days before. He tried to process, to think it through, but Natsuka's gentle hand landing on his shoulder made him flinch. A wave of nausea hit him. I'm cold, he thought as his head spun. He swayed on his feet.
"I need to… go get some fresh air.." Toui whispered almost inaudibly before rushing down the hall.
He nearly stumbled into the lockers that decorated the halls and just managed to avoid a backpack that was left deserted next to them as he sprinted off. Every muscle was tense with a cry to escape from his own skin. His heart hammered so hard against his skull it made his mind ache. The fog of unfamiliar emotion clung to him, the way humidity clings to the air. Did anyone notice? Did anyone realize what had just happened? He wondered, despite not even knowing himself.
With shaky hands, Toui pressed his palm to the cold metal of the school's front door. The outside world seemed like a sort of relief, but also a threat. Light and measured footsteps sounded as they approached from behind him. He pivoted slightly to see Natsuka moving towards him. Her pace was unhurried, each step directed with concern. Her face revealed a deep worry; her usually serene features were cast in a shadow of her worry.
"Toui… are you alright?" she asked, her voice gentle yet insistent
She planted her hands on her hips, anticipating a reply that would shrug her off. Her eyes searched his for any ember of truth behind his disheveled and sickly appearance.
"I guess… I just felt really nauseous for a second," Toui responded, his voice thin. "I'm sorry for rushing off like that. I just didn't want to puke everywhere, you know?"
Natsuka surveyed him skeptically, but after a moment, she simply nodded, deciding to silently respect his struggle. The sight of her friend this shaken made her hesitate to press for more. Instead, she offered him a faint, reassuring smile and gestured back towards the classroom.
"Alright then, if you say so. Let's go back with the others," she said softly. Together they walked slowly down the hall, Toui acutely aware of Natsuka's quiet presence beside him, and the mystery still swirling in his own mind left unanswered, but for now at least, it was a distant worry.
***
The night encroached upon him, weighing down on his consciousness, until it seemed to fill his small apartment, casting long shadows across his floor. Once more, he sat listlessly at the edge of his bed, arms draped over his knees that were tucked against his chest, eyes half lidded with sleep as it evaded him. The air lingered, tense with heavy electricity, yet the room was suffocated in a deafening silence that clung to Toui. It wasn't just the stillness of things, but rather the sheer density of his thoughts, sharp and swirling, that served as noise cancellation to the world around him. No matter how much he attempted to focus on the sound of his own breathing, he realized it was inaudible, blending into the silence. The gentle monotone hum of the fridge was gone, the familiar ticking of the clock that usually kept him present had vanished, and not even the pounding of his own heart— which at times felt like a blaring drum in his ears— could reach him. His mind was dizzy, lost in a screen of disorienting smoke as he stared up at his ceiling, blocking out the details of his otherwise ordinary day.
Out of nowhere, a stabbing feeling pierced his heart deeply. He shrank further into himself slightly, clutching at his chest as a lump rose in his throat, threatening to spill over into tears. Grief crashed through him in unfamiliar waves, the kind one would feel after losing a loved one. The emotion wasn't connected to a specific memory, though. In fact, his thoughts ticked blankly. Then, swiftly, a sudden bout of warmth washed it away, like the gentle touch of a friend. Yet again, it belonged to nothing. No memory, no image, no thought he could pull it from. The sensations tingled through him like someone flipping through television channels, landing on a channel of rage; raw and all-consuming, but quick to disappear.
These emotions… seem so… distant… Toui thought. As he wrapped his arms tighter around his small frame. Are they mine? No. They can't be. But they weren't random, either. It felt as if he were sampling someone's pain and joy, peering through a window to an unfamiliar heart. Each wave felt nostalgic in its own way, yet utterly foreign to him, like overhearing the embers of a conversation. A sense of approval bordered on the edges of his mind, like a distant stranger, almost sticky and sweet, but it wasn't his — not really. Then, the voice paid yet another visit, quiet but insistent, a presence lingering in his own mind. He'd heard it before, though it had only spoken in clipped dialogue, ominous and unhelpful. Now the voice arrived in whispers, brushing against his ears with more unformed sentences. It was as if someone were gently nudging his chin toward a memory he didn't want to remember.
"That's better. Do you see it yet?" The voice whispered, so close he could feel the faintest brush against his cheek.
Toui's memories, already dreary, became further obscured by a thick shroud of fog. He reached for them, desperate for the minute details about his day, but they slipped away at the first touch. Most people don't usually recall what they ate for dinner a week ago, but now, even the events of the afternoon jumbled together, as if he glanced into broken shards of glass, scattered about the ground. He remembered abruptly the panic that panted the face of the kid he had helped in the hallway, so vivid, so clear, but everything else was a blur. He chewed at his lower lip, agitation increasing as he tried to fit these fractured pieces together. Did I eat dinner? Did I lock the apartment door? Did mom get home yet? Even the smallest things, a t-shirt laid on his chair, the weight of his cellphone in his front pocket, felt like pieces of a puzzle that refused to click into place.
The walls of his room seemed to press down on him, even something as trivial as the posters that hung crookedly on his walls, crowding around him, suffocating him in what now felt like a shoebox rather than a bedroom. He rose, shakily, swaying on his feet before stumbling down the narrow hallway, every step feeling too soft, as if the cold tile was never there in the first place. He dragged his fingers along the wall to reassure himself that this was no dream. Pinching his forearm, he restrained a soft hiss of pain. But that was the only sensation that reminded him of reality these days; everything was unreliable, his senses set loose, misfiring in odd ways. Lately, even his reflection in the bathroom mirror felt foreign to him, long hair, pale, sickly skin. He was truly a stranger.
He halted mid-step. Someone in the unseen shadows of his apartment was watching him. He was certain of it, despite not hearing anything. A prickling chill ran down his spine, tingling at his nape. A gaze, hungry and sharp, felt like it was trying to slice a hole right into his chest, ripping out his soul.
"Mine." The voice declared. It was neither a threat nor a promise, just a fact.
Panic tore through him, and he burst back into his room, flicking on his small, battered lamp. Light flooded weakly into the corners of his room as he planted himself in the desk chair. His breathing came in sharp, uneven gasps, hands trembling as he scanned his room to find something, anything, to remind himself. Photos, objects, trinkets. Saccharine washed over him as he pressed a trembling hand to his chest, repeating softly to himself, "Just calm down."
His gaze caught on a collection of photos, messily pinned above his desk, edges curling with neglect. They had been taken at a photo booth years ago on a middle school field trip, when life had some semblance of ordinary and when his days were a familiar routine that repeated itself, a never-ending cycle, boring but sensible. Toui stared at himself in the picture: a grin was plastered across his face, his fingers holding a peace sign. Beside him, Natsuka sat ever candid, her unphased expression marked by the ghost of a smile, a wave of bittersweet nostalgia coiled inside him.
"Im… Toui,, He whispered, clutching the edge of the photo, forcing the name to make sense, to retain its original meaning. Toui meant him; he was Toui after all. He wasn't about to let himself forget that. He said it over and over, hoping repetition would rid his name of its strangeness, but it still felt foreign on his tongue, alien and outlandish even.
First, his skin had felt strange to him, and now his very name. Dread clung to his body, thick and chilly. What if the next thing was something even more important, his memory, or maybe even his soul?
"Toui," the taunting whisper came again, now tinged with dry amusement. It was the first spark of emotion he'd heard dwell in "it"— whatever it was, it seemed to be taking delight in his unraveling.
He slumped into his open palm, hair falling over his eyes like a curtain, locking out the world. His pupils shrank, the whites of his eyes blossoming. He felt himself inching closer towards a slipper path; a darkness he'd never gone near before, where even the possibility of hope seemed illogical, evanescent from his grasp. Flickers of distant voices snapped him upright; he turned, heart hammering, towards his window, curiosity taking hold of him.
Outside, two indistinct voices bled through the open window; one was his homeroom teacher, unmistakable even in its nervous tremble. The teacher lived nearby, and sometimes they would run into each other on the walk to school. But tonight, the tremor in the teacher's usually uninterested voice was unlike anything Toui had heard before. He strained to listen, catching fragments of the hushed conversation.
"Yes, he was close with Jindai," the teacher said, their tension remarkable even at a distance.
"Hm. Keep your eye on him. I'll put him on my watchlist," Came the flat response, an unfamiliar man's voice.
Toui froze, his back pressed flat against his thin apartment walls, craning his neck for a better glimpse of the shadowy figures talking under the streetlamps. From the angle, he could just make out the outlines, but he suddenly knew, as certainly as if it had been spoken aloud, that the stranger looked right at him. Paranoia and anger surged through him. He snapped the blinds shut with trembling fingers and dove into the safety of his messy comforters. How did they know I was eavesdropping?
"Stop ignoring me," the voice protested, softly, clawing its way into his frazzled soul. He tried to push it away, exhaustion pressing down on him with intensity that resembled the night. Eventually, Toui relinquished and slipped into a restless, uneasy slumber, haunted by remnants of voices and the disturbing certainty that all of it was far from over.
The birds' sorrowful cries filled the vast, empty streets, the morning marked by a sky that faded from pink to orange. It wasn't so uncommon to see a lack of the usual city's hustle and bustle at this early hour. Toui rarely even left for school this early; his commute only took him about 15 minutes, serving no cause for concern if he had left even an hour later. However, his room felt as if it were a cage, and in turn, he was the bird imprisoned within it. Surely if he had remained there any longer, he would've exploded. He thought to himself as he dragged his feet along the sidewalk. His shoulders hunched forward, swaying slightly on his feet. His bones felt as heavy as the bags beneath his eyes. Sleep had become a luxury.
Toui hated liars, but he hated lying even more. Natsuka was a perceptive girl; it surprised Toui how quickly she realized that something was wrong. She did so even before him. The picture of her brows furrowed with worry was inescapable in Toui's mind, playing over and over. Guilt struck a deep chord in him, his heart beating faster as the event came to mind. But, even so, he wondered if her concern was necessary in the first place. He was fine.
Some students who often made a habit of arriving at school well before the rest fixed their curious and judgmental stares on Toui as he entered the building. Their attention lingered on him, some whispering among themselves, others mocking him. Their ridicule was barely hidden behind smirks and hushed laughter. It was as if Toui's presence had become a spectacle. This had become a rather mundane part of his routine now.
"Dude, you sure? He looks like a girl." A voice sounded throughout the halls, followed by an explosion of noisy laughter that bounced off the lockers and walls.
Toui kept his head down; it was better to pay them no mind.
Posters worn thin with time crowded the school's cracked walls. Club advertisements in bold lettering and a list of rules— rules nobody ever followed— blended into the background, forgotten by students and teachers alike. Lately, though, a new kind of poster had appeared: unsettling, official notices, crisp and sharp, the corners pinned up by the authorities. They were all adorned with the insignia of the S.I.E.D. — the Sympath infection enforcement division — a military branch that maintained a constant watchful eye on everyone's lives. Their mission was public safety, or so they were told, but Toui and the rest of the school knew what that really meant.
The S.I.E.D. acted fast, always the first to draw their weapons; "cleaning up" the mess their own superiors left over. Sympaths and those infected with sympathy syndrome. The threat hung over the halls as noticeably as the posters themselves.
***
Nerves prickled in Toui's chest as he lingered near the clubrooms' closed door; his heart was pounding loud enough that he worried the others might hear it. A familiar, friendly voice cut through his hesitation.
"Toui? That you? Just come on in, man," Eri called from her favorite spot, a desk worn with time where she sat in the middle of the room, her chin resting on her knees like she was above the use of chairs altogether.
The classroom was once home to neat rows of desks, but now it was an assortment of chaos, furniture scattered around like a tornado had torn through the room. Without Hanako's steady guidance, even the air lingered heavy with buffoonery. Kaito, ever the clown, was next to Eri, clumsily cramming down the last of his school lunch. His cheeks expanded with food as he failed to not crack up at his own antics.
"Mmmphmm…" he mumbled, grinning around his overstuffed mouth instead of finishing the thought.
"Gross, dude, that junk tastes like absolute garbage anyway," Eri teased, unable to hold back an onslaught of laughter. Her amusement only encouraged Kaito, who doubled down with determination to finish the food. He barely swallowed it all down before he began talking again.
"You're the one who dared me to do it." He protested, still grinning and debating whether or not to go in for another colossal-sized bite.
In the back, Natsuka sat tucked into her usual corner, earbuds plugged into one of her ears, the other was free to tune into whatever nonsense Kaito and Eri were up to. A book was open in her lap, reading intently like the chaos was nonexistent. Toui hesitated, blinking a few times, unsure if what he was seeing was usual behaviour, and nearly regretted today's choice to attend the club meeting. The classroom door thunked with a soft slam, causing Kaito and Eri to look up, slightly startled.
"Oh, hey, Toui, I didn't even see you. Come in." Kaito waved, his smile easy despite his mouth once again being full of food.
Natsuka's eyes departed from her book. "Toui, do you wanna go look for Hanako together? We might actually get something done if she's here."
He nodded, and they left the room. Hanako, being a year younger than the others, was still considered a middle schooler, so Toui led the way towards the east wing, having also attended middle school here. He dodged the outbursts of laughter and ridicule from the others. This was the region of underclassmen, posters brighter in colors, classrooms buzzing with a different kind of chaos.
It didn't take long for a teacher to interrupt them. The man's nerves were obvious; he dabbed sweat from his brow, his hands twitchy as he tried to compose himself. "I, uh — Toui, Natsuka— hold on a second.
Hanako spotted them mid-conversation, jogging over, her hair bouncing as she rushed up to the group. "Hi! Toui—"
The teacher cut her off, worry nipping his voice. "I overhear… some talk yesterday. About sympaths. I hope you kids aren't treating this like some kind of game."
Toui blinked, taken aback. Next to him, Natsuka's expression shifted, lips pressed into a thin line, but she was quick to reassure the teacher, who looked like he'd rather be having any other conversation. "No, of course not, sir."
He gave them a long stare, anxiety written in every crevice of his features. "If this grows out of hand, if you start drawing unwanted attention, the school has to place you under strict supervision and potentially shut this little club down."
Hanako blustered, "Excuse me, but it's just a club."
For your own safety, keep it that way," the teacher replied, his rigid stance softening the moment their eyes met.
Toui silently scoffed, biting back his vicious thoughts. Overreacting, the thought, but he kept the opinion to himself.
***
Outside the courtyard, a tall man stood with his back pressed against the brick walls, worn by the weather. Despite his seemingly ordinary attire, there was an air of authority in the way he composed himself. His black polo shirt displayed the subtle insignia of the S.I.E.D., though this detail was hidden beneath a visitor's badge, one that lacked any description, clipped firmly to his shirt's pocket. Concealed in the shadows, he blended easily into the busy campus.
He scrolled absentmindedly through his voice, the device glowing with nothing of importance. Tucked beneath a layer of dark hair was a slim, black earpiece, nearly invisible to any onlooker. Through this, he monitored the ongoing flow of updates, his ear tuned to a teacher's nervous report that was automatically conveyed across the school's campus.
In a hushed, calculated whisper, he spoke into the slim microphone that rested along his defined jaw: "Looks like Jindai's old club is active again. They seem harmless… for now. Keep a watch on them, though, just a precaution."
From his unseen viewpoint, the man was all but invisible to the crowd of students that sauntered past, preoccupied by their own routines. It was all meticulously planned; the less attention, the better. Even the teachers seemed oblivious, except for the scattered few who recognized the meaning of his badge. Moments after the teacher had stepped away from Toui, Natsuka, and Hanako, Toui felt an uneasy pressure tightening within his chest. It was an all too familiar sensation, one that had recently begun keeping him at arm's length from his friends.
The courtyard's crisp autumn air combed through his hair as he drifted through the scattered stretches of sunlight, obscured by the pillars that supported the school's overhead. Every rustle of dried leaves seemed to only heighten his lingering anxiety.
He halted, body rigid, when a muffled conversation tickled at the edge of his hearing. Just out of sight, behind the garden hedge. Was he imagining things, or was he making a habit of eavesdropping now, picking apart stray whispers like an interloper on business that he had no deal with?
He crept closer, stretching his hearing thin in an effort to decode the one-sided conversation. Words filtered through, clipped with urgency.
"If anyone shows signs of infection, we monitor the entire group." The man's tone grew sharp, barely containing a hint of agitation. "Not yet. Don't intervene."
Toui snuck a glimpse of the silhouette, a tall and broad-shouldered man with a posture much too unyielding for a teacher, voice tinged with authority. He wasn't a familiar figure, which only caused the unease to settle deeper within Toui. For a fleeting moment, he imagined the worst; an eerie cage was drawing tighter around their small club.
He muttered under his breath, too quietly for anyone to hear, "Guess the teachers are finally cracking down on clubs." Shoving his hands deep into his pockets, he attempted to adopt a casual pace, even as his heart battered in his chest.
Without warning, the man stepped out from his hidden vantage point, and the strike of his footfall sounded deliberate. It reverberated in Toui's ears, far louder than it should have. Toui halted, his nerves getting the best of him. It felt as if the stranger's presence had become an all-consuming force.
The man studied him with cold assessment, gaze lingering for a second too long. His face was unreadable, eyes like dark honey, suppressed of any information. He broke the silence with a voice so soft, it barely carried on the breeze.
"Stay out of trouble, kid. For your own sake." His tone lingered with warning, gentle yet steadfast. His eyes flickered briskly, an unspoken threat."We'll be watching."
Toui frowned, tilting his head. The message was clear, yet it was laced with an unspoken meaning that Toui could not yet grasp.
Toui stepped back into the clubbrom, the lingering sense of unease tugging at the corners of his expression. The atmosphere inside the room was drastically different compared to without Hanako's not presence. Though beneath her chipper mood, an air of seriousness hung heavy in the class, pulling in the attention of every member.
"Toui, take a seat. I have an announcement," Hanako said brightly, gesturing towards a face he didn't recognize.
"We've got a new member. His name's Riku."
RIku offered a nod, his eyes sending an icy shiver down Toui's spine.
Toui choked back a sigh, that ever so familiar tension churning inside of him. His instincts whispered that something, perhaps dangerous, was drawing closer on the near horizon
He forced a polite smile that was accompanied by a tentative wave, "Hello… Riku."
His greeting was awkward, but he made a pitiful attempt to ease the tension, hoping his unease wasn't too obvious for the rest of the club.
The next afternoon, it was as if Toui's feet had dragged him to the classroom on their own, inside everything was just as he remembered: Kaito's booming laughter, Eri sprawled across the desk, her arms thrown over a stack of homework, and Natsuka's gentle smile.
Even though Toui had never considered himself an official member of the S.S.A., never even formally, it was obvious from the way the others greeted him, they already considered him as one of them. Still, an uneasy feeling hung overhead, like a deflated beach ball. The mood was tense for Hanako and Natsuka, especially after the teacher's unsettling words.
Hanako kept focused on her work, sifting through the latest reports of sympath sightings, her tongue poking out in concentration. She only looked up when she noticed Toui slipping in quietly.
"Toui, there you are!" Hanako called, her eyes lighting up. "We're just going over some of the recent sightings. Have you got anything new to add?"
Toui shook his head. "Nope, not really, I'll let you know if I see or hear anything else that's strange." He stopped for a second. "But teachers are probably going to begin restricting clubs. Safety reasons or something like that.
Hanako nodded, returning to her writing.
Natsuka teased, the corners of her lips slightly twitching, "Looks like you're earlier than usual today, Toui."
He offered a shy, tense smile, rubbing the back of his neck. "I just… didn't have anywhere else to be."
Kaito and Eri had bought a mountain of junk food, snacks, chips, and sweets; it piled up so high it nearly scraped the ceiling. Eri was hidden behind textbooks and papers she had yet to complete, like her own personal cage of unfinished homework. "These teachers should stop working us to the bone. It's going to kill me one day," she grumbled in between bites of her chips.
Hanako pinned the recently annotated notes to the spiderweb of string connecting sympath reports on the corkboard. Toui sat quietly; the mundane chatter of the room was a sharp contrast to the ridicule he often faced in the halls and the loneliness that awaited him at home. Here, if only for an afternoon, life felt ordinary again.
The clubroom door opened with a faint noise. Toui nearly missed it, only catching the silent movement out of the corner of his eye. A tall upperclassman with jet black hair and bangs that hung over his eyes stepped in. Hanako's face softened upon seeing the student.
"Riku! I was hoping you'd come," She offered him an encouraging smile. Riku gave nothing in return.
Erio shot him an assessing glance, cocking a brow as she sized up the newcomer. Hanako turned to the group, gathering their attention./
"Everyone, this is Riku. You remember him… right?" she asked invitingly. "He was invited to join when Jindai was the president."
A faint shadow passed over Riku's features, but he spoke, his voice unexpectedly soft and almost hollow. "Hey."
Toui couldn't help but wonder: Why did this boy's eyes look so haunted? Toui had always thought of himself as someone who could read others, quite accurately, too. But with Riku, it was as if his book had been locked, the key tossed aside. Riku's gaze swept everyone, as if he, too, were searching for hidden stories.
Hanako, eager to make him feel welcome, spoke, "My big brother said you were someone he trusted a lot. Someone he thought could help us keep things together."
Riku dipped his head ever so slightly. "I'll do what I can." He mumbled.
He reminded Toui a bit of himself, awkward, quiet, uneasy. Maybe having another outsider around wasn't a bad idea, though.
Kaito jumped in, breaking the tension with his familiar grin. "Hey, man! I'm Kaito. If you get hungry, we've got enough snacks here to last a year."
Eri glanced up, tossing an empty chip bag across the room, unfazed as it landed directly into the trash. "Yeah, nice to meet you, Riku. Don't mind Kaito, he's always like this. I'm Eri."
Natsuka, poised as always, simply nodded. "Natsuka. I'm glad to meet a new member."
Hanako gestured at Toui, "And that's Toui. He's new here, too… sort of."
For a moment, Toui searched Riku's eyes, finding nothing behind them— no hostility, no joy. It was like peering into a silent, empty desert. It wasn't the absence of emotion on Riku's face that caught Toui off guard, but the sense that there was nothing left behind his expression at all.
The club got back to work: Eri untangled wires for her computer setup in the corner, blue sky pouring light into the room, making it almost cozy. Hanako and Natsuka compared new sympathy reports, noting how much detail the reports now lacked in comparison to the old ones. Kaito and Toui taped more notes onto the sprawling red web.
Toui, standing tiptoe to reach an upper corner, struggled as the stubborn thing just wouldn't stick. His height— something he had never been self-conscious about— suddenly became an annoyance.
"Here. I'll do it." Riku offered quietly, taking the paper from Toui. Without fuss, he tacked it in place on the far corner that Toui couldn't reach.
"Thanks," Toui muttered, surprised at the small courtesy.
RIku simply nodded, wordless again.
"Alright, everyone," Hanako called out, pride saturating her voice. "We're making good progress so far. I think we can do this…even without Jindai…"
The others drifted around her, listening as she continued. Natsuka steadily raised her hand.
"I hope you don't mind me asking, Hanako, but you keep talking about Jindai. Where exactly is he?"
Hanako faltered, a wave of pain wrinkling her expression. She hesitated. "He's… gone. He died two years ago."
Toui could feel the sharp sting of grief pierce her voice. The group fell quiet, searching for ways to comfort her.
Natsuka spoke first. "Im sorry— I didn't mean to bring up something so personal."
Kaito leaned forward, gentler than his usual loud tone. "It's never easy, losing someone. I'd know. But, hanako, what your doing here? Jindai would be proud, really."
Tears shone in hanakos eye. She blinked quickly, fighting them back.
Eri looked down at her hands. "I never got to meet him, but from everything I've heard, he sounds like an amazing guy."
Even though he remained silent, he seemed to tense, a small crack spreading within his aloof demeanor.
Toui found his voice steady for the first time in a while. "Hanako.. I'm sorry you had to go through something like this… you've been handling things so well, I doubt any of us would've noticed. If you ever want to talk… please, just come to me."
Toui's words made guilt twist in his stomach. He had been so preoccupied with his own pain that he had ignored all of the silent suffering that surrounded him. All from people who cared deeply about. People he'd pushed away when they reached out their hands.
Despite everything, Hanko managed a tearful smile. "Thank you. I really… needed to hear that."
Gradually, laughter returned, filling the corners of the classroom. Eri started cracking jokes about Riku's unnatural height. Kaito dramatically challenged him to an arm-wrestling contest. Meanwhile, Natsuka pulled Toui down to sit beside her and carefully gathered his hair back, securing it into a small ponytail.
"There," she said teasingly, "I think it suits you."
Toui felt lighter, like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders, brushing stray hair from his face. "Yeah," he said softly, "It does."