Chapter 28: “A Number She Shouldn’t Have”

The last bell of the day rang, a loud metallic clang echoing through the emptying hallways of Mishima Prefectural High. Students spilled out of classrooms, some laughing, some dragging feet, some checking phones with that distracted half-smile that comes from surviving another day.

Rurika Hanabusa lingered near the lockers, pretending to look for something that wasn’t there. Her chest tightened every time her gaze flicked toward the stairwell, where Kei Nishima stood talking with a teacher about some minor school business. He looked calm, approachable, the kind of man whose presence seemed to make everyone’s pulse slow just a little. The same way he had made Rurika’s pulse jump weeks ago, the day he had saved her.

Her fingers tightened on the strap of her bag. Every detail of that day replayed in her mind like a film she couldn’t erase. The way his hand had steadied her wrist. The warm but firm pressure. The slight tilt of his head as he made sure she didn’t fall. Even now, she could feel the memory crawling along her skin like cold fire.

She swallowed and straightened her posture. Time to act.

Stepping into his path, she forced her voice to be casual, light.

“Nishima-san,” she said, her tone slightly clipped, yet polite.

Kei turned slowly, eyes soft and cautious, as if sensing the weight behind her words.

“Yes? Can I help you?”

Rurika forced a smile. “I… I need help choosing a birthday present for Touko.”

Kei blinked, his face lighting with recognition. “Oh? For Touko-chan? Sure, I can help. What’s the occasion exactly?”

Rurika’s stomach twisted. She forced herself to keep looking at him, though her hands were shaking slightly. Every word he spoke seemed to pull her closer, and yet something inside her whispered that she shouldn’t fall any deeper. She swallowed it down. She needed this.

“I… I’m not sure what she would like,” she said. Her voice was lower than she intended. Almost a whisper, though Kei could still hear her.

“Let’s see,” he said kindly, fishing his phone from his pocket. “You can text me, or I can send you some suggestions.”

Her heart caught. His hand—warm, careful, casual—touched the phone in the same motion she remembered from the day he had saved her. That same certainty. That same calm that made the world around him shrink to only her.

Before she could rethink it, before her hesitation could stop her, Kei had typed a few words and handed his phone over. “Here. My number. You can message me about Touko-chan’s birthday anytime.”

Rurika’s fingers closed over the phone. Her palms were hot. Her breath came shallow. She clutched it to her chest as if holding it would somehow make him hers.

“Thank you… Nishima-san,” she said, voice trembling despite herself. She dared to glance at him, just once. His eyes, gentle and steady, met hers.

Touko was watching.

From the end of the hallway, in the shadows between the lockers, Touko leaned against the cool metal. She didn’t move a muscle. She didn’t frown. She didn’t blink faster. Her face was blank, serene, almost doll-like. But every instinct was on alert. Her sharp gaze followed Kei’s every movement, the tilt of his head, the way his thumb hovered over the screen, the soft curve of his lips as he smiled at Rurika.

Touko’s hand slid into her bag without thinking, her diary already open. She scribbled quickly, carefully, making sure every stroke of ink recorded the moment with precision.

Rurika Hanabusa — 4:12 PM — took Papa’s number.

It was simple. Precise. Just a line in her notebook. But the ink seemed to thrum on the page, a heartbeat she could feel in her chest. The number itself didn’t matter. The act mattered. The knowledge that someone had dared to touch the connection between her and Kei. The knowledge that someone else could exist in that space.

Rurika, oblivious, scrolled through her phone, biting her lower lip. She didn’t notice the way Touko’s shadow seemed to stretch across the hallway, invisible yet suffocating. She didn’t notice the small tremor in Touko’s hands as she closed her diary after finishing the note.

Kei, still polite, turned back to Rurika with a soft smile.

“If you have any questions or need suggestions, feel free to text me anytime.”

Rurika nodded quickly, cheeks warm, heart thundering in her chest. “Yes… thank you. I’ll… I’ll do that.”

Touko’s eyes never left the scene, but the smile on her lips didn’t move. It was the kind of smile that promised calm, but hid a storm beneath. Her mind was already calculating, noting, planning. She could feel the threads of the world rearranging, and she would be at the center of them.

When Rurika finally turned and walked away, Kei waved politely, still unaware of the weight of the moment.

Touko didn’t move. She watched until Rurika disappeared down the stairwell, every muscle tight.

She closed her diary with a soft snap. The page was marked. The knowledge secured. No one else needed to see it. Not yet.

She stepped forward from the shadow and walked beside Kei as he headed out of the school. Her hand brushed against his sleeve lightly.

“Papa,” she murmured, voice low, soft, almost a whisper meant only for him, “I saw everything.”

Kei glanced down at her. “Saw what, Touko-chan?”

Touko’s lips curved in the faintest smile. “I just… remembered it. That’s all.”

Kei chuckled lightly. “Alright… as long as you’re safe.”

Touko’s eyes flicked toward the stairwell one last time. She didn’t speak, but the way she held his sleeve, the subtle pressure of her grip, carried a message she wouldn’t say aloud.

Don’t forget this, Papa. Don’t ever forget it.

The afternoon air pressed against them as they walked together. Touko’s mind churned quietly, meticulously. Every detail, every movement, every heartbeat of the scene she had observed was filed away, catalogued for the day it might matter.

And she smiled.

Not because she was happy.

Because she was aware.

Because she was watching.

Because she could.

And that, she knew, was enough.