Chapter Text
-To the Story-
The air was thick and sweet with the scent of late cherry blossoms, a perfect backdrop to a moment you had rehearsed a thousand times.
"Gakushu-kun..." Your heart beat so loud it was a frantic, muffled drum against your own ribs. You clenched your fists inside your uniform pockets, preparing the final, decisive exhale.
"Yeah?" Asano turned, his lavender eyes clear and attentive, waiting for you to continue.
"I—"
Then, cold shock slammed down.
A bucket of icy water poured over you, instantly soaking through your uniform, plastering your hair to your skull. Your thoughts went blank, the carefully constructed confession dissolving into freezing numbness. Your hands clawed at your soaked skirt as your body movement wavered.
A high-pitched ringing filled your ears, drowning out everything else. Your eyes shook, fixed on the wet asphalt, the only sound was the sickening splash of the water.
But then you heard it. Laughter. A burst of mocking, childish laughter from the second-floor window above.
"Serves her right,"
You could barely hear the muttering
Of course. It was him. Goddamn it.
It was as if time slowed down, stretching the humiliation to an agonizing length. You couldn't dare lift your head to look at Asano, terrified of the pity or, worse, the amusement that might be in his perfect face.
Your lips pursed, fighting the tremble. You spun on your heel and stormed off, the squelch of your shoes the only accompaniment to your burning shame. You left a very confused Gakushu standing there, his hand slightly raised—as if he’d been reaching out for you.
A pair of mercury eyes watched your retreating form from the same window.
Yuji, your brother, turned back to his co-conspirator and gave him a lazy smirk. "Thanks for the idea, Akabane."
Karma merely leaned against the window frame, his gaze following the miserable path you took. He didn't hate you. He just had a different method for getting your attention.
And yet, it still didn’t work.
-🜲-
You glanced up from your phone to look out of the tinted car window. The glass acted like a high-end filter, turning the afternoon cityscape into a cinematic blur of washed-out gold and muted chrome. High-rise towers sailed past, reflecting the indifferent sky.
Glancing to the opposite side of the limousine was your older brother, Yuji. He was draped across the plush leather seat, as though posing for a magazine, one hand fiddling with a luxury watch, the other scrolling through a dating app. It wasn't uncommon that your parents forced these "sibling bonding" outings upon you both, but it's not like either of you enjoyed them very much. These outings were merely part of maintaining the family image of effortless perfection.
"God, this is boring," Yuji announced, not looking at you. "Could they have picked a place further away? Who even shops on this side of the city?"
"The people who pay your tuition, I suppose," you muttered, tapping a message on your phone before locking the screen.
Yuji finally lifted his head, a practiced, saccharine smile aimed at you. "Relax, Y/N. Still mad for having to cancel your meeting plans to hangout with your big brother?"
You met his gaze evenly. "It’s not like you’ll stay with me anyway. I see your afternoon is already planned out—which one is the target today, the blonde or the brunette?"
He chuckled, unbothered, and tucked his phone away. "Why pick one when you can entertain both?"
You frowned, “You’re disgusting.”
The car finally pulled up to the high-end shopping center. The chauffeur opened the door, and the controlled environment of the limo was instantly replaced by the chaotic buzz of a Saturday crowd.
You were about to step out of the car when your brother pushed past you and got out first.
Asshole.
You rub your temples with annoyance, sighing as you mutter words you’d never say in public. He smiled smugly down at you as he held out his hand, “Aw, c’mon sis, I was just kidding~”
You got up yourself, hitting his shoulder with your own as you walked past him. You decided to ignore him and get some needed shopping done—it was getting colder, might as well get a few new outfits to add to your wardrobe. You trashed the set you wore that night.
You glanced over your shoulder to look at your brother—who was indeed talking to both the blonde and brunette girls who were fawning over him like dogs in heat. Your face crumpled in disgust as you scoffed. That is who everyone calls the “Golden child” of the L/N family name?
What a manwhore.
Before you could turn your head back your face rammed into someone's chest. You flinched, your hand flying up your forehead, eyes opening as you tilted your head up in annoyance.
Your eyes widened slightly. “Gakushu—“
He blinked as he held a plastic coffee cup from a nearby cafe. But it was half full—and apparently the other half was all over his shirt. He didn’t look the slightest bothered, but you saw a flicker of annoyance in his eyes before he saw it was you. He sighed softly before looking down at you, “Are you alright, Y/N-san?”
You didn’t respond, but instead grabbed his wrist and dragged him toward the nearby cafe, hastily grabbing napkins and trying to get the coffee out as much as possible.
His eyes softened before he grabbed your wrist, “Y/N-san, it’s fine.”
You paused, your hand mid-blot, and finally met his gaze. "No, it's not fine," you insisted, pulling your wrist free and dabbing at the fabric again. "This is a brand new shirt, isn't it? You know how annoying that is to get out." You were talking more to yourself than to him, the annoyance of the car ride, Yuji, and now this accident all converging. "I'm so sorry, Gakushu-kun. I wasn't looking. My brother—"
You stopped yourself, knowing a rant about Yuji was unfair to subject him to. You threw the now-soaked napkins into a nearby trash bin, feeling a wave of guilt. Asano took the opportunity to brush off the remaining dampness.
He offered a small, knowing smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.
"Yuji is always a spectacle, I'll grant you that. But truly, Y/N-san, the stain is on me, not you." He held up his phone in one hand and the plastic cup in the other as evidence. "And this is a cheap, disposable shirt. Now, please, stop trying to salvage it before you make it worse."
His polite, direct refusal finally made you back off. You sighed, running a hand through your hair. "Right. Well, let me buy you a new coffee then, at least. And maybe a new shirt."
He considered the offer, his eyes glancing briefly toward the café entrance, then back to the chaos of the Saturday crowd. "I already have the caffeine I need—and the new shirt isn't necessary. But," he paused, his gaze settling on you with an unexpected warmth, "I was about to start wandering around different stores, care to join me?”
You immediately accepted the offer. An hour of quiet, intelligent conversation with Asano sounded infinitely better than dealing with the drama Yuji would cause.
You straightened your clothes, feeling a flow of relief. "Lead the way, Gakushu. And if Yuji tries to interrupt, feel free to use my shoulder as a shield."
Gakushu let out a rare, genuine-sounding soft laugh. "A tempting offer, Y/N-san." He adjusted his cup and started walking, giving you a small head start to fall into step beside him.
-🜲-
You and Asano were deep in the knitwear section when you finally pulled out a thick, cream-colored turtleneck.
"This is it," you declared, holding it up, pleased with your choice.
Asano nodded in agreement. "Looks good."
As you turned to head toward the fitting rooms, your eyes automatically scanned the crowded area. That's when you caught a flash of familiar, red hair standing near the display of scarves, less than twenty feet away.
It was Karma.
Your breath hitched, the comfortable warmth of the sweater suddenly feeling heavy in your hands. You hadn't seen him since you confronted him at the river.
He was leaning against a display case with his usual air of arrogance, one hand in his pocket. He was listening to the person beside him, whom you had to squint to recognize.
Okuda, known for her quiet intellect and scientific obsession, was holding up a brightly patterned scarf and talking to Karma with an earnest, focused intensity, completely oblivious to the chaos of the mall. Karma, surprisingly, was actually looking at her, his lips curved in a subtle, almost gentle smirk, his attention fully centered on her.
You felt a sudden, sharp prickle of—you weren't sure what—disappointment? Annoyance? And why was he looking at Okuda like that?
You froze mid-step, the cream sweater clutched in your hands.
Asano, sensing the abrupt pause, followed your gaze.
"Well, well," Asano murmured, his voice low enough only for you to hear, dry amusement lacing his tone. "He appears to be on a date."
You quickly averted your gaze, pretending to examine the sweater, but your eyes kept flickering back. "It's not a date," you insisted, the words thin and sharp. "They're just classmates."
You weren’t sure why you were trying to assure yourself.
Karma reached out, took the patterned scarf from Okuda, and draped it gently around her neck, leaning in slightly to adjust the folds. He said something that made Okuda look up at him, a faint blush dusting her cheeks. He then ruffled her hair slightly before handing her a shopping bag.
The contrast between this easy, soft interaction and the intensity of your last true interaction with him made your stomach clench. He looked so innocent here, capable of being charming, capable of being kind.
You felt a surge of heat, a confusing mix of resentment and something similar to betrayal. He can be this normal, this easy, with her?
Your heart clenched.
"He's probably just bored," you muttered again, the explanation sounding weak.
Asano simply raised an eyebrow as you quickly took a step toward the check-out, pulling him along. "Let's go. I am not giving him the satisfaction of seeing me here."
You quickly paid for the sweater, your movements efficient and hurried. Asano stood silently beside you, accepting the bag and handing it back with a look that held light concern.
"He... he has no right," you muttered under your breath, not even sure what he had no right to do—to be happy, to be casual, to move on from a moment that still haunted your sleepless nights.
"No right to what?" Asano asked, genuinely confused.
Your head snapped up, pausing. You remembered the alley, the fear, and his unexpected kindness. Karma knows exactly what he’s doing to you.
But you couldn’t bring yourself to tell Asano all of that.
As Asano continued to speak, you felt a sudden, unavoidable urge. You had to look again. You moved slightly away from Asano, pretending to examine a pair of gloves, your eyes darting back toward the area where you had last seen Karma.
He wasn't there, but as you turned your head toward the main entrance, you saw them. Karma and Okuda were standing near the revolving door, Okuda laughing quietly at something Karma said, a slight, sweet sound.
Then, Karma looked up.
His mercury eyes swept across the store floor, and for a heart-stopping fraction of a second, they locked directly onto yours.
The distance was too great for you to read his expression, but the brief eye contact sent a jolt of panic through your veins. There was no clear expression on his face.
Was he surprised?
Before you could decipher it, before you could look away or move, Karma's lips curved upward into that familiar, infuriatingly casual half-smirk. He gave you a nearly dismissive tilt of his head—a silent acknowledgement.
Then, he turned fully away, letting Okuda lead him out the door and into the street crowd, disappearing without a second glance.
The relief that he was gone was immediately covered by a wave of hot fury. He was still treating you like a nuisance, an image he had to ignore to get back to "normal."
You spun back around, bumping slightly into Asano.
"I'm done," you said, your voice tight. "I've got the sweater. I need to leave."
Gakushu looked at you, reading the tension in your jaw and the fire in your eyes. He didn't ask what had happened; he didn't need to.
He simply put his hand gently on your shoulder, a gesture of platonic support.
-End of Chapter-