As Shiro Sakamaki chatted with Kobayashi, a certain presence returned—and immediately tensed up.
Tohru landed with a slight frown and stepped between them.
"Koboyashi!"
"Hey~ Tohru, you're back," Kobayashi said with a smile. "How was your visit?"
"Fine," Tohru replied curtly.
The two women fell into easy conversation, their dynamic naturally shutting Shiro out.
Seeing no point in lingering, Shiro turned to Kanna Kamui, still perched on his shoulder. "Let's go."
They left the apartment quietly.
---
Scene: The Scent of Blood
As they walked downstairs, Kanna, who had been quiet until now, sniffed the air and muttered, "Shiro smells like blood... Did you get hurt?"
"Hm? You can smell that?"
He was surprised—he'd carefully used spiritual energy to cleanse all traces. There shouldn't have been any scent remaining.
"It's faint," Kanna replied, "but weird. It's not your blood."
"…You're right. It's not."
---
Scene: An Unexpected Guest
When they arrived at the apartment, Misaki was already waiting at the door.
"Misaki-senpai? What brings you here?"
"Ah! It's Misaki!" Kanna chirped, running up to her.
After that last awkward encounter, Kanna had warmed up to Misaki quite a bit.
Misaki ruffled Kanna's hair and smiled at Shiro. "Hey~ I came to hang out. I've been so bored lately."
"The animation's done, and I've got nothing to do."
She sounded casual, carefree as always—but Shiro caught something off in her tone. A faint flicker in her eyes. Sadness, maybe.
Most people wouldn't have noticed. But Misaki's usual cheerfulness made her current expression feel jarringly out of place.
Could it be Mitaka Jin? Shiro wondered, but didn't push.
Instead, he opened the door. "I'm glad you came by, Senpai. But next time, at least text me first. I'd hate to keep you waiting."
He pointed to the flower pot. "If I'm not home, the spare key's under there. Just let yourself in."
"Nice~"
---
Misaki made herself at home, flopping onto the sofa like it was her own place.
Perhaps to escape whatever was bothering her, she immersed herself in games until sleep took her. Kanna had already curled up in her room.
Shiro didn't bother going to bed either. He lay on the floor beside the couch and drifted off.
That night, he had an unusually vivid dream.
It was warm. Womb-like.
The sun shining gently over the city...
---
Shiro stirred awake the next morning, groggy and cold.
Wait... something's heavy.
He rubbed his eyes—and froze.
Misaki was lying sprawled across him, curled up like a cat. Her soft breath tickled his neck, and her long orange hair fanned out around them.
Because of her school uniform, a patch of pale skin peeked out from under the hem, though her posture was more kittenish than provocative.
Asleep, Misaki looked nothing like her usual bubbly self. Her face, framed by messy hair, was peaceful. Serene. Almost delicate.
She seemed... vulnerable.
They must've both dozed off in the living room, Shiro reasoned.
And with the night still chilly, it was natural she'd gravitate toward the closest heat source.
Carefully, using his shadow, he lifted her off and gently placed her back on the sofa.
He grabbed a blanket from the bedroom and tucked it around her, making sure she was warm.
Then he headed to the bathroom to freshen up.
As the door closed, Misaki's lashes trembled faintly. A soft pink spread across her cheeks.
---
After breakfast, Shiro left with both Misaki and Kanna.
First stop—he dropped Kanna off with Tohru.
Then, he accompanied Misaki to Shuiming High School.
Before leaving, Misaki hesitated. "Hey, Shiro... Mind if I come over again tonight?"
He nodded without hesitation. "Of course. You're always welcome, Senpai."
Then, more gently, he added, "But next time, try being a little more honest with me. If something's bothering you, I might be able to help."
Misaki blinked, then grinned like nothing was wrong. "Sure! I'll count on you, Junior!"
Shiro watched her disappear into the school gates before turning to leave.
---
As Misaki stepped onto campus, a figure lingered behind the school wall, just out of sight.
Mitaka Jin.
But unlike his usual self, his expression was stiff—almost twisted.
And the way he looked at Misaki…
It wasn't affection.
It was possessive.
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