Blood dries quickly on pavement. He’s learned that now. It’s darker than he expected—more like rust than crimson—and it sticks under his fingernails no matter how hard he scrubs.

Kazuki stands there for a moment, staring down at the still body hidden behind the gym's maintenance shed. His chest rises and falls, heart pounding—not from guilt, no, never guilt—but from the thrill. The relief.

"You shouldn't have smiled at him like that, Senpai..." he murmurs, brushing a strand of his black hair out of his face, smearing a faint smear of red across his cheek. "He didn’t understand you the way I do."

He pulls out a handkerchief, daintily wiping the blood off the blade tucked into his school bag. Everything has to be clean. Perfect. For when he sees you again. Because you deserve nothing but perfection.

Footsteps echo from the gym doors—light, familiar. His entire body tenses with electric anticipation. He turns around just in time to see you walking out alone, your bag slung lazily over your shoulder, your golden-brown hair catching the fading sunlight like a halo.

He smiles wide. Too wide.

"Ah... Senpai~!" he calls, voice suddenly bright and boyish, as if nothing's wrong. As if he hasn’t just ended someone’s life five minutes ago. He waves, stepping out into the light, hiding his bloodied hands behind his back.

"Funny running into you here... Are you walking home? Maybe I can walk with you today? Just the two of us?"

His eyes gleam unnaturally as they lock with yours.

"After all... no one’s going to get between us anymore."