Chapter 132: The Morning After (in Enemy Territory)

I do not know how long I sit there, frozen, with Aiwa asleep on my shoulder. Time seems to warp and stretch. My arm goes numb. My neck starts to cramp. But I do not move. Partly because I do not want to wake her, she looks so peaceful, so vulnerable without her LUNA armor or her shy Aiwa defenses. And partly because I am utterly terrified of the consequences of any action I might take. Waking her means an incredibly awkward conversation and a frantic rush for the last train. Letting her sleep means… what? Staying here? All night? The thought sends a fresh wave of panic through me.

Eventually, exhaustion wins. My own adrenaline wears off, leaving behind the bone-deep weariness of weeks of stress. My eyelids get heavy. The rhythmic sound of Aiwa's soft breathing is surprisingly soothing. Against all odds, against all common sense, I drift off to sleep, sitting upright at the table, my head eventually slumping forward until my forehead is resting gently against the top of Aiwa's purple hair.

I wake up slowly, reluctantly, to the sound of birds chirping and the feeling of warm sunlight on my face. My first thought is confusion. Birds? Sunlight? My room does not face east. My second thought is panic. My neck is stiff. My arm is completely numb. And there is a distinct weight against my side.

I crack open an eye. Aiwa is still asleep, curled up against me now, her head resting not on my shoulder, but somehow tucked into the crook of my neck. Her breathing is soft and even. She looks impossibly young, incredibly peaceful.

My third thought is: I am so, so dead.

I slept here. All night. With Aiwa. Rina is going to kill me. Not metaphorically. Literally. I envision headlines: "Local High School Student Found Dismembered; Jealous Sister Claims 'He Had It Coming'."

I need to escape. Now. Before Rina activates the GPS tracker in my fillings.

Moving with the infinite slowness and precision of a bomb disposal expert trying to disarm a kitten strapped to a nuclear warhead, I begin the painstaking process of extricating myself without waking Aiwa. It takes ten minutes. Ten agonizing, sweat-inducing minutes. But finally, I am free. I stand up, shaking the pins and needles out of my arm, my heart pounding a frantic rhythm.

Aiwa stirs slightly on the sofa where I somehow managed to deposit her, murmuring something about "prismatic fibers" in her sleep. She is still out cold.

Okay. Escape plan: Phase One complete. Phase Two: Leave no trace.

I quickly gather my things. I look around the small apartment. It looks… normal. Except for the cosplay goddess asleep on the sofa. I grab a spare blanket from one of the boxes and gently drape it over her. It feels like the least I can do before abandoning her to face the morning alone.

Then I see it. On the table, next to our scattered literature notes, is her phone. And next to her phone… is the photograph. The picture of us as kids. She must have brought it with her, intending to show it to me, to force the confession.

My hand hovers over the photo. Should I take it? Hide it? Confess my sins in a hastily scribbled note?

No. Too risky. I just leave it there. A silent testament to the conversation that never happened, the truth that still hangs unspoken between us.

With one last, conflicted look at the sleeping Aiwa, I slip out of the apartment, closing the door as quietly as possible behind me. I practically sprint to the train station, my mind racing. How am I going to explain this? What lie can possibly cover an entire night's absence?

As I ride the train back towards my own neighborhood, watching the city wake up, a terrifying thought occurs to me. Rina did not call me last night after I ignored her first call. She did not text. There were no frantic messages from Kenji or Haruka.

Why?

The lack of pursuit is more unnerving than the pursuit itself. It means they either bought my flimsy excuse, or… they know exactly where I was. And they are waiting.

My blood runs cold. I arrive home, bracing myself for the inevitable storm. But the apartment is quiet. Rina's door is closed. No angry notes. No passive-aggressive breakfast displays. Just… silence.

It is the most terrifying silence I have ever experienced. The waiting game has begun. And I have a terrible feeling I am about to lose. Badly.