Chapter 25: — “Watchdogs”

The bell rang, echoing through the emptying classroom.

Mika leaned back in her chair, trying to let out a long breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

Sakura and Miyuki were already packed up, moving with purpose. They didn’t speak much, but Mika felt their eyes on her, watchful, alert, as if they were anticipating every possible danger.

She tried to stretch, pretending she didn’t notice. Her backpack felt heavy on her shoulders, but not as heavy as the unease pressing in on her chest.

“Ready, Mika?” Miyuki’s voice was soft, almost teasing, but there was a tension in it that made her pause.

Mika forced a smile. “Yeah… ready.”

Sakura fell into step on her left, Miyuki on her right. Mika felt flanked, hemmed in by their vigilance.

It was comforting and suffocating all at once.

The hallways were still noisy with students packing up, laughing, calling to friends, but Mika’s mind was elsewhere.

Ever since the death game, every sound, every glance, every sudden movement felt amplified.

She could almost see the shadow of the warehouse, hear the creak of the metal door, the scraping of ropes against skin.

Her fingers tightened on the straps of her bag.

“Do you guys ever, you know…” she started, hesitating. “…get tired of watching me?”

Miyuki tilted her head, smiling faintly. “We’re not just watching. We’re protecting.”

Mika blinked. The word carried weight. Protection wasn’t just casual friendship anymore. Not after what happened.

“I know,” Mika said quietly. “I just…” She shook her head, unsure what she wanted to say.

Sakura remained silent, her eyes scanning the crowds of students, catching glimpses of movement Mika didn’t even notice.

They reached the vending machine at the end of the hall. Mika stepped forward, reaching for a bottle of water.

“We’ll come with you,” Sakura said instantly, falling into step beside her.

Mika laughed softly, a short, nervous sound. “Overprotective much?”

Miyuki shrugged, leaning slightly toward her. “Better safe than sorry.”

Mika’s fingers brushed against the cool metal of the vending machine. She forced herself to laugh again.

“Yeah, yeah. You’re like… bodyguards now. Should I start calling you ‘Team Mika’?”

Miyuki smiled faintly, but her eyes were serious. “You don’t joke about danger, Mika. Not anymore.”

The words made Mika pause. A shiver ran down her spine, and she realized she wasn’t entirely sure they were joking.

She chose to ignore it. For now.

They bought their drinks and walked back to the courtyard. The afternoon sun was warm, and a light breeze blew through the school grounds.

Even so, Mika felt a constant prickling at the back of her neck.

During PE, the tension didn’t ease.

Miyuki volunteered to be her partner immediately, leaving no room for anyone else to approach.

“You can’t just leave me alone?” Mika teased, though the edge in her voice betrayed the slight relief she felt.

“Not if we don’t want anything happening,” Miyuki replied. She was careful, precise, shadowing Mika’s movements like a reflection.

Sakura hovered nearby, hands on her hips, scanning the court.

Every pass, every bounce, every shot Mika took was under Miyuki’s watchful eye.

Mika tried to focus on the game, but her heart was elsewhere.

Her thoughts kept drifting to the warehouse, to Riku, to the ropes, to the masked figure.

She couldn’t stop herself from glancing toward the boys’ side, catching Riku and Kenji as they played through their own exercises.

Kenji was unusually insistent, standing beside Riku at every turn. He whispered something under his breath, and Riku’s expression flickered with irritation.

“You don’t have to stick to me like glue,” Riku muttered.

“I know,” Kenji said, smirking. “But I’d rather not take chances.”

Riku grunted. “You know the seating can’t be changed without the teacher.”

“And I know you usually sit near Mika,” Kenji countered lightly, not missing a beat.

Mika’s stomach twisted. She tried to ignore them, but the tension was palpable even across the gym.

Back on her side, Miyuki intercepted every pass aimed near Mika. Every time a classmate tried to interact, she gently but firmly steered them away.

Sakura’s eyes scanned constantly, never settling on one spot for long.

By the end of PE, Mika was exhausted.

Not from exercise. From vigilance. From the constant sense that at any moment, something could go wrong.

After the final bell, the classroom emptied.

Mika packed her bag slowly, letting the tension in her shoulders ease just slightly.

Kenji approached Riku, lowering his voice.

“I’ll walk you partway home. Just in case,” he said.

Riku hesitated, then nodded. “Fine.”

Mika noticed the subtle shift in her chest. Not relief exactly, but… a sense of being watched, of being considered.

She didn’t have to explain it. Not to anyone. Not yet.

Outside, the sun was starting to dip lower, painting the courtyard in shades of gold and amber.

Sakura and Miyuki flanked her again, silent but attentive.

They didn’t say much. Words weren’t necessary.

Mika sipped her water, letting the cool liquid ease her nerves.

“Do you ever get tired of this?” she asked quietly, nodding toward them, toward the constant vigilance.

Sakura glanced at her, expression softening for a moment. “We don’t get tired of you.”

Miyuki added, “Not when it matters.”

The words were simple, but they carried a weight Mika couldn’t ignore.

She tried to smile. Really smile this time.

“Thanks,” she whispered. “Really.”

They walked down the familiar paths together, sunlight casting long shadows on the ground.

Mika’s mind wandered, imagining the warehouse again, the ropes, the fear, the dark.

She shook her head, trying to push it away.

They reached the school gate. The street outside was busy with students heading home.

Mika’s thoughts drifted to Riku. Was he really safe? Did Kenji’s presence mean anything?

She didn’t ask. Not yet.

Instead, she stayed with Sakura and Miyuki, letting herself feel… something close to normal, if only for a moment.

The world wasn’t calm yet. It wouldn’t be.

But at least, for now, she wasn’t facing it alone.