Chapter 33 : Whispers before winter

The morning chill nipped gently at their cheeks as Nene pulled her scarf tighter and quickened her pace. The streets were still damp from last night’s drizzle, and a pale gray sky hung overhead.

“Ugh, my fingers are already freezing,” Emiko grumbled, flexing her hands inside her blazer sleeves. “Why is winter always so sneaky? It creeps in like a cat.”

“It’s not even real winter yet,” Yuka said softly, hugging her schoolbag close to her chest. “Just a warning breeze.”

Nene smiled a little. “Still… I kinda like it. Makes everything feel quieter.”

The four girls walked down the narrow street that led to their school—shoulder to shoulder but without the same laughter they once shared. There used to be five of them. Now, the gap beside Yuka felt too obvious.

“She used to race us up this slope,” Hana said suddenly, her voice a little tight. “Always cheated at the end.”

No one had to ask who she meant. The silence that followed was heavy with the absence of Mikuya.

As they reached the school gate, the usual morning chatter buzzed around them. A group of girls near the entrance whispered in hushed tones, their eyes flicking briefly toward Nene’s group before returning to their gossip.

“I heard she killed someone,” one girl said, half-laughing, half-serious.

“No way. My cousin said she was part of some underground group. Like an assassin or something,” another added.

“She always gave me creepy vibes. All quiet and weird... Like, not normal quiet. Like psycho quiet.”

That was when Hana stopped walking.

Her body stiffened, fists clenched tight at her sides. Nene noticed too late.

“Hana—no, wait—” Nene started, but Hana had already turned back.

“What did you just say?” Hana’s voice cut through the air like cracked glass.

The group of girls went silent for a second, startled. One of them tried to scoff. “Uh—mind your own busin—”

Before she could finish, Hana shoved her hard by the shoulder. “Say it again. Say it to my face.”

“Hana!” Yuka grabbed her arm while Emiko stepped between them quickly.

“Hana, stop—this isn’t worth it,” Emiko muttered, trying to hold her back.

“She was our friend!” Hana shouted, eyes blazing. “You think you know anything about her? You don’t know a damn thing!”

The other girls backed off, mumbling and retreating. The moment passed, but the weight of it lingered in the air. Hana was breathing heavily, her face flushed with rage.

“She’s not a monster,” she whispered.

The others stayed close as they walked toward the school building in silence. No one said anything more until they reached the classroom.

---

The bell rang softly.

Class had started. The windows were fogged near the corners, and the scent of chalk hung in the air. The teacher droned on at the board about some formula, but Yuka wasn’t listening.

She was staring at the seat beside hers.

It was still empty. Still untouched.

Mikuya’s name tag remained on the desk, a little faded. No one dared remove it.

Sometimes, she imagined her walking in late like always, apologizing half-heartedly, hair slightly messy from running. Sometimes she wanted to believe that any second the door would creak open and—

“Yuka?”

She blinked.

The teacher was staring at her, arms crossed.

“Could you read the equation?”

“…Yes, sir,” Yuka said quickly, rising to her feet and brushing the cold from her fingertips.

But as she answered, her eyes drifted again toward the empty seat.

---

School ended at 4 PM, the sky already darkening, a chill settling into the air.

The four of them stood outside the gate, the last ones to leave. The breeze was picking up, rustling the dry leaves along the road.

“I’m sorry,” Hana said suddenly, rubbing her arm. “I shouldn’t have lost it earlier.”

“You were just being honest,” Nene replied. “They had no right to talk like that.”

“She’s out there,” Emiko nodded. “And she’s not done yet. I can feel it too.”

The cold wind brushed past them again. But this time, it wasn’t bitter. Just… a whisper, like someone still watching over them from a distance.

Scene shift : The hideout

The soft glow of afternoon light filtered through the cracks in the hideout’s windows, casting long shadows across the floor. Sora stirred slowly from his sleep, his eyelids fluttering open. For a moment, he lay still, letting his blurry vision adjust to the unfamiliar warmth of the room. The weight of exhaustion clung to his limbs like a blanket.

He sat up, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand, and glanced around. The room felt quieter than usual.

His breath caught for a moment as he noticed the time—afternoon.

Afternoon?

Sora quickly pushed himself out of bed, his heart racing. He dashed to the door of the small room, opened it, and stepped into the dimly lit hallway. His eyes darted from side to side, searching for any sign of Mikuya.

“Where is she?” he muttered under his breath, the silence wrapping itself around him like an eerie cloak. The tension in his chest tightened. She was usually up long before this, always on her feet, always moving.

He walked hurriedly through the hideout, his footsteps echoing in the emptiness. But no sign of her. No sign of anything.

He swallowed, unease creeping into his mind. He couldn't understand it. Where could she have gone? Was she… gone?

Just as the panic began to settle in, the front door creaked open.

Mikuya stepped in, her figure emerging from the fog outside. She held a small bundle of bread in her hands, the faint scent of warm, freshly baked loaves trailing in with her.

“Where were you?” Sora asked, the words slipping out before he could stop them. He took a quick step forward, a worried frown on his face. “And why didn’t you wake me up?”

Mikuya glanced at him, a glimmer of something unreadable in her eyes, before she shifted the bread in her hands and sighed lightly.

“You needed rest,” she replied softly, her voice colder than usual but with a gentle edge. “You hadn’t slept for days, Sora. I wasn’t going to disturb you.”

Sora couldn’t argue with that. His fatigue had weighed heavily on him, and he knew he’d been running on empty for far too long.

“I wasn’t tired… I just couldn’t sleep,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. His gaze softened slightly. “But still… you didn’t have to leave me in the dark like that.”

Mikuya’s lips pressed into a thin line, her eyes flickering toward the bread in her hands. For a moment, she didn’t speak.

“I’ve been thinking…” she said finally, her voice quieter, as if testing the words on her tongue. “About everything we’ve been through. The Agency...”

Sora looked down, his fingers curling into fists. The past few months had been nothing but a blur of fighting, running, and surviving. The Agency’s relentless pursuit, their twisted experiments, their constant hunting. It had all started to feel like a never-ending nightmare.

“I can’t let them get to us, Mikuya,” Sora said, his voice firm despite the exhaustion in his bones. “We’ve made it this far. We can’t let them take that from us.”

Mikuya nodded, her expression unreadable. She took a step toward him and handed him a piece of bread. The warmth of it, so simple and mundane, felt oddly comforting.

“Eat,” she said, her tone a little softer now. “You need to regain your strength too.”

Sora took the bread from her hands and bit into it, the taste of it grounding him, momentarily pushing away the chaos of their situation. He chewed thoughtfully before speaking again.

“I don’t understand why they’re so obsessed with us,” he said after a moment. “We’ve fought them off before, so why do they keep coming back? What do they want from us?”

Mikuya’s eyes darkened as she looked away, her hands tightening around the bread she still held. She seemed distant for a moment, lost in a thought only she understood.

“They want what we’ve got,” she said quietly. “They want our power. Our connection… to the things we’ve lost.” Her voice grew colder, harsher as she added, “And they’ll keep coming, no matter how much we resist. They don’t stop.”

Sora swallowed another bite of bread, his chest tightening. The weight of their fight was always there, but sometimes it felt too heavy to bear. They couldn’t outrun them forever. He didn’t know how much longer they could keep fighting.

But then he saw Mikuya’s face—so steady, so determined. And he knew she’d keep going, no matter the cost.

“Mikuya…” he started, but she cut him off with a shake of her head.

“We’ll figure it out,” she said, her voice steady. “One day, this will end. We’ll make sure of it.”

Sora didn’t know what to say to that. Instead, he nodded and offered her a small smile. “Yeah… I believe you.”

Mikuya stared at him for a moment, her lips twitching into something like a smile. But it was fleeting, vanishing almost as quickly as it came.

“Eat,” she said again, her voice carrying a touch of warmth now. “We’ll need our strength for whatever comes next.”

Sora nodded again and finished the bread, a sense of quiet understanding settling between them. The fight wasn’t over. But for now, in this brief moment of peace, they could hold on.