Chapter 6 — “You’re Mine, Right?”

By the second month of spring, the rumors had begun to bloom just like the wisteria petals outside.

Himari and Mizuki. The perfect class rep and the quiet transfer girl. Too close, people said — always walking home together, always whispering at lunch, always touching in ways that felt too tender, too private.

Some of their classmates smiled knowingly. Others avoided their eyes.

But neither of the girls seemed to care.

At least, that’s how it looked from the outside.

---

In truth, Himari had started noticing the smallest things.

The way Mizuki still smiled when her phone buzzed.

The way her fingers hesitated before opening certain messages.

She’d never asked before — she didn’t need to. Mizuki’s world seemed to revolve around her.

But one evening, as they sat together in Mizuki’s dorm room, Himari saw the screen light up. A message. A name she didn’t recognize.

“Rika.♡”

> It’s been a while. How are you? I miss talking to you.

Something small and poisonous bloomed quietly in Himari’s chest.

Mizuki glanced at the phone and smiled faintly. “Oh, that’s just a friend from my old school. I’ll text her later.”

A friend.

Himari smiled back. “Of course.”

But her eyes didn’t.

---

Later that night, Mizuki went to shower. The sound of running water filled the dorm. Himari sat on the edge of the bed, the phone still glowing faintly beside her.

She stared at it for a long time.

Then she picked it up.

The screen unlocked easily — Mizuki had told her the password weeks ago, laughing softly when she’d said, “I trust you.”

The contacts list scrolled endlessly — names, numbers, tiny fragments of a life before Himari. People who had seen her, spoken to her, touched her world before Himari had existed in it.

It felt wrong.

It felt unfair.

The sound of water kept running.

One by one, Himari pressed delete.

Each time, the contact vanished like it had never been there.

Rika.

Sae.

Karin.

Haruto.

Aya.

Gone.

By the time she finished, her pulse was trembling with quiet satisfaction.

Mizuki’s phone was now… clean.

Perfect.

Only messages from her.

She placed it neatly back on the table, just as the shower stopped.

---

When Mizuki came out, her hair damp and skin pale from the steam, she noticed immediately. The phone was in a slightly different place — subtle, but enough.

Her eyes flicked toward Himari, who sat cross-legged on the bed, smiling softly.

Mizuki picked up her phone, thumb hovering over the screen.

There were no messages. No names. Just emptiness.

She didn’t speak for a long time.

Finally, she looked up.

> “You deleted them, didn’t you?”

Himari’s voice was quiet. “Yes.”

Mizuki’s lips trembled, but her eyes didn’t. “You’re scared I’ll leave you, right?”

Himari rose, walked behind her, and wrapped her arms around Mizuki’s shoulders. Her voice was low, almost gentle.

> “No. I just want to make sure you don’t get lost.”

Mizuki’s breath hitched. “Lost?”

“In other people. In the past.”

Himari rested her chin against Mizuki’s wet hair. “You don’t need anyone else, do you? Just me.”

Her words weren’t questions. They were prayers. Or perhaps, commands.

Mizuki nodded slowly. “Just you,” she whispered.

But her eyes stared into the blank phone screen — a reflection of her own face, alone, surrounded by nothing.

---

Outside, the wisteria tree was shedding its petals in slow, steady waves. The courtyard looked as though it were snowing pink.

Inside, Mizuki’s phone lay on the desk — silent, emptied, obedient.

The two girls sat in the dim light of the dorm, their silhouettes tangled like vines.

Himari’s hand rested on Mizuki’s shoulder. Mizuki leaned against her chest, listening to the steady, fragile beat of a heart that was too calm for what it had just done.

There was no anger. No accusation. Only quiet understanding.

And in that silence, both of them began to rot — beautifully.

---

That night, Mizuki opened her sketchbook again. The pages were stained with graphite and faint smudges of blood.

She drew two figures beneath the wisteria tree — one smiling, one crying — their faces blending together.

Below the sketch, she wrote:

> “If she wants all of me, she can have it. Even if it means there’s nothing left.”

The petals outside drifted down against the dorm window, one after another, covering the glass completely until neither could see the moonlight anymore.