The rain returned overnight with a vengeance, drumming steadily on rooftops and turning the sidewalks leading to Seika High School into slick, reflective surfaces that mirrored the heavy gray sky. Water streamed down the concrete walls of the three-story building, pooling in shallow dips along the paths and turning the sand-covered sports field into a muddy expanse. Inside the school corridors, the air felt damp and thick, carrying the faint scent of wet uniforms and floor polish. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting a flat glow that made the hallways seem longer and quieter than usual. Students moved with subdued energy, voices lower, as if the news of Tsubaki's death had already spread through the building like a slow, cold fog.
Sorine walked into Class 2-C with Mimo's hand clasped tightly in hers. Her eyes were red-rimmed from crying most of the night, and she kept glancing at the empty desk in the second row near the window—the one where Tsubaki used to sit, always ready with a laugh or a teasing comment. The chair was pushed in neatly, but the space felt glaringly wrong, too still and hollow. Sorine's shoulders trembled slightly as she took her seat, genuine sadness pressing down on her like the weight of wet clothes. She had lost a friend who brought lightness to their group, the one who always noticed when someone looked tired and tried to cheer them up. The ache was simple and raw, with no room yet for suspicion or complicated theories—just pure, heavy grief that made her cling a little tighter to Mimo's warm hand.
Vey entered shortly after, hood pulled halfway up over their messy short hair, movements sharper and more tense than usual. They sat near the window, staring out at the rain-streaked glass where droplets raced each other downward. Rage simmered quietly beneath their calm exterior, directed squarely at Ren Fushiwara. The memory of Tsubaki's last text about spending the day with him, combined with his calm warnings about the killings and the strange way he had watched from the hallway after Vey's experience in the old science lab, felt too connected to ignore. Vey's mind kept circling back to that afternoon—the way the room had changed so smoothly into something warm and inviting, trying to fill the careful distance they always kept between themselves and others. The thought made their jaw tighten with quiet anger.
Kairo arrived last among the group, his neat short hair slightly damp from the short walk in the rain. He looked exhausted, dark shadows under his eyes. The death of Tsubaki had hit him hard in a deep, psychological way. He kept replaying her easy laughter, the way she used to elbow him during conversations with that playful grin, and the silly crush she had confessed so openly on their walk home days earlier. The loss left a raw, twisting emptiness inside him that mixed painfully with his hidden, aching feelings for Mimo. He sat down without his usual analytical spark, shoulders slumped as if carrying an invisible weight that made even breathing feel heavier.
---
ARen Fushiwara stood at the front of the class, neatly dressed in a dark shirt and trousers, his face composed and calm as always. He addressed the room in his steady, even voice. "Some of you may have heard the sad news about Tsubaki. Her passing is a terrible loss for all of us. The school will hold a quiet memorial later this week. For now, let's try to continue with our lessons on absence and the spaces people leave behind when they go." His words felt measured, almost too precise, lingering in the air like the dampness outside. He glanced briefly at the empty desk but offered no further details, simply moving on to the day's material as if the hollow in the room could be filled with literature alone.
During the morning break, the four remaining friends gathered in a quiet corner of the hallway near the stairs, away from the main flow of students. The rain continued its constant drum against the windows, creating a steady hiss that filled the silences between their words. Sorine leaned against Mimo, fresh tears slipping down her cheeks as genuine sadness overwhelmed her again. "I can't believe she's really gone," she whispered, voice thick and unsteady. "She was always the one making us laugh, even on rainy days. Now the group feels… smaller. emptier."
Mimo held her gently, one arm around Sorine's shoulders, rubbing small, soothing circles on her back. Her own face looked soft and supportive on the surface, offering quiet words of comfort, but there were subtle cracks visible only in fleeting moments—her eyes drifting toward the rain-streaked windows with a distant, heavy expression. The psychological damage from Tsubaki's death pressed on her deeply, the memory of holding her friend's torn body still fresh and raw, though she kept it carefully hidden behind her gentle facade.
Vey spoke up, their voice low but edged with barely contained rage. "I still think Ren is involved somehow. Tsubaki said she was with him that day. He warned us about the serial killings right before everything got worse. And…" Vey hesitated, then shared vaguely, choosing words that wouldn't sound too impossible. "The other day after lunch, I went into the old science lab just to think. The room… it changed. Not suddenly or dramatically, but slowly and smoothly. It turned into something warmer, more inviting, like it was trying to make me stay and fill the empty space I always keep around myself. It felt too real, too perfect. I barely got out of there. I don't know how to explain it exactly, but it wasn't normal."
The others listened in uneasy silence, the rain providing a constant backdrop. Sorine wiped her eyes, her sadness still the dominant emotion. "That sounds really scary, Vey. Maybe it was just the stress of everything happening at once? The whole school feels wrong right now."
Kairo rubbed his temples slowly, his voice quiet and strained from the psychological toll of the loss. "Do you think it's possible someone impersonated Ren? The warnings he gives, the way he always seems to know things before anyone else… what if it wasn't really him with Tsubaki that day? What if someone used his face to get close to her?"
Vey shook their head, anger sharpening their tone as they clenched their fists at their sides. "I don't know anymore. But I'm done just waiting and wondering. I plan to involve the police. I'll tell them about Ren—how he came out of that alley the other day, the strange things he says and that Tsubaki was last seen with him. They need to look into it properly before anyone else disappears or gets hurt."
Mimo stayed mostly silent during the exchange, offering gentle nods and soft reassurances whenever Sorine needed them. Inside, however, the weight pressed even harder on her—the memory of cradling Tsubaki's broken body in the warehouse, the rain washing blood from her own face. She felt the psychological damage deeply, a twisting hollowness that echoed her own hidden hungers, but she maintained her calm, supportive facade for the group's sake.
The conversation lingered in heavy silence until the bell rang for the next class. As they walked back down the hallway, Ren Fushiwara passed them going the opposite direction. He paused briefly, his calm face showing nothing unusual. "Loss leaves a hollow that's hard to fill without something spilling over," he said directly, his eyes lingering on each of them for a moment longer than comfortable. "Take care of the spaces between you." Then he continued on his way without further explanation, leaving the group standing in uneasy quiet.
Vey's jaw tightened further, rage burning hotter in their chest. Sorine only felt a deeper wave of genuine sadness, fresh tears threatening to fall again as she squeezed Mimo's hand. Kairo looked even more withdrawn, the psychological damage from Tsubaki's sudden death mixing painfully with his unspoken longing for Mimo, making every breath feel heavier.
---
Lunchtime in the large cafeteria felt noticeably subdued. The usual lively chatter was muted, trays clattering more softly, and the smell of curry rice and miso soup seemed less comforting than before. The group sat together at their regular table, but the empty spot where Tsubaki would have been sat like a silent shadow among them. Rain continued pouring outside the large windows, streaking the glass in constant flowing lines and making the world beyond feel distant and blurred.
Sorine picked at her food with little appetite, her genuine grief making her voice small and shaky. "She would have been complaining about the rain right now, saying it ruined all her weekend plans again. She always found a way to make even bad weather funny."
Vey ate mechanically, their mind fixed on Ren and the decision forming in their thoughts. "We can't just sit here doing nothing. I'm serious about going to the police. Someone has to check on him before more things happen."
Kairo nodded slowly, his voice strained and tired from the emotional weight pressing on him. "If someone really could impersonate him… that changes everything. But why Tsubaki? She was just… herself. Always laughing."
Mimo listened quietly, offering soft words of comfort when the silence grew too heavy, but her eyes occasionally drifted to the rain outside the windows, that same distant look crossing her face as the psychological damage settled deeper inside her.
As the school day dragged on through afternoon classes, the weight of Tsubaki's absence settled heavier on each of them in different ways. Sorine carried pure, uncomplicated sadness, clinging to the remaining threads of their friendship like a lifeline in the storm. Vey burned with focused, quiet rage, already planning the words they would say to the police. Kairo and Mimo both felt the deeper psychological damage—the twisting emptiness left by their friend's violent death, each processing it in their own hidden, painful way.
By the time the final bell rang, the rain had not let up even slightly. The group walked home together under shared umbrellas, the steady patter on the fabric constant and oppressive, mirroring the heaviness in their chests. No one spoke much on the way. The hollow inside their small circle had grown noticeably wider, and the viscera of grief, suspicion, and unspoken damage threatened to spill over with the next strong push.
Somewhere beyond the school gates, the rain kept falling, washing the streets clean while leaving the deeper stains untouched.