Chapter 14 — “Reina’s Body Found”

The morning begins with silence — the kind that feels too heavy, too still.

Even the gulls circling above Saint Elora Academy seem to move slower that day, their cries muffled by fog rolling in from the sea.

The announcement comes during homeroom.

The teacher’s voice trembles.

> “We’ve received tragic news. Reina Minato from Class 2-C was found early this morning near the sea cliffs behind the academy. The authorities have ruled it a suicide.”

Gasps ripple through the classroom. Someone starts crying softly.

Mizuki doesn’t move.

She sits perfectly still, her hands clasped on her desk, nails digging into her palms until they leave crescent marks.

The teacher continues talking — something about counseling sessions, about how everyone should take care of one another. But the words blur into meaningless static.

All Mizuki can hear is the faint hum of the fluorescent lights.

All she can see is Himari’s reflection in the window — calm, beautiful, unreadable.

---

At lunch, rumors start to bloom like weeds between the cracks of silence.

> “They said she was close to Mizuki Sera.”

“Didn’t she talk to Himari the day before?”

“Maybe it was love trouble.”

Every whisper is a blade turned toward Mizuki’s chest.

She doesn’t eat.

She doesn’t blink.

The world feels like it’s shrinking, pressing in around her from all sides.

When Himari finally finds her behind the gym — the one place no one else goes — Mizuki is standing barefoot in the dirt, staring at the sky.

> “You didn’t come to class,” Himari says gently.

Mizuki’s eyes move to her, slow and glassy.

> “They said she jumped.”

> “It’s horrible.”

> “Did you know her?”

Himari’s smile is faint, practiced. “A little.”

> “Did you talk to her yesterday?”

A pause. A heartbeat.

> “No,” Himari lies.

---

That night, the sea roars louder than usual.

Mizuki can’t sleep. She lies awake in bed, the ceiling above her shifting with shadows from the window blinds.

She keeps thinking of Reina’s shoes — neatly placed by the edge of the cliff.

Why would she do that?

The image won’t leave her mind: pale ankles, skirt fluttering, the endless drop.

She sits up suddenly, breathing hard, and goes to the desk. The lamp flickers weakly as she opens her sketchbook.

On the blank page, she draws Reina — standing at the cliff, hair whipping in the wind. But as her pencil moves, something changes. The second figure appears beside her — a girl with long black hair, the breeze lifting the hem of her skirt.

Himari.

---

The next day, Mizuki walks to the announcement board where the memorial note hangs.

A picture of Reina smiling. Fresh flowers beneath. A paper crane pinned beside it.

Himari stands there too, her expression quiet and polite, the way people look at graves of strangers.

Mizuki’s throat feels dry. She wants to ask why, but she doesn’t know what she means.

Instead, she says, “You were the last person to see her, weren’t you?”

Himari turns, her eyes soft, unreadable.

> “Why would you think that?”

> “Because she looked at you the way I do.”

For a second, Himari’s mask slips — the faintest crack. Then it’s gone, replaced by a sad smile.

> “You’re tired, Mizuki.”

> “Maybe.”

---

That night, Mizuki dreams again.

She’s standing on the cliff. The sea below writhes like something alive. The air smells of salt and iron. Reina is there, her hair tangled in the wind, her eyes wide and empty.

Behind her, someone stands — a shadow with Himari’s smile.

The shadow reaches out and pushes Reina gently, lovingly, off the edge.

Mizuki wakes with a cry, sweat cold on her skin.

She looks toward the bed across the room — Himari’s sleeping form, peaceful, untouched by nightmares.

For a long time, Mizuki just watches her breathe.

Then she whispers, almost tenderly,

> “Even if you did it, I’d still love you.”

---

The next day, Mizuki sits alone by the wisteria tree where they once shared lunch. The petals are beginning to fall, purple and white against the wet earth.

She presses her palms into the soil and feels something sharp beneath — a piece of glass, maybe from a broken photo frame.

Her reflection stares back faintly from the surface: pale, trembling, her own eyes ringed with sleeplessness.

She closes her fingers around the shard until her palm bleeds.

> “Reina smiled like that too,” she murmurs. “Before she disappeared.”

---

That evening, as the bell rings for curfew, Himari walks her back to the dorms. The sunset turns the sea red.

> “You’re scaring people,” Himari says quietly.

> “Because I’m sad?”

> “Because you’re obsessed.”

Mizuki stops walking. The light from the streetlamp cuts their shadows in half.

> “You’re the one who taught me how to love.”

> “And now?”

> “Now I’m learning how to mourn.”

---

In her room, Mizuki sits by the window again, sketchbook on her lap.

On the first page, she draws the sea — dark, swallowing the sky.

On the next, a pair of shoes by the edge of a cliff.

Then, beneath them, she writes in neat cursive:

> “When she fell, the sea didn’t take her — it kept her.”

She looks at the words for a long time before whispering into the night:

> “And if you fall too, Himari… I’ll follow.”