Chapter 9
By the time Saturday evening arrived, Kikyo Kushida had already convinced herself this was not a date.
It was revenge.
A tactical outing.
A carefully planned social assassination wrapped in a cute smile and weekend clothes.
Nothing more.
That was what she told herself when she messaged Kiyotaka the night before.
The reply had come faster than expected.
That was it.
No suspicion.
No hesitation.
No extra question.
Kikyo had stared at the message for almost a full minute, her smile twitching in the darkness of her dorm room.
'Sure? That's it? You arrogant, suspicious, too-calm bastard. Fine. Come along, then. I'll make sure you regret acting so cool.'
Hiro's collapse had shaken the school. Worse, it had shaken Kikyo.
Hiro was not perfect. She knew that better than most. But he had praised her mask. He had called her angelic. He had told her she looked cutest when she was gentle, bright, and adored by everyone.
Even after seeing pieces of the ugly truth inside her, he had told her to bury it.
At the time, Kikyo thought that meant he cared.
Now Kiyotaka had walked into ANHS and torn Hiro's golden image apart in a few days.
And everyone was watching him instead.
That annoyed her.
No.
It infuriated her.
So when Kikyo spotted Kiyotaka waiting near the campus mall entrance the next day, dressed casually for the first time since arriving, her anger had to fight something much more irritating.
He looked unfair.
Not flashy. Not dressed like the Crown Hearts boys who always looked stage-ready even when buying drinks.
Kiyotaka looked casual in a way that felt deliberate without looking forced.
A dark jacket, simple shirt, clean lines, relaxed posture.
Nothing loud, nothing desperate, yet somehow the outfit made him look even more dangerous than his uniform did.
Like trouble had taken the weekend off and still remained trouble.
Kikyo's smile brightened automatically.
Inside, she cursed.
'Of course he looks good. Of course he does. Annoying. Disgusting. Unfair.'
"Kiyotaka-kun!" she called, waving sweetly.
He turned toward her.
That playful smile appeared.
Calm. Dark. Almost lazy.
"Kikyo."
Her heart skipped.
She hated that too.
"You came early," she said.
"So did you."
"I'm the guide, after all."
"Then I'm in your care."
His voice was smooth enough to sound harmless.
His eyes were not.
For one second, Kikyo felt like he was already laughing at a joke she hadn't made yet.
She pushed down the irritation and stepped beside him.
"Come on. There are lots of places I want to show you."
'And lots of ways to ruin you.'
Kiyotaka walked with her.
"I'm looking forward to it."
'No, you're not. You already know something. That smile is so annoying.'
What Kikyo did not know was that Kiyotaka had noticed everything before she even finished greeting him.
The slight tension near her eyes.
The way her smile arrived too early.
The extra sweetness in her tone.
The way her fingers moved near her bag, restless, rehearsed.
She wore her mask well.
Unfortunately for her, Kiyotaka had spent a year learning how to make a mask breathe.
Kikyo's was pretty.
His was alive.
Their first stop was a clothing store near the center of the mall.
Kikyo wandered between racks with perfect innocence, occasionally lifting shirts against herself and asking harmless questions.
"What do you think of this one?"
"It suits you."
"You say that without even looking properly."
"I looked."
"No, you glanced."
"A glance was enough."
Her smile twitched.
'Cocky bastard.'
Out loud, she giggled.
"You're surprisingly blunt."
"I'm practicing honesty."
"That sounds dangerous."
"It can be."
Her fingers tightened around the shirt hanger.
For a moment, she imagined smacking him with it.
Instead, she smiled harder.
Near the men's section, she found her chance.
A small security tag sat loose on one of the discounted shirts, poorly attached, easy to clip onto another fabric if someone had quick hands. Kikyo turned away as if browsing, then moved close to Kiyotaka when he reached for a jacket.
Her fingers slipped toward the side of his shirt.
Quick.
Light.
Almost perfect.
Almost.
Kiyotaka caught her wrist.
Not tightly.
Just enough.
Kikyo froze.
His eyes lowered to her hand, then rose to her face.
That playful smile remained.
"What are you doing?"
Her mind screamed.
'He noticed?!'
Her face smiled.
"There was a thread on your shirt."
"A thread."
"Yes."
He looked down.
The tag was between her fingers, hidden badly now that he had stopped her.
Kikyo's smile held.
Barely.
Kiyotaka leaned a little closer.
"Helpful."
His thumb brushed her wrist once before he let go.
Not romantic.
Not exactly.
But too calm. Too controlled. Too close.
Kikyo's cheeks warmed.
'Don't blush. Don't you dare blush. He caught you sabotaging him and you're blushing? Are you stupid?'
Kiyotaka took the tag from her fingers as if accepting a gift, turned, and dropped it quietly into a nearby return basket.
Then he walked toward the exit.
The sensors remained silent.
Kikyo followed, smile fixed.
Her confusion was hidden from everyone except the one person she wanted to fool.
Kiyotaka held the door open for her.
"Careful, Kikyo."
She stepped past him.
"Careful of what?"
"Loose threads."
His smile was soft.
Her soul made a very ugly sound.
Lunch was supposed to be easier.
Crowds were useful. Crowds made stories believable. Crowds loved accidents.
Kikyo picked a table near the open dining area, one with enough people nearby to witness the correct version of events.
The plan was simple.
Walk beside Kiyotaka.
Pretend to stumble.
Make it look like he bumped into her.
Tray falls.
Kikyo looks hurt but forgiving.
Someone records.
Rumor grows.
Late-enrollment monster becomes suspicious.
Easy.
She stepped slightly into his path, timed her foot wrong on purpose, and let her body tilt.
"Kya-"
Kiyotaka moved before the sound finished.
One arm wrapped around her waist, firm and steady, pulling her back against balance without spilling his own tray. His other hand remained perfectly level, holding his food as if gravity had politely agreed not to bother him.
Kikyo's tray, unfortunately, did not receive the same respect.
It slipped from her hand and hit the floor with a dramatic clatter.
The nearby tables turned.
Kikyo froze in Kiyotaka's arm.
His hand at her waist was warm.
Secure.
Far too comfortable.
Her face flushed.
'Move away. Move away right now. Don't just stand here like some heroine in a cheap romance scene. Push him. Accuse him. Do something.'
Kiyotaka looked down at her.
"Are you okay?"
His voice was low.
A little teasing.
A lot dangerous.
She smiled automatically, though her cheeks betrayed her.
"I-I'm fine. Thank you, Kiyotaka-kun."
"Good."
He didn't let go immediately.
That was the worst part.
The students nearby whispered.
"Did he just catch Kushida?"
"That was smooth."
"He didn't spill his tray."
"Why is that attractive?"
"Because standards are collapsing."
Kikyo finally stepped back, fixing her skirt and smile.
"How embarrassing. I'm so clumsy today."
Kiyotaka looked at the fallen tray.
"Very."
Her eyebrow twitched.
'You little-'
He leaned closer, voice quiet enough for only her to hear.
"If you want to fall, try choosing a place without witnesses next time."
Kikyo's smile nearly cracked.
Her heart, traitorous little beast, beat louder.
The movie theater inside the mall was her third attempt.
Dark room.
Close seats.
Limited visibility.
Easy misunderstanding.
Kikyo chose a romantic mystery film she did not care about and sat beside Kiyotaka in the back row, close enough to create opportunity but not so close that anyone could accuse her of being obvious.
The movie began.
For twenty minutes, she waited.
Then she shifted closer.
A little.
Then a little more.
Her shoulder brushed his.
Kiyotaka did not react.
That annoyed her.
She leaned closer again, preparing to whisper loudly enough for nearby students to misinterpret.
Before she could speak, Kiyotaka tilted his head toward her.
"Kikyo."
His voice was a whisper, dark and amused.
She stiffened.
"Yes?"
"You should be more aware of your surroundings."
"What do you mean?"
His eyes moved toward the side wall.
A security camera.
Then to the row behind them, where two students were pretending not to watch.
Then back to her.
His smile appeared in the darkness, faint but unmistakable.
"You're a cute girl. Sitting too close to someone suspicious could create strange rumors."
Kikyo stopped breathing properly.
A cute girl.
He said it lightly.
Almost carelessly.
But unlike Hiro's compliments, it did not sound like praise for her mask.
It sounded like he was teasing the entire performance.
Her face heated again.
'Don't get flustered. He's mocking you. He's mocking you while calling you cute. That doesn't count. That absolutely doesn't count.'
Out loud, she whispered sweetly, "Kiyotaka-kun, are you worried about me?"
"Maybe."
That one word was worse than a confession.
Kikyo turned toward the movie screen, furious and red.
'I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. Why does his voice sound like that?'
Beside her, Kiyotaka watched the film with the calm smile of a man enjoying two plots at once.
By late afternoon, Kikyo was running out of traps and patience.
So she chose karaoke.
The private rooms were perfect. No casual crowd. No easy witnesses unless she created them. She could provoke him, record something, twist something, anything.
Boys were predictable.
Put them alone with a cute girl in a private room, and eventually their eyes changed.
That was what Kikyo believed.
Because most people were easy.
Kiyotaka sat on the opposite side of the room.
Not beside her.
Not close.
Opposite.
Calm, relaxed, completely unbothered.
Kikyo stared at him.
"You're sitting far."
"You invited me to karaoke, not an interrogation."
She laughed sweetly.
"You're funny."
"You're disappointed."
Her smile froze.
"Kiyotaka-kun?"
He picked up the tablet used to choose songs.
"What's your favorite?"
The sudden question disarmed her.
"My favorite song?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"You brought me here. I should at least sing something you like."
Kikyo's fingers tightened around the microphone in her lap.
Nobody had asked her that today.
Not what would look good.
Not what would be popular.
Not what everyone else liked.
Her.
She gave him a title after a pause, half-expecting him to refuse.
He selected it.
The first notes filled the room.
Kiyotaka began singing.
Kikyo had expected something average. Maybe awkward. Maybe good enough to be annoying.
She had not expected his voice to make the small room feel smaller.
He did not sing loudly. He did not perform like an idol. He sang with controlled calm, each note clean, each breath steady. But his eyes stayed on her.
Not constantly in a creepy way.
Worse.
Naturally.
Like the song had only one listener.
Kikyo forgot to smile.
The lyrics were familiar, but coming from him, they felt different. Every line seemed to land too close, slipping past the angel mask she wore and brushing against the uglier, louder thing underneath.
Her fingers trembled.
'Stop looking at me like that.'
He continued.
'Don't make me feel special.'
The final note faded.
Kikyo lowered her gaze.
For once, she did not know what expression she was wearing.
Kiyotaka placed the microphone down.
"You like that song?"
She laughed.
It came out wrong.
Too sharp.
Too close to her real voice.
"Everyone likes that song."
"I asked if you do."
Her head lifted.
The mask cracked.
Just a little.
But cracks were dangerous things around someone like Kiyotaka.
"You're really annoying," she said softly.
The sweetness was gone.
The angel voice had slipped.
Kiyotaka's smile did not change.
"There you are."
Kikyo's eyes widened.
Then her face twisted.
Not completely. Not enough for anyone else to call ugly.
But enough for him.
"You think you're so smart, don't you?" she whispered. "Looking at people like you know everything. You're just like the rest. No, worse. At least most people are stupid enough not to notice."
Kiyotaka rested his elbow on the table.
"And you wanted me to notice?"
Her lips parted.
No answer came.
She hated that.
She hated how calmly he sat there, not recoiling, not judging, not looking disappointed.
Hiro had seen pieces of this side before.
He had smiled gently and told her she was prettier when she acted like an angel.
He had said it like kindness.
Like advice.
Like he wanted her to become better.
And she had believed him because it felt good to be chosen by someone adored by everyone.
But Kiyotaka was not looking at her angel face now.
He was looking at the venom leaking beneath it.
And he did not look away.
Kikyo's voice lowered.
"Don't stare at me."
"Why?"
"Because this is ugly."
"No."
The answer came too quickly.
Too certain.
Kikyo froze.
Kiyotaka picked another song.
She looked at the screen.
It was slower than the first. Deeper. A song about masks, truth, and the frightening relief of being seen without having to become clean for anyone.
He sang again.
This time, Kikyo listened.
Not as Kushida Kikyo, the beloved girl.
Not as the angel of Class D.
Just Kikyo.
Annoyed.
Wounded.
Poisonous.
Lonely in a way she had buried so deeply she almost forgot it had roots.
Kiyotaka's voice filled the room, and his smile remained playful, but his eyes were not laughing at her anymore.
They were holding her there.
Not trapping.
Not forgiving.
Seeing.
That was worse.
By the time the song ended, Kikyo's throat felt tight.
She hated it.
She hated him.
She hated that her heart was beating like it had found a door it wanted to open.
Kiyotaka stood.
Kikyo stiffened.
'This is it. If he comes closer, I can record something. I can twist this. I can still-'
He walked around the table and stopped in front of her.
Close enough for her to feel the pressure of him.
Not touching.
Not cornering.
Just there.
Dark. Playful. Dangerous.
Kikyo looked up, forcing anger into her eyes.
"What?"
Kiyotaka smiled.
"You're beautiful like this."
Her thoughts stopped.
He continued, voice low and terribly calm.
"Not when you smile for everyone. Not when you act like the perfect angel. That version is pretty, but it's crowded. Everyone sees it."
Kikyo couldn't move.
Kiyotaka's eyes stayed on hers.
"This face is yours."
Her heart hit hard once.
Then again.
Louder.
Faster.
The room felt too warm.
"That temper. That poison. That honesty you hate so much." His smile softened by a dangerous fraction. "It's far more interesting than the mask you're so proud of."
Kikyo's lips parted.
No words came.
For the first time all day, her mind did not insult him.
It did not plan.
It did not scream.
It only repeated the same impossible thought.
'He likes this side?'
No.
That was dangerous.
That was wrong.
That was unfair.
Her face burned so badly she stood up too fast, nearly knocking her knee against the table.
"I-I'm leaving."
Kiyotaka stepped aside.
He let her.
That annoyed her too.
She rushed to the door, hand on the handle, heart beating so loudly it felt like the room could hear it.
Before she opened it, his voice reached her again.
"Kikyo."
She froze.
"What?"
"You forgot to accuse me of something."
Her entire face exploded red.
She turned just enough to glare at him.
"I hate you."
Kiyotaka's smile curved.
"Noted."
"That wasn't a confession!"
"I didn't say it was."
"You were thinking it!"
"I think many things."
Kikyo made a furious sound, yanked the door open, and fled into the hallway with her angel mask in ruins and her cheeks glowing.
Several students outside turned as she rushed past.
"Kushida-san?"
"Are you okay?"
She smiled automatically.
"I'm fine!"
It came out too high.
Too bright.
Too fake.
And for the first time, the mask felt heavier than the face she had left inside the karaoke room.
Behind her, Kiyotaka remained seated in the quiet room.
The song selection screen glowed softly.
His smile stayed playful, dark, and patient.
'So that's the side Hiro told her to bury.'
He picked up the microphone again, not to sing, just to turn it in his hand as if weighing the shape of the day.
Outside, Kikyo pressed a hand over her chest and walked faster, angry at the heat in her face, angry at the sound of her own heartbeat, angry that the boy she wanted to ruin had looked at her ugliest face and called it beautiful.
And worst of all...
A small, traitorous part of her wanted him to say it again.
Kikyo Kushida couldn't sleep.
The dorm room was dark, but not peaceful. Moonlight slipped through the curtains in thin pale lines, touching the edge of her bed, her desk, the phone she had been pretending not to look at for the past hour.
Every time she closed her eyes, the karaoke room returned.
Kiyotaka's voice. His dark smile. The way he looked at her real face without disgust. The way he had called the version of herself she hated beautiful, as if venom was not something to hide but something worth admiring when it belonged to her.
Kikyo turned onto her side and pulled the blanket closer.
'He was lying. He had to be lying. Nobody looks at that side of me and means it.'
Her heart disagreed with her so loudly it made her angry.
She sat up, grabbed her phone, and stared at the screen until her reflection appeared faintly over the glass. Her hair was slightly messy, her eyes sharper than the gentle angel face everyone loved, and her mouth was pressed into a thin line.
This was his fault.
Kiyotaka Ayanokōji knew too much. He had seen through the smile she had spent years perfecting. He had peeled at the edges of her mask without even looking impressed by how well-made it was.
That made him dangerous.
Worse, it made him necessary to remove.
Kikyo opened their chat.
Her thumb hovered over the keyboard while the plan formed again, ugly and desperate.
If she could get him alone this late, near the ocean-view corridor where hardly anyone passed at midnight, she could record the conversation.
She could sound frightened. She could make him look suspicious.
One carefully placed accusation would be enough to stain his image, especially when the school was already watching him after the Hiro incident.
She could say he crossed a line.
She could say he called her out there and made her uncomfortable.
She could protect the mask Hiro once praised.
Kikyo's fingers tightened around the phone.
Hiro had liked the angel. Hiro had told her she was cutest when she smiled softly and buried the rest. At the time, those words had felt like acceptance. Now they felt like chains, but she was too used to wearing them to know what freedom was supposed to feel like.
She typed before she could stop herself.
She expected him to ignore her.
Part of her hoped he would.
The reply came quickly enough to make her jaw tighten.
Kikyo stared at the message, irritated by how calm it felt even through a screen.
She got out of bed and changed quickly, choosing clothes innocent enough to make her look harmless if anyone saw her. Her phone slipped into her pocket with the recording app ready.
By the time she left her room, her angel smile was already back.
It looked perfect.
It felt heavier than ever.
The ocean-view corridor was almost empty at midnight.
The glass wall stretched along the side of the building, revealing the dark water beyond ANHS's boundary lights. The moon hung over the ocean like a pale witness, and the corridor lamps were dim enough to make every reflection look secretive.
Kikyo stood near one of the benches, arms folded lightly, her phone tucked where it could catch their voices.
She practiced the expression in her head. Nervous. Vulnerable. Hurt. Not too much. Just enough.
The footsteps came from the far end of the corridor.
Kiyotaka appeared under the pale lights, wearing casual clothes beneath a dark jacket.
His usual playful smile was there, but something about him felt different tonight.
The charm was quieter, thinner, as if the polished version of him had stepped aside and allowed something colder to breathe through the gaps.
Kikyo smiled sweetly.
"Kiyotaka-kun, sorry for calling you this late."
He stopped in front of her, studying her face for a moment.
Then he took off his jacket.
Kikyo blinked.
Before she could ask what he was doing, he stepped closer and placed it over her shoulders.
"It's cold."
The plan stumbled.
Just for a second, but enough to annoy her.
His jacket was warm. It carried his scent, subtle and clean, and Kikyo hated how comforting it felt around her shoulders.
"What are you doing?" she asked.
"Keeping you warm."
"I called you here to talk."
"I know."
His smile stayed playful, but his eyes did not match it.
That was when Kikyo saw them clearly.
Earlier, his eyes had been sharp and teasing, dangerous in a way that made people lean closer despite themselves.
Tonight, they looked hollow behind the smile.
Not sad. Not angry. Just empty, as if the playful expression on his face had been placed over something that had never learned warmth properly.
Kikyo's mask faltered before she could stop it.
"Kiyotaka-kun... your eyes..."
He looked past her toward the ocean.
"My smile bothered you today."
She forced a light laugh. "What are you talking about?"
"You know what I mean."
His voice changed with that sentence.
The teasing rhythm faded. What remained was calm, flat, and distant, a voice that sounded like it had no need to impress anyone in the world.
Kikyo stepped back without meaning to. Her legs touched the bench behind her, and she sat down faster than she wanted to.
Kiyotaka turned back to her.
Those empty eyes settled on her face.
"I showed you part of yourself today. It would be unfair if I kept hiding mine."
Kikyo's fingers gripped the edge of his jacket.
The angel smile was gone now. It had slipped off too quickly to recover.
"You look empty," she whispered.
"I am, in many ways."
The answer came without shame.
That frightened her more than denial would have.
Kiyotaka stepped closer, stopping just in front of her. His expression still carried the faint curve of a smile, but his eyes stayed bare, deadened and honest in a way that made the corridor feel colder.
"The smile, the teasing, the charm, the way I speak during the day, all of it has purpose. It was taught and refined until it looked natural."
Kikyo stared at him.
"Why are you telling me this?"
"Because you think your real face is ugly."
Her breath caught.
He lowered himself in front of her, one knee near the floor so his gaze met hers properly. The gesture should have made him seem gentler, but with those eyes, it felt intimate and terrifying at the same time.
His hand lifted slowly.
Kikyo knew she should move away.
She didn't.
His fingers touched her cheek with surprising care.
Kikyo's throat tightened. Her real expression was exposed now, bitter and sharp, the buried self she had tried so hard to suffocate because Hiro had once told her she looked better without it.
Kiyotaka looked at that face as if it was the only one worth seeing.
"Beautiful."
The word was quiet.
Kikyo's eyes widened.
He continued in that same calm voice, almost lifeless, but somehow more sincere because of it.
"Your anger is beautiful. So is your jealousy, your venom, and the way your smile changes when you stop begging the world to love you. It isn't clean, and it isn't gentle. That's why it feels real."
Kikyo's lips parted, but no answer came.
His thumb brushed lightly against her cheek.
"You hide it because someone convinced you that side of you should disappear."
Hiro's voice returned in her memory, soft and poisonous in hindsight. He had praised the angel. He had smiled at the mask. He had called the rest of her something to bury.
Kikyo gave a small laugh, and for once it sounded closer to a crack than a bell.
"So you like ugly things?"
Kiyotaka's smile shifted.
This one was darker, smaller, and far less polished than the one he wore in daylight.
"I like honest poison more than fake medicine."
Kikyo stared at him.
For a moment, the recording phone in her pocket might as well have belonged to someone else. There was no scandal here, no useful accusation, no clean way to ruin him without showing the part of herself he had already touched.
A slow smile appeared on her lips.
Not angelic.
Not sweet.
Venomous and alive.
"You really are twisted."
"Yes."
"You say that so easily."
"There's no reason to be ashamed of something true."
Kikyo's hand moved before she could think better of it.
She reached for his face.
Kiyotaka didn't move away.
Her fingers touched his cheek, and she felt the warmth of his skin against the emptiness in his gaze. The contrast was wrong, and maybe that was why she couldn't stop looking.
"These eyes of yours," she whispered. "They're frightening."
"I know."
"They look like you could watch the entire school burn and only wonder whether the fire was worth studying."
"That sounds possible."
Her smile deepened, darker now, and something inside her trembled with a kind of delight she didn't want to name.
"Beautiful."
The word hung between them like a shared secret.
Kiyotaka's gaze changed slightly.
It was subtle, barely there, but Kikyo saw it.
For the first time that night, she felt like she had reached him too.
He had called her poison beautiful.
She had called his emptiness beautiful.
Neither compliment sounded safe.
That was why they felt real.
For a while, they stayed beneath the moonlit glass with their hands on each other's faces, smiling with eyes that did not pretend to be kind. If someone had walked by, they might have thought it romantic in the strangest way.
They would not have been wrong.
It was romantic.
It was also dangerous enough to make the corridor feel like a confession booth for villains.
Kiyotaka moved first, lowering his hand from her cheek.
The air felt colder when he pulled away.
Kikyo lowered her own hand a moment later, but his jacket remained around her shoulders.
Kiyotaka stood, the moonlight behind him turning his outline into something almost unreal. His usual playful mask began returning slowly, but his eyes stayed empty a little longer, as if he had not yet decided whether to hide them again.
"It's late," he said. "You should go back to your dorm."
Kikyo looked up at him.
"Are you walking me back?"
"Yes."
"Worried about me?"
"No."
"Then why?"
His smile became faintly teasing again.
"You're wearing my jacket."
Kikyo looked down at it, then gripped the collar with both hands.
"I could give it back."
"You could."
"But I won't."
"I assumed that."
Her smile sharpened.
"You're annoying."
"So are you."
A quiet laugh slipped from her before she could stop it. It was not her classroom laugh, not the polished sound everyone praised. This one was darker and less controlled, and somehow it felt better.
They walked back through the quiet campus side by side.
Neither of them said much. Kikyo kept his jacket around her shoulders, and Kiyotaka walked at her pace without asking what she planned to accuse him of. That irritated her almost as much as it relieved her.
The silence between them did not feel empty. It felt newly born, like something dangerous had opened its eyes and was waiting to be named.
At her dorm door, Kikyo stopped and turned to him.
For several seconds, they only looked at each other.
Her mask was still gone.
His eyes were still too hollow.
They matched in a way that should have scared her more than it did.
Kikyo reached for the jacket, but Kiyotaka shook his head slightly.
"Keep it tonight."
Her fingers paused.
"Won't you be cold?"
"No."
"Liar."
"Maybe."
Her venomous smile returned, laced now with something warmer and far more troublesome.
"I still hate you."
"I know."
"That wasn't a confession."
"I didn't ask for one."
"You were thinking it."
"I think many things."
She opened the door, stepping inside slowly while still wrapped in his jacket.
Before closing it, she looked at him one last time.
"Kiyotaka-kun."
"Yes?"
"If you tell anyone about tonight, I'll ruin you."
His eyes remained calm.
"If you could, you would have already."
Kikyo's smile widened.
"Good night."
"Good night, Kikyo."
The door closed.
Inside her room, Kikyo leaned back against it and pulled his jacket tighter around herself. Her phone was still in her pocket, the recording saved and useless.
She should have deleted it.
Instead, she opened the file and stared at it.
There was no accusation there. No evidence that would protect her mask. No clean little weapon she could use to remove him from the school.
Only his voice calling her beautiful like he meant the monster, not the angel.
Kikyo's smile slowly spread in the darkness.
It was not the smile Hiro had liked.
It was hers.
And down the hallway, Kiyotaka walked back alone under the midnight lights, the playful mask settling over his face piece by piece while the emptiness in his eyes lingered a little longer than usual.
For once, he did not feel the need to hide it quickly.