Chapter 3: 1,095 Days (3)

If you’d asked seventeen-year-old Ren how the war would end, he’d have given you a ridiculously simple answer. “The good guys will win!”

In the end, there were no good guys—nobody won.

“How’s your arm?”

Fujimori Yuka had a gentle voice—just what you’d expect from someone in her line of work. She sat behind a modest desk cluttered with files, a cardigan draped loosely around her frame, pale afternoon light glinted off her silver-framed glasses as she studied him.

He shifted in his chair, his blazer’s empty sleeve brushing against his side. “Does it look like I’m hurting?”

Yuka tilted her head, lips curling in a small, thoughtful smile. “That depends…”

“I’m fine.”

She didn’t believe him. He could see it in the way her pen hovered over her notes without writing.

“Is that so…? My notes tell a different story. Your professors say you’re dozing off in lectures. You refuse to join any clubs. You think you can keep going like this? Ren, is there anything you want to talk about? Anything at all?”

He tapped a dull rhythm against his knee. No point. You wouldn’t believe me. But she waited patiently. “It’s just… the pain’s been worse lately. Sometimes it flares up and I grit my teeth until it passes. It always does.”

He avoided her eyes, letting his gaze drift across the desk. A coffee mug with lipstick smudges along the rim, folders bulging with papers bearing the university’s gold seal.

A wall-mounted TV flickered silently. On screen, a police officer in a rumpled uniform dabbed sweat from his forehead, jaw clenching as microphones pushed toward his face. The red ticker beneath him crawled: SIXTH UNEXPLAINED DEATH—AUTHORITIES URGE CAUTION.

Yuka set her pen down. “I see… I can excuse you from the clubs, but the campus nurse needs to sign off on it tomorrow. All I ask is that you try not to sleep during your lectures.”

“Right.”

“That’s all the time we have for today. Come by tomorrow for the note, and use the hand sanitizer on your way out. Seems like half the place is catching something.”

He stood and bowed slightly. “Thank you.”

“Remember, I’m here for you.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Doc.”

The door clicked shut behind him. Sunlight ambushed him through the wide glass corridor, forcing him to shield his eyes with his forearm.

Beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows, Seiryo University’s main plaza unfurled: students in hoodies and sneakers darted between cherry trees, their voices rising and falling as they thrust club flyers at passing freshmen. A group huddled by the fountain, checking watches and glancing toward the station where the 3:15 train would arrive any minute.

Footsteps shuffled behind him. “Hey. Move it! Makabe-san! Over here!”

Two women bolted past, squealing. Near the stairs stood another woman in a dark blazer. When she turned, the afternoon sun caught her cheekbones in a way that made three passing men stop. The corner of her mouth lifted, as though privy to some private amusement.

Makabe Shion.

Students straightened their posture, professors lowered their heads as if she were royalty. She moved with the casual confidence of someone who had never questioned her place at the top. Her eyes snagged on him for a heartbeat. He dropped his chin and kept walking as the last bell chimed from the central tower.

Ren leaned against the iron railing halfway across the arched bridge that linked Seiryo’s island campus to Hanamizu’s mainland. He shoved his hand deeper into his woolen coat pocket while he watched the afternoon sun flicker off the university’s glass spires behind him.

The city fanned out in rows of skyscrapers. Salt from the harbor air had collected in fine white crystals along the bolts, and a briny breeze teased at the ends of his loose strands of hair.

“You’re ignoring me.”

“I’m not.”

Reina clicked her tongue and stepped up onto the same riveted plate, folding her arms so her sleeves crept past her wrists. The heels of her black flats tapped against the steel grating. “When someone answers ‘I’m not,’ and then shuts up, that also still counts as ignoring.”

“Conversation’s never been my strong suit.”

Reina’s lips curved into a brief, disapproving smile, but she didn’t argue. She edged closer, her coat brushing his sleeve.

A few paces behind them, beneath a diagonal support beam, Aokawa Lilly lingered—scarf wound twice around her neck, buttoned blazer hugging her frame. Only her blue eyes and the top of her nose peeked out, cataloguing their exchange in silence.

“Do you always walk this way?” Reina asked him.

“Sometimes. It’s quieter.”

“Fair point.” She hesitated, then nudged his elbow with a knuckle. “Actually… I was thinking of swinging by the market stalls before heading home. You wouldn’t mind?”

He blinked at her. The market was exactly on his route to Hayate’s place, a narrow detour through tents draped in striped tarps. Habit made his instinct flip to no, but her unease held him back.

“Fine. But I’m not hauling anything that needs both hands.”

“Don’t worry, I promise it won’t be heavy.”

Lilly’s muffled whisper drifted from behind them, words caught in her scarf. “We’re making sukiyaki tonight.”

Reina spun around, eyebrows arching so high they nearly brushed her hairline. “I thought we settled on curry?”

Lilly’s gaze flicked toward Ren for a heartbeat, then slid away toward the rippling water. “Changed my mind.”

Reina’s laugh was soft. “So curry’s demoted.”

He stared down at a cargo boat carving a white wake through the jade-green current and waited for Reina to press on, but her next words drifted back.

“Do you ever think about what happens when this is all over?”

He turned his head, watching her silhouette outlined against the sunset’s flare.

“Huh? This?”

“University. Classes. This weird halfway life we’re in. Our little bubble.”

“No, not really.”

She laughed again, warm and light. “Figures.” Her expression lit bright, unguarded for a moment. “You’re the type to say, ‘Why plan ahead?’ Aren’t you even a little scared of the future?”

“I haven’t thought that far ahead.”

“I wonder if I’ll still see you after all this, or if you’ll vanish like you were never here.”

“I’m not good at that stuff,” he admitted.

“Yeah,” she murmured. “I know.” She exhaled, and fell silent, studying the ripples chasing the boat’s wake.

Lilly stepped closer to the railing, arms folded. Reina reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her sister’s ear. “Well,” she said, “no matter what happens, you better remember us.”

“I couldn’t forget you even if I tried.”

She rolled her eyes and tugged at the sleeve of his coat. “God, listen to yourself.” Her fingers drummed once against the railing before she checked her watch. “Come on, the fish guy with the good tuna closes at five.”

His hand lingered on cold metal for a moment longer before he pushed himself away. Lilly unwound herself from her spot, trailing three steps behind.

━━━━━━━━━━𝑾𝑪𝑨━━━━━━━━━━

Afternoon light sliced through gauzy curtains, turning the white countertops golden. Ren fumbled with his shoes at the entrance, his hand clutching the market bag. Lilly perched on the couch edge, toes curled beneath her thighs, eyes following his movements without blinking.

“Look at you, remembering to take them off,” Reina called, rustling through groceries. “Good boy.”

“I’m not a dog.”

“Obviously not.” Reina’s hair swung as she glanced back. “Dogs sit when told. You just hover.”

He drifted to the window, his knuckles grazing the sill. “You barely got anything. You didn’t need my help.”

“No,” she acknowledged. “But you needed an excuse not to be by yourself.”

Their eyes caught in the reflection of the microwave door. She looked away first, closing the fridge with her hip. “Tea’s almost ready.”

Her words hung between question and statement, the kettle beginning to whistle. “I can stay,” he said, his stance easing a fraction.

She smiled.