(V2) Chapter 4: Companion

Wide busy road.

Traffic at a standstill, horns blaring.

In the center of it all—an overturned car, wrecked beyond recognition, its frame crumpled like a discarded toy. Smoke hissed from the broken engine, twisting into the air like a ghostly omen.

Car doors creaked open. People began to step out, phones raised. Some whispered. Some gasped. Others simply watched.

Another accident.

That’s all it was to them.

Except it wasn’t.

Two small hands clawed their way out of a shattered window. Fingers trembled, pressing against glass shards and metal debris. The moment people saw them, their expressions changed—some curious, some concerned.

Some…afraid.

The child pulled himself free, dragging his tiny body onto the pavement. His clothes—torn. His skin—painted red.

His legs, twisted unnaturally beneath him, should not have been able to move.

And yet, he stood.

Wobbling. Trembling.

Still standing.

Bandages covered his side, probably an injury from earlier.

"Mom...Dad…"

The words barely escaped his lips. His voice was hoarse, cracking, swallowed by the chaos around him.

His face was a mess of blood and tears, streaked together in an unholy mix.

He turned, searching desperately.

But they weren’t there.

Steam turned to smoke, and the smoke ignited to small flames.

People started taking steps back from the scene.

And then—

Crack.

A small explosion erupted from the wreckage, sending a ripple of heat through the frozen crowd. Flames licked the sides of the car, devouring the steel like a starved beast.

The boy staggered back. His broken legs could no longer hold him.

He collapsed onto the pavement.

“Mom!”

His scream tore through the air.

Drops of rain started to fall, but none could extinguish the monstrous glow.

Then—

A pair of strong arms grabbed him and lifted him off the wreckage.

“Get him out of here! It’s gonna blow!”

The voice was urgent, but distant.

The boy thrashed, weakly clawing at the air.

“No! No!”

—!!!

A second explosion tore through the wreckage like a volcano erupting. He felt it all through his body—even through the layers of his clothes.

The world blurred into the light, fire, and then darkness.

And then—nothing.

“MOM! DAD—”

Haru snapped from his bed, his heart pounding feverishly and breathing labored. Sweat trickled down his temple, and as well tears welled up in his eyes.

His chest ached.

His fingers trembled as they clutched the blanket, knuckles turning white.

“...Another nightmare.”

He exhaled shakily and ran a hand down his face. His room—dimly lit by the faint sunlight against the windows—was still the same. No fire. No smoke. No screaming.

Just him.

Just the past refusing to let go.

Slowly, he lifted his shirt.

A map of scars stretched across his abdomen—faint, jagged lines tracing the memory of that fateful day.

Before he could dwell on them—

Creak.

“Ishida-san?”

The door swung open.

“Are you okay?” Ayase’s voice, gentle but urgent, filled the room.

She stood at the entrance, her figure bathed in daylight.

Her eyes held worry.

“You should knock first next time,” Haru muttered, quickly pulling his shirt down.

“But you were screaming, Ishida-san.” she countered softly, stepping inside. “I thought something was wrong.”

He looked away.

She wasn’t wrong.

But he didn’t know how to say that.

“…It’s nothing.”

She didn’t believe him.

“Nightmares?” she asked.

Haru hesitated. Then, with a dry smile, he nodded.

“Some memories just won't leave me. It's not like I'm afraid of it, but it's not something worth remembering.”

His breath was still uneven, his body still locked in the lingering grip of his past.

Ayase walked closer and, without a word, sat beside him.

Her rosy scent reached him instantly, a fragrance bringing warmth and relief.

“And I won't leave you, Ishida-san. Please allow me to carry that burden.”

“It's not your responsibility. You have yours too.”

“But…” she trailed off, pressing a hand to her chest. “I know what it feels like to be haunted by nightmares. I'll never let anything hurt you again if I can help it.”

She leaned toward his shoulder and gave him a reassuring smile.

Ayase didn’t pry. She didn’t force Haru to speak. Haru just found her delicate hand resting lightly over his.

Warm and steady.

“I will be at your ups and downs. I will be here to share moments with you with a smile. I will be the morning you'll wake up to and the night you'll rest in, Ishida-san.”

For a moment, Haru felt something—like static, like something waking up inside him.

His reflexes acted before his mind could process it.

A disguised cough came as Haru jerked his hand away.

“...Thanks but…”

Haru blinked, his expression unreadable.

“I’m not really used to receiving warmth from people. It evokes uncomfortable responses on my part,” he said, voice flat.

Ayase looked away with a faint blush. "Am I making you uncomfortable by being this close? Sorry if that was a bit too—"

"It's okay," Haru replied without hesitation.

He let a hand brush through his hair as if it would steady him. “...I just…don't understand this feeling. Because every time you're around, I feel strange emotions.”

Ayase looked at him—not confused, not offended. She’s just watching him, as if waiting for him to say more.

And in the quiet space between them, the past and present blurred together—two broken things, trying to figure out what came next.

“Ishida-san.” she called out.

Haru turned to her with a thoughtful glance.

“It's alright.” she muttered softly. “I just want you to know that you can always count on me. I know you're trying to always say to yourself that ‘I can do it, alone’, but it's not bad to ask for help. I am not forcing you, I'm just here to remind you that I'm always within your reach if you need me.”

Haru gulped.

And then—

“!!!”

He shifted to Ayase and wrapped her in his arms before he could think of it better.

Ayase’s eyes widened, a curt gasp coming from her mouth.

“I-ishi—”

“Don't say anything. Just let me stay here. I just want to embrace things within my reach.”

Her mouth opened, and closed…and opened again.

“...Okay.”

Ayase’s frame trembled slightly against him, her cheeks turning crimson.

Slowly, she returned the embrace. He felt Haru’s warmth so it's only fair to share hers.

To let him know her presence.

And maybe, she understood.

Haru's sudden advances weren't of bad intentions. It was desperation. He was looking for something to hold on to if he's on the verge of breaking apart.

It was a plea.

Maybe Haru had things he lost, things he can't touch and reach anymore.

But she's still here, next to him.

And Ayase promised to be there when he needs her.

They stayed like that for a moment and when Haru released her, his face was as red as hers.

“...That's just me saying thanks, nothing more.” he dryly replied.

Ayase turned to him, cheeks puffed and tears were about to fall from her eyes.

“...I-Ishida-san…”

“What?”

“Y-you hugged me…”

Haru gulped, averting away.

“...Yeah, I did. So what?”

Ayase lowered her hands and started to caress her tummy gently.

“I…I think I’m going to be pregnant…”

Haru choked, barely catching the blood dripping from his nose.

“WHAT?! IT DOESN’T WORK LIKE THAT!”

Ayase blinked in confusion.

“...It doesn’t?”

“It needs more than hugging, you idiot!”

Ayase just let out a confused squeak as she twirled the ends of her hair.

Haru cleared his throat and turned away.

“That’s right…I was planning to go to the mall today.”

Ayase tilted her head, “A mall? Like that big colorful buildings on the TV?”

“Yeah,” he responded. “I guess you hadn't been in one?”

Ayase nodded hesitantly.

“Much better.” Haru continued with a smile. “I just got my paycheck from Akio-san. Figured I should buy some stuff for the house. Wanna come?”

“Of course. If it's with you.” she accepts with her face lighting up.

No hesitation. No second thoughts.

“A simple ‘yes’ is fine. You don't have to make it sound cheesy.”

“Because I only wanted to be with you, Ishida-san.”

“Ugh, just stop and get ready.”

As Haru stood up to change, Ayase’s words lingered in his mind.

There was something behind them—something deeper than gratitude.

He sighed, brushing off the thought.

It was just a hug. Just a thank you.

He just wanted things to stay that way.