---
The sound of flesh hitting flesh echoed in the dark.
A small boy, no older than five, curled on the floor, trembling with every strike.
"N-No… Father! Please… stop!" he cried, voice cracking.
A tall silhouette loomed over him, belt raised high. The boy's sobs echoed against the bare walls.
Then—darkness.
---
Akira woke with a start, gasping, his sheets soaked in sweat. Heart hammering, he gripped the blanket like a lifeline, as if the memory could drag him back into the nightmare.
"Again…" he muttered, voice hoarse.
He didn't linger. Dressed quickly, he left for school alone, the chill of the morning failing to touch him.
---
Hinata woke late, rubbing her eyes. Akira wasn't there.
Her stomach twisted. He never left without her.
Panicking, she dressed in a rush and bolted toward school.
The front gate was swarmed with police officers. Tension hung over the grounds like fog. Students whispered urgently, faces pale.
Hinata's eyes immediately found Akira. He stood rigid, gaze locked on the officers like a predator assessing prey. Something about him—his focus, the intensity—made her stomach drop.
One officer stepped forward. "Your names?"
Hinata swallowed. "I'm Hinata Usuki… and this is Akira Toizawa."
Akira didn't speak. His eyes were on the badge, sharp, unreadable.
The officer's voice was calm, clinical.
"We regret to inform you that two of your classmates—Sakura Rizoni and her boyfriend—were found dead early this morning."
Hinata froze.
"They… they were murdered?" Her voice barely carried.
"Yes," the officer said. "The nature of the crime is consistent with the recent family massacre. Highly likely the same killer."
Hinata's stomach knotted. Her mind flashed back to the family… and now this.
She looked at Akira.
Nothing.
Except…
A flicker of rage. Burning. Uncontrolled.
Not shock. Not sadness.
Hatred.
Why was he angry? Why did it feel directed at… everything?
---
The day dragged. Every whisper, every glance from classmates, hit Hinata like a hammer. She barely recognized her own hands, trembling when she reached for her bag.
Akira remained distant, silent, moving through the school like a shadow.
By the time she reached her room, night had fallen.
She lay on her bed, staring at the ceiling, mind racing.
Could… could he be the one?
Her hands clenched the sheets. Heart thrumming against her chest.
Tomorrow.
Tomorrow she would confront him.
Tomorrow, she would get answers—or something much darker would be revealed.
And somewhere beyond the walls of her apartment, a shadow lingered, silent and still. Watching.
---