Chapter 26 - Graduation - New Beginning

Spring. That awkward time when the weather can’t decide between sun, rain, or apocalyptic winds. Today, the sun had apparently decided to show off, shining down on Mishiro High like it owned the world.

I shouldn’t care about stuff like this anymore. Hats, speeches, flowers, smiling classmates—all of it was supposed to be meaningless fluff for people who hadn’t been dragged through years of chaos, blood, and occasional public humiliation.

And yet…

Even I couldn’t deny that there was something nice about it.

---

The morning started with chaos, as usual. Class 3-B was buzzing with the usual assortment of personalities: Sakura Inoue meticulously checking everyone’s uniform for creases, some idiot trying to glue his cap to the desk, and a group of seniors laughing at how easily they’d survived another year without me punching them.

I walked in, tie crooked, hair messy, trying to ignore the suspiciously cheerful energy. Everyone stared. Some of them whispered, and I could practically hear the mental note: Kazama-kun, finally grown up. Or maybe about to confess to Asuka-sensei. Either way, priceless.

I scowled at them mentally, shut up, idiots.

Then came the inevitable teasing.

> “Hey, Kazama! Don’t tell me you’re about to confess!”

“Yeah, finally grown up thanks to sensei, huh?”

I tried to play it off. I really did. But the corner of my mouth twitched. Maybe they weren’t completely wrong.

---

I leaned against my desk and closed my eyes for a second. The last three years… wow. What a mess.

Festival chaos: me almost drowning in goldfish bags while Yume screamed at me to save her fish.

Rainy afternoons: Asuka giving me her umbrella, forcing me to walk in a drizzle I’d normally call “war.”

Sleepovers where I sat awkwardly on her couch while Yume snored somewhere in between, her little hand somehow managing to touch my arm.

And all those fights—stupid, meaningless, and yet shaping me. Each punch thrown, each wound received, every angry thought… and she was there, quietly watching, sometimes laughing, sometimes scolding, sometimes letting me sit in silence while I unraveled myself.

The thought made my chest tighten. I never admitted it out loud, of course. Couldn’t. Too messy. Too complicated. But I wasn’t the same Reiji Kazama who’d been dragged into the alley three years ago, bloody and alone.

--

The auditorium smelled like polish and despair mixed with hope—whatever that meant. Seniors filed in, teachers straightened their ties, and the principal droned on about “the bright future awaiting our graduates.”

Asuka stood at the podium, flawless as always. Hair tied neatly, uniform crisp, smile gentle. Somehow, she carried an aura of authority and warmth at the same time—a dangerous combination for anyone with half a heart.

She began speaking. Words that were simple, heartfelt, and packed with subtle meaning.

> “Today marks not just the end of your high school days, but the beginning of everything that comes after. You’ll face challenges, frustrations, and moments that make you question who you are. But you’ll also encounter kindness, laughter, and bonds that will stay with you forever.”

My ears twitched. She glanced at the front row subtly, and my stomach lurched. That look—the one reserved for me during our quiet moments in the past—was there. My mouth went dry.

> “Some of you have grown in ways you didn’t think possible. Some have learned from mistakes, others from friends, and sometimes… from people who quietly believed in you without making a fuss.”

I blinked. That had to be about me. She didn’t say my name, but I didn’t need it. My ears burned, and I could feel my classmates noticing. Shit.

---

After the ceremony, the usual chaos resumed. Students ran around throwing hats, taking pictures, and pretending to cry at the “end of an era.”

Some of the girls nudged each other, whispering loudly enough for me to hear:

> “Kazama looks so flustered!”

“I think he’s going to propose to sensei!”

I swore under my breath. I’m not flustered! And I’m certainly not proposing!

Then Yume appeared, skipping over like she owned the world. “Punch-kun! Pick me up!”

I bent down and lifted her, feeling her tiny arms wrap around my neck. My back hurt, but I didn’t care. She giggled, burying her face in my shoulder, completely oblivious to the fact that the entire senior class was staring and whispering.

Asuka’s soft laughter drifted from nearby. She was watching us, and I could see the pride and affection in her eyes. That made my chest tighten further, the absurdity of the situation almost funny.

---

I hated a lot of things in life. Fights, pain, bullies, meaningless chaos—but right now, I didn’t hate anything. Not Yume’s clingy energy. Not Asuka’s perfect timing with her smile. Not even the teasing classmates.

I owed all of this—my growth, my perspective, my ability to care without fear—to her and Yume.

Ironic, really. Three years ago, I was the guy who swore he hated the world. Now… I realized I could love something. And it terrified me how much I did.

---

Finally, the moment everyone had been waiting for. Hats in the air. Screams, laughter, and the usual chaos ensued. I barely had time to think as the cap soared above, reflecting sunlight in dizzying patterns.

Yume, of course, tried to jump up and grab mine, giggling madly. I caught her in a playful bear hug. She squealed, squirmed, then threw herself onto me, hugging my waist like she was claiming victory in some imaginary battle.

Asuka smiled. Soft, proud, warm. Watching us with a quiet expression that almost made me forget how loud the world was.

And in that moment, under a sky filled with flying hats, I realized:

I was ready.

Ready to step into the adult world. Ready to carry on with my life, not alone, not angry, not bitter. Ready with them.

With Asuka. With Yume.

And somehow, maybe, I didn’t hate the world so much anymore.

---

The last three years had been hellish, chaotic, funny, and heartbreaking. But they led to this—a sunny spring day, the laughter of a child, the quiet pride of someone I cared about more than I could ever admit.

I didn’t know what tomorrow held. Corporate jobs, taxes, bills, the whole nightmare adult package. But I knew one thing.

No matter what came, I wasn’t walking into it alone.

And for once, that was enough.