The classroom was noisy. Lunch had just started. Chairs scraped against the floor. Bags unzipped. Voices rose in a chorus of gossip and hunger.
Kaito sat at his desk. He kept his left hand in his pocket. The bandage beneath the sleeve itched. The burn from Akira's blade was healing fast. Too fast. Human skin did not heal that fast.
Ryota pulled a chair backward. He sat facing Kaito. He straddled the chair. His arms rested on the backrest. He looked serious. Too serious.
Ryota said, I have compiled a list.
Kaito looked at him. He said, List.
Ryota said, Theories. About you. About why you look like you haven't slept since 2021.
Kaito opened his bento. He picked up his chopsticks. He said, Eat.
Ryota said, Distraction tactic. Noted. But I am persistent. Theory one. Secret job.
Kaito ate a piece of tamago. He chewed. He swallowed.
Ryota said, You leave early. You come home late. You have money sometimes. Not lots. But enough. Are you a bartender. A bouncer. A spy.
