Chapter XXXVIII - Bonds Born From Broken Bridges (II)

Minazuki Serena stood in the doorway, one eyebrow arched imperiously as she surveyed the scene before her. Her uniform was its usual study in rebellion—skirt hemmed higher than regulation, blazer unbuttoned, tie missing entirely. A faint scent of cigarettes and expensive perfume drifted into the room with her presence.

"Oddio... are you finally done being corny and cringey?" she demanded, crossing her arms over her chest. "I've been waiting in the hallway for ten minutes listening to you three have your little bromance reunion. It was disgustingly wholesome."

Akise recovered first, sweeping into a dramatic bow.

"The Vermilion Bird graces us with her fiery presence! The Four Auspicious Beasts gather at last—well, with the exception of Seiryuu, who'll be arriving in due time—"

Minazuki-san's eyes narrowed dangerously which made Akise loudly "EEP!"

"Call me a bird again and I'll show you just how 'fiery' I can be."

"Suzaku is the Vermilion Bird of the South," Sosuke explained casually. "It represents summer, passion, and the emotional element of fire. It's not an insult, Minazuki."

Minazuki-san's gaze shifted to him, reassessing.

"And you are...?"

"Takami Sosuke of Class 2-C. I was the original Byakko before I got busy with tennis. Now I'm back, apparently."

"Huh." She studied him for a moment longer, then shrugged. "Fine, whatever. Just don't expect me to wear feathers or cosplay as your mythological menagerie."

Oh no.

"Actually—"

"No." Minazuki-san cut off Akise, who pouted.

Our eyes met briefly, and a flash of shared exasperation passed between us before she looked away, a faint color rising in her cheeks.

I fought the urge to touch her earbud still residing in my pocket.

Sosuke caught all of this.

"So," Minazuki-san said, dropping her bag onto an empty chair. "Are we actually going to discuss this Cultural Festival plan, or are you chaps going to keep reminiscing about your glorious past all lunch period?"

"The plan! Yes!" Akise clapped his hands together, immediately transitioning into what he called his "mission briefing mode." He cleared the center of the command table with a dramatic sweep of his arm, then unfurled what appeared to be architectural blueprints of the school auditorium and scripts to say to Arisato.

"Behold, the battlefield upon which our fate shall be decided!"

Minazuki-san rolled her eyes but moved closer to examine the plans nonetheless.

I felt her shoulder brush against mine.

"Idiota," she whispered so only I could hear.

"Why the sudden abuse?" I whispered back.

"Your smile. It's so stupid that I almost liked it more when you looked like a kicked puppy."

"Almost?"

She paused... and blushed.

"...Shut up."

The Big Three, reunited after years apart.

Plus one scarlet-haired complication I couldn't quite categorize, much less explain.

For better or worse, the Four Symbols Club was reborn.

* * *

Two days passed. It was Thursday evening.

The fluorescent lights of Sunrise Mart hummed their familiar electronic lullaby as I methodically restocked the refrigerated drinks section. My reflection in the glass door stared back at me. It was the same uniform, same face, same person I'd always been.

And yet, profoundly different.

I caught myself humming the beginning phrases of Echi Perduti.

The notes came unbidden, rising from some newly awakened place inside me that I'd thought permanently sealed. My fingers moved against the cold plastic bottles, finding invisible keys, practicing chord progressions I hadn't played in years.

"Are you... whistling?"

Mizushima-san's voice startled me from my reverie. She stood at the end of the aisle, clipboard in hand. She looked at me like I was growing a third arm.

"Ah, was I? Sorry about that." I arranged the final bottle in a perfect row.

"Don't apologize. It's nice." She tilted her head, studying me. "You seem... different today."

"Do I?"

"Mmm." She made a notation on her clipboard. "Usually you're so careful, like you're walking on eggshells. Today you're practically floating."

"Just in a good mood, I guess."

"Well, whatever it is, keep it up. It's good to see you like this."

She moved on to the next aisle, but her observation lingered.

I was in a good mood—a genuinely good mood. The reunion with Sosuke, the rebirth of the Four Symbols Club, even Minazuki-san's grudging participation in our plans... for once, the pieces of my fragmented life seemed to be aligning in a pattern that made sense.

It felt dangerous to acknowledge, as if noticing happiness might cause it to evaporate like morning mist.

"Yo, Zombie-kun! Looking less dead than usual!"

Kokonoe sauntered into the back room, adorning a uniform shirt only half-tucked, hair styled with his usual excessive attention. He dropped into the break room chair across from me as I organized inventory forms.

"Thanks... I think?"

"Seriously, though... Is it a girl? You've got that look."

"What look?" I fought the heat rising to my face.

"You know—" He gestured vaguely at my face. "That stupid grin guys get when they've finally got a shot with someone hot. Come on, spill! Who is she?"

"Ahhh... fine! I get it! You don't kiss and tell. Hey, respectable, bro."

He slouched off before I could correct him.

"They've noticed at school too."

I nearly dropped the stack of forms at Kanzaki's quiet observation. He'd materialized beside me with his usual ghostly silence, methodically sorting return bottles into their respective crates.

"Has anyone ever mentioned you move like a cat burglar?" I grumbled, gathering the scattered papers.

"Occasionally." A hint of a smile played at the corners of his mouth. "You're different at school too. More present."

"Present?"

"Mhm. Less like you're looking through everyone, more like you're actually seeing them. It's noticeable."

I considered this as I straightened the forms. I hadn't consciously changed my behavior, but perhaps that was precisely the point. For years, I'd carefully calculated every interaction, measuring responses against expectations, modulating my personality to whatever the situation demanded.

But now, I didn't really... care?

I was... starting to be fine existing as an imperfect and authentic being.

"You knew Sosuke," I said abruptly. "Somehow, you knew exactly who to send when Midou cornered me."

Kanzaki continued his work, expression unchanged.

"I pay attention to things."

"That doesn't explain how you knew Sosuke and I were friends. Or that he'd help me. Or that Midou was planning to ambush me at the east exit."

"Patterns." He shrugged slightly. "People follow patterns. Midou's anger is predictable. Sosuke watches you more than you realize. The connections weren't difficult to make."

"So you've just been... what? Controling events from the shadows?"

The question came out sharper than I'd intended, an edge of accusation I immediately regretted.

Kanzaki finally paused, turning to face me directly. There was no offense in his expression, only that same calm consideration that made me wonder, not for the first time, just how much he saw when he watched the world through those eyes covered by his bangs.

"I nudge occasionally. Small things. Mentioning to Minazuki that she should check up on you when you left in a hurry on Monday. Suggesting to Mizushima-san that we might stock Italian snacks. Telling Sosuke where you might need help."

"...How long have you been doing this?"

"Since you started working here." He resumed sorting bottles, as if we were discussing something as mundane as the weather forecast. "You seemed like you needed... choices."

"Choices," I echoed, unsure whether to feel disturbed or touched by this revelation.

"Options. Paths. Possibilities that weren't self-deletion."

He spoke bluntly.

So..

He saw through me.

He knew I was struggling with myself even with my perfect mask.

That I had been considering suicide for weeks, possibly even months.

"...Why?" I choked out.

He considered this for a long moment, head tilted slightly as if listening to some internal calculation.

"If the result is Kagami Shouma's happiness, then... does the process behind it really matter?"

That disarmed me.

I searched for a rebuttal, for some reason to be disturbed by his subtle manipulations, but found none. The fruits of his "nudges" surrounded me now—renewed friendship, rekindled passion, fragile new connections that might, someday, become something sustainable.

How could I resent the invisible hand that had helped guide me back toward something as valuable as living?

"I... guess not," I conceded.

I looked straight back at him.

"Thank you, Kanzaki."