The rain continued its relentless rhythm on Tuesday, but by midday the weight of grief had become too heavy for some to bear inside Seika High's damp corridors. Sorine sat through the first two periods with Mimo's hand in hers, but her eyes kept drifting to Tsubaki's empty desk. The genuine sadness made every lesson feel distant and pointless. During the short break, she leaned toward Vey and whispered, "I can't stay here today. It feels wrong sitting in class like nothing happened." Vey nodded, their own rage toward Ren still simmering. "Same. Let's leave early. We can tell the office we're not feeling well."
They gathered their bags quietly and slipped out before the next class started, signing the early-leave sheet with vague excuses about feeling unwell. The hallways felt colder as they walked toward the gate, rain drumming on their umbrellas. Sorine's shoulders stayed slumped with pure sorrow. Vey walked beside her in silence, the anger making their steps sharper. Neither wanted to stay in the building where Ren's calm voice still echoedAfter the final bell rang that afternoon, most students hurried out into the rain, umbrellas blooming like dark flowers along the paths. Mimo waited near the school gate, her dark hair slightly damp at the ends, her uniform neat and her gentle smile in place despite the weather. Kairo joined her a few minutes later, his bag slung over one shoulder. He looked exhausted, dark shadows under his eyes. The psychological damage from Tsubaki's death had settled deep inside him, twisting painfully with every memory of her easy laughter and the way she used to elbow him playfully. Mimo turned to him softly, her voice gentle against the patter of rain on their umbrellas. "Walk with me? I don't want to go home alone right now."
Kairo agreed without hesitation. They walked side by side under one umbrella, the rain falling steadily around them. The streets glistened with water, puddles rippling as cars passed in the distance. Mimo spoke about small, ordinary things—how the rain made everything feel heavier lately, how quiet the group felt without Tsubaki's laughter. When they reached Kairo's modest family home—a simple one-story house with a small front garden now turned muddy—she paused at the gate. "Can I come in for a while? Just to watch something and not be alone?"
Kairo's heart skipped. He nodded, leading her inside. The house was empty and quiet; his parents were away for work and would not return until late the next day. They settled in the living room, the television casting a soft, flickering glow across the wooden floors and simple furniture. They chose a quiet Japanese drama, something light and undemanding to fill the silence between them. Hours passed as the movie played, the rain providing a constant, rhythmic backdrop outside the windows, drumming on the roof and windowsills.
As the evening deepened and the credits finally rolled, Mimo shifted closer on the couch. Her hand found Kairo's, fingers warm despite the damp chill that had seeped into the house. Without a word, she leaned in and kissed him. The kiss started soft and tentative, then deepened with quiet urgency. Kairo froze for a heartbeat, surprise mixing with the aching longing he had carried silently for so long. Mimo pulled back just enough to meet his eyes, then stood slowly and began to strip. Her school blouse slid off her shoulders, revealing smooth pale skin. The pleated skirt dropped to the floor. She stood naked in the dim light of the living room, her body soft and inviting in the glow from the television screen. Kairo's breath caught. The grief and emptiness pushed him forward, and he went with the flow. They moved to his bedroom, clothes falling away completely as bodies pressed together. The intimacy was urgent yet quiet, filled with the raw need to feel something warm and alive against the growing hollow left by Tsubaki's death. The rain drummed louder on the roof above them as they lost themselves in each other, the psychological wounds temporarily eased by physical closeness.
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Morning light on Wednesday filtered weakly through the curtains, pale and gray because of the continuing rain. Mimo woke first. She slipped out of bed naked, her bare feet padding softly across the cool wooden floor into the living room. The television was still on from the night before, now switched to the morning news channel. The main headline filled the screen in bold letters: "Serial Killings Spread Across Japan – Multiple Victims Found with Brutal Wounds in Abandoned Sites." The reporter spoke in a serious, measured tone about throats slashed open, abdomens torn wide, and viscera left exposed in rain-soaked locations from Tokyo to smaller regional cities. Brief images of police tape and covered bodies flashed across the screen.
Kairo emerged from the bedroom a few minutes later, rubbing sleep from his eyes. He stopped in the doorway when he saw Mimo standing there completely naked, watching the news with a distant, unreadable expression. "We're lucky my parents didn't come home last night," he said softly, a small, awkward smile touching his lips. "That could have been… complicated."
Mimo didn't respond. She continued staring at the screen, the news playing on without pause. Kairo watched her for a long moment, the realization settling heavily in his chest. She had probably done what she did for emotional support—both of them so deeply wounded by Tsubaki's death, reaching desperately for something warm to fill the hollow that had opened inside them. Maybe she had seen how broken they both felt and offered the only kind of comfort she knew how to give in that moment.
Mimo finally moved. She picked up her scattered clothes from the floor, dressed quickly and silently, and headed straight for the front door. She left immediately, the sound of the door closing softly behind her with a quiet click. Kairo stood alone in the living room, the news still murmuring in the background. I didn't even tell her my feelings, he thought, the ache returning sharper and more painful than before.
He picked up his phone and opened the group chat. Vey replied first: "Sorine and I left early yesterday. Neither of us is coming in today either. It's too heavy right now." Sorine added a short message filled with quiet sadness. Kairo stared at the screen for a long time, then decided he wouldn't bother going to school either. The guilt hit him hard—sleeping with Mimo on the very night Tsubaki's body had been found. The psychological damage twisted deeper inside him. He needed to do something, anything, to quiet the storm in his head. He picked up the morning newspaper from the doorstep. The headline confirmed the television report: multiple brutal murders, one major scene described as an abandoned warehouse on the edge of the industrial district.
Kairo grabbed his jacket and umbrella and headed out into the rain. He made his way across town to the warehouse, the address printed clearly in the article. The area was quiet and industrial, with tall chain-link fences surrounding old, weathered buildings. When he arrived, yellow police tape already sealed off the entrance in bright, fluttering lines. Three people had been murdered there that night, the paper said. Kairo stood at the edge of the cordon, rain dripping steadily from his umbrella. He peered through the gaps between the barriers, catching glimpses of white chalk markings on the concrete floor outlining where bodies had lain. Dark blood stains still marked the ground in wide, irregular patches, some diluted by the endless rain into faint pink smears that spread toward the drains. Broken crates and rusted metal beams cast long, jagged shadows across the scene. He searched for anything that might give answers—footprints, dropped items, any small clue—but the police had already cleared most visible traces. Nothing useful stood out. After twenty long minutes standing in the pouring rain, the guilt and emptiness only heavier, he turned and walked away, shoes splashing through puddles.
Evening came early under the thick gray clouds. Kairo felt completely drained. He found a wooden bench under a streetlight in a small, quiet park near his neighborhood. The pale yellow light from the lamp cast a small circle on the wet ground, rain pattering on the leaves of the trees overhead and dripping from the edges of the bench. He sat down, tilting his umbrella to shield himself, and closed his eyes for a moment, trying to rest his tired mind.
He had been sitting there only a few minutes when he noticed two figures at the other end of the bench. They had been there the whole time, silent and perfectly still, as if they belonged to the shadows themselves. A tall man in a tailored black suit and black gloves, a smooth white mask covering his entire head. On his lap sat a small child with long black hair falling past her shoulders, dressed in simple boys' clothing now soaked through, an identical white mask hiding her face. Rain streamed off both of them in steady rivulets, but they remained completely motionless.
The child tilted her masked head slightly and spoke in a light, sing-song voice that cut clearly through the sound of the rain.
"Hi there, Kairo. I'm Crypt and this here is Index. Nice to meet you."
The tall man—Index—said nothing, one gloved hand resting calmly on the child's back as the rain continued to fall around them..