Midterms crawled toward their end, but relief never came.

Each morning, Yui woke before dawn, her chest already tight, her thoughts tangled between formulas and fractured conversations. Yuki left early now. Sometimes before she even stirred. Sometimes without a word. The house felt hollow in his absence—too quiet, too empty, like something essential had slipped through the cracks.

They spoke only when necessary. Polite. Distant. Careful.

It was worse than arguing.

At school, she sat through exams with a steady hand and an unsteady heart. Her answers flowed, but her thoughts didn’t. She caught herself glancing toward the door during every break, half-expecting Yuki to appear—half-fearing he would.

He never did.

Rumors still trailed her through the halls, but quieter now, sharpened into knowing looks rather than open whispers. Louis’s roses had long since wilted, but their presence lingered like a bruise no one stopped pressing.

By the time midterms finally ended, exhaustion had sunk deep into Yui’s bones.

The announcement of the upcoming school trip buzzed through the classrooms like static—excitement, gossip, plans whispered behind hands. For everyone else, it was an escape.

For Yui, it felt like a trap.

She sat beside Karin during lunch, poking listlessly at her food.

“You’ve been weird lately,” Karin said carefully. “Like… haunted weird.”

Yui almost laughed.

“I’m fine,” she replied automatically.

Karin studied her, unconvinced. “You know… if you ever want to talk—”

Yui opened her mouth but words stuck in her throat. 

“…Thanks.”

She wasn’t ready. Not yet. The truth felt too heavy, too sharp. Like if she spoke it aloud, everything would fall apart.

--------

That night, Yui sat alone at her desk, papers spread out around her—old articles, clipped headlines, names circled in red ink.

Sanada.

Disappearance.

Foreign woman.

Hidden child.

She traced the words slowly.

Someone had erased the past—but not cleanly enough.

And she was going to find what they missed.

Very late at night, suddenly the doorbell rang.

Yui froze.

"At this hour?"

She descended the stairs slowly, heart thudding. When she opened the door, Louis stood there—hands in his pockets, posture relaxed, expression unreadable.

“…What are you doing here!? This late!?” she said sharply.

He replied lightly, stepping inside without waiting for permission, “Good evening!”

Her chest tightened. “My parents—”

“Aren’t home,” he finished calmly. “I checked.”

The air shifted.

“What do you want?” Yui demanded.

Louis’s gaze lingered—not on her face, but lower. Too low.

Her fingers flew to her chest.

Too late.

His hand darted forward, swift and precise. The chain snapped lightly against her skin.

Yui gasped. “Kisaragi—!”

He stepped back, the ring gleaming between his fingers.

“So this is it,” he murmured. “The proof.”

Her breath trembled. “Give it back.”

Louis smiled—but there was no mockery in it this time. “Not yet.”

“Why are you doing this?” she whispered. “If this is about humiliating Yuki—”

“It’s not,” he interrupted softly. “Not anymore.”

That frightened her more than anger ever could.

“I just needed leverage,” he said quietly. “And now I have it.”

Before she could stop him, he was already retreating toward the door.

“We’ll talk again,” he added. “On the trip.”

The door closed.

Yui stood shaking, fingers pressed to her bare collarbone.

---

The next morning, the buses waited beneath a pale sky.

Laughter echoed. Suitcases rolled. Teachers shouted instructions.

Yui boarded silently.

And then she saw Yuki.

He stood beside the bus, hair slightly messy, jacket half-zipped. His gaze lifted—and caught on her neck.

Bare.

His expression darkened instantly.

Their eyes locked.

She opened her mouth.

The teacher clapped loudly. “Everyone aboard!”

The moment shattered.

Yuki climbed on last, sitting two rows behind her.

The silence between them screamed.

---

The inn sat nestled between trees and sea, wooden balconies overlooking rolling waves. Students flooded in, excitement buzzing.

Yui barely had time to breathe before Louis appeared beside her.

“Walk with me,” he said quietly.

Her jaw clenched. “Give it back.”

“Later.”

She followed him to the edge of the grounds, heart racing.

“Why steal it?” she demanded. “You already knew.”

“Yes,” Louis admitted. “But knowing and holding proof are different things.”

“You’re crossing a line.”

“I crossed it the moment I confessed.”

She glared at him. “Give. It. Back.”

Before he could reply—

“Yui.”

Yuki’s voice cut through the air.

She turned.

He stood a few steps away, fists clenched, eyes burning—not with anger alone, but hurt.

“So this is it,” he said quietly. “You disappear. You avoid me. And now you’re with him?”

“Sanada—”

Louis took a step back, raising his hands slightly. “Relax. I was just returning something.”

He pressed the ring into Yui’s palm.

Yuki’s gaze dropped.

And froze.

“…The ring?” His voice cracked.

The world seemed to stop.

Yui’s fingers trembled around the metal. “…I can explain.”

“Do you even want to?” he asked hoarsely.

Yuki’s head snapped up. “Get away from her.”

Louis smirked faintly. “Stay alert.”

And then he walked off.

---

That night, the beach was quiet.

Yui sat on a rock, knees drawn to her chest, waves murmuring below.

Footsteps approached.

Yuki stopped beside her.

For a long time, neither spoke.

Then—quietly—

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Her throat burned. “Because every time I try… I’m scared you’ll pull away.”

He laughed softly—broken. “I already was.”

She looked up.

His eyes were red.

“If you want out,” he said, voice shaking, “say it. I’ll let you go.”

Her heart clenched.

She stood suddenly, grabbing his jacket.

“Don’t,” she whispered. “Don’t say that like it wouldn’t destroy you.”

His breath caught.

She pressed her forehead to his chest. “I don’t want freedom if it means losing you.”

His arms wrapped around her—tight, desperate.

“…You’re cruel,” he murmured. “You make it impossible. I wonder since when I started feeling so differently about us...”

She laughed softly through tears. “You’re worse.”

The waves whispered against the shore, steady and relentless.

Yui’s fingers were still twisted in the fabric of his jacket, knuckles white, as if letting go would mean losing him again.

Yuki exhaled slowly, his forehead resting against hers. His voice dropped—no sharpness left in it, only quiet ache.

“…You always keep a distance,” he murmured. “Even when you’re right here.”

Her lashes fluttered. “I don’t know how not to.”

He hesitated. Just for a second. Then—

“Then stop calling me Sanada.”

She stilled.

His hand tightened at her waist, grounding, warm.

Her breath caught.

“Call me,” he said softly, almost pleading, “by my name.”

The ocean seemed to hush.

“…Yuki,” she whispered.

The sound of it—unadorned, intimate—hit him like a physical blow. His breath stuttered, his grip faltering for half a heartbeat before pulling her closer, forehead pressing firmly to hers.

“…You’re unfair,” he muttered.

She smiled faintly, eyes shining. “You asked.”

He huffed a breath that almost sounded like a laugh, thumb brushing beneath her eye.

“…Stay,” he said. “Even if everything else is a mess. Stay with me. I know we were forced to be together and maybe you want to leave...but...I think at this point you make me go crazy...”

“I’m not going anywhere.” She replied determined.

Behind them, far beyond the curve of the trees, a figure stepped back into shadow—unseen, unnoticed.

And the ring, warm against Yui’s palm, felt heavier than ever.