Part 7 — The Aftermath
Meanwhile… Akari and Renjiro walked down the dimly lit streets, the night air heavy around them. The silence between them was tense, filled with unspoken worry, until Daigo's words from earlier replayed in Renjiro's mind.
"He said… Haruto came to him," Renjiro began cautiously. "Asked for help… to save someone."
Akari's eyes widened. "What? Haruto… he actually asked Daigo?"
Renjiro nodded. "Yeah. But here's the thing—Daigo wanted to know exactly what help Haruto needed. He pressed him." He glanced at Akari, concern etched deep on his face. "And Haruto… he just said he doesn't trust Daigo in that way… and walked off."
Akari's hands clenched at her sides. "He didn't tell him? After asking for help? That's… that's so Haruto. But why wouldn't he trust him?"
Renjiro shook his head. "That's the problem. We don't know. And now Daigo's left trying to figure out what Haruto wanted—and we're left in the dark too."
A heavy silence fell over them as they continued down the empty street, each lost in thought. The shadows around them seemed sharper somehow, and the distant sounds of the city felt muted, like the world itself was holding its breath.
Akari finally spoke, her voice low but determined. "Whatever it was Haruto needed… we're going to find out. Before it's too late."
Renjiro's jaw tightened. "And we need to be ready for whatever comes next. Daigo… Haruto… someone's going to get hurt if we don't understand what's really going on."
They kept walking, the weight of Haruto's secret pressing down on them, and the night seemed darker than ever.
The house was silent when Akari and Renjiro stepped inside.
The front door was open.
Renjiro pushed it wider.
Blood spread across the floor near the entrance. A body lay motionless beside it, half lost in shadow.
"Upstairs," Renjiro said instantly.
They moved fast.
One room.
Three futons placed close together.
Ayame and Kaito were asleep, breathing steady.
The third futon—
Empty.
They rushed back downstairs.
"Haruto!" Akari called.
"…Here."
Haruto sat on the sofa. He lifted one hand weakly when he saw them.
Akari reached him first and pulled him into a tight hug. Renjiro knelt beside them, one hand gripping Haruto's shoulder.
After a moment, Akari pulled back slightly, searching his face.
"Are you hurt?"
Haruto didn't answer.
Instead, he lifted his hand and pointed past them.
"…Please," he said quietly. "Clean it."
Akari turned, seeing the blood again. Renjiro rose to his feet.
"We'll take care of it," he said.
Both of them started to stand.
"Wait."
Haruto's voice broke.
They froze.
"I just…" He swallowed. "I want to hug someone. Don't leave."
Akari sat back down immediately and wrapped her arms around him again.
"I'm here," she said softly.
Renjiro hesitated, then nodded once and walked away.
Haruto leaned into Akari this time, his breathing uneven.
She held him firmly, grounding him.
After a while, she spoke gently.
"Let's play a game," she said. "I say a word. You say the first thing that comes to mind."
Silence.
"…Okay."
"Ayame."
"…I don't know."
"That's fine," she said. "Kaito."
"…Nothing."
She smiled faintly. "Let's try again."
He nodded.
"Ayame."
"…Danger."
Akari didn't react.
"Kaito."
"…Stubborn."
"Akari."
"…Saviour."
Her breath caught, but she kept going.
"Renjiro."
"…Shield."
"Arashi."
"…Best friend."
She paused.
"Amaya."
Haruto opened his mouth—
"No—"
He stopped and covered his mouth quickly.
Akari tilted her head slightly, a gentle tease breaking through.
"Ohhh… someone's got something."
Haruto looked away, silent.
She waited, then softly—
"Your stomach."
"Pain."
"Your head."
"…Injured."
Akari felt his grip tighten slightly.
"…Haruto."
He froze.
Opened his mouth.
Closed it.
Covered it again.
Akari smiled and rested her chin lightly on his head.
"…Stubborn," she said.
Haruto exhaled—a slow, shaky breath.
And for a moment—
he finally felt held.
Haruto's breathing slowed. The game, the hug, the tension of the night—it all finally caught up with him. His eyelids drooped, head leaning gently against Akari's shoulder. Within moments, he was asleep, small and still in her arms.
Renjiro rose quietly, careful not to disturb him. He went to the spot where the blood had pooled and began cleaning, methodical and precise. Once it was done, he stepped outside with the smoke gun.
A thick plume of ash-gray smoke rose from the barrel, heavy and slow, curling upward like molten mist. At its core, a faint red glow pulsed softly against the dark night. The smoke climbed silently into the sky—a signal only those who knew its meaning would recognize.
Minutes passed. Then, from the darkness, figures emerged, moving swiftly yet deliberately toward the house. The officers of the Capital Ward arrived on foot, clad in gray uniforms that matched the smoke itself. Arm badges gleamed faintly at their sleeves, and their open helmets and caps revealed sharp, alert eyes beneath.
"Yes?" one officer asked sharply as they approached. "Capital Ward. What's the matter here?"
Renjiro stepped forward, Akari beside him. "We… we don't have any idea how this happened," he said. "Only one child saw it, but he's not in a state to speak right now. Once he wakes in the morning, we'll inform you of everything."
The officer nodded briefly. "Fine. We'll notify the National Police Bureau. You can provide details there tomorrow."
Renjiro's eyes narrowed. "We'll talk directly with the Central Authority."
Another officer stepped closer, voice firm. "You cannot escalate this to the highest authority without the permission of the National Police Bureau. That's procedure."
Renjiro said nothing, jaw tight. The officers moved efficiently, locating the body. In a few controlled movements, they lifted it and carried it away into the night, the muted gray of their uniforms fading back into the darkness.
Once the last of them vanished from sight, Renjiro turned and walked back toward the house. Akari followed silently.
Inside, the living room was still. Haruto slept, untouched by the chaos outside. His small form rose and fell gently with each breath.
Akari knelt beside him, brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead. "He's finally resting," she whispered.
Renjiro stood silently, hands in his pockets, eyes scanning the empty room. The house was quiet once more, but the weight of the night lingered in every corner.
For now, there was only the quiet of the living room and Haruto's steady breathing.
Haruto lay on the sofa, asleep, still and quiet. Akari knelt beside him, her eyes scanning every detail, voice barely a whisper in the empty room.
She reached for his hands first, gently lifting them. She turned his fingers slowly, checking for scratches, cuts, or anything unusual. A few faint scratches marred the skin, but nothing deep. She let her thumbs brush over them lightly.
Next, she moved to his arms and shoulders, sliding her hands carefully along the skin. His muscles were tense under her touch, evidence of strain and exhaustion, but no fresh wounds.
Akari's gaze shifted lower. She bent slightly, checking his legs. She ran her hands lightly along his calves and thighs, careful not to wake him. Faint scrapes and bruises marked the skin, but nothing severe.
Finally, she checked his neck, tracing gently from the collarbones to the base of his throat. No signs of deep injury, only a slight redness from where the shirt had rubbed against him.
She exhaled softly. "Just scratches… nothing serious… not here anyway," she whispered.
Akari hesitated, then bent over his torso. She gently lifted the hem of his shirt—then Haruto stirred, opening his eyes groggily.
"…What's wrong?" he murmured.
"I was just changing your dress," Akari said softly. "To make you more comfortable."
He nodded faintly, then lifted the shirt himself. Once it was off, he lay back on the sofa, closing his eyes again.
Akari's eyes immediately caught the dark stains on the shirt. Her gaze shifted to his stomach.
Renjiro, standing silently nearby, noticed it too.
"…The blood," he murmured, voice low.
Akari held the shirt closer. "Looks like it stuck to him," she whispered.
Renjiro grabbed a tissue and gently pressed it against the blood on Haruto's stomach. At first, it seemed to stop—but then more seeped through.
He pressed again. The blood kept coming.
Akari's eyes widened. "He's hurt…"
Renjiro's jaw tightened. "Yeah… this isn't just on the shirt. He's actually bleeding."
Akari rested her hand lightly on his shoulder. "We'll take care of you," she whispered.
Renjiro nodded grimly. "We'll make sure this doesn't get worse."
The quiet of the house pressed in around them. Haruto slept peacefully, unaware, but both of them knew—he needed help immediately.
Renjiro moved quickly, pulling out the first-aid kit while Akari stayed close to Haruto's side. Together, they worked in silence. Renjiro cleaned the area carefully while Akari held Haruto steady, her hand resting near his shoulder in case he stirred.
They wrapped his stomach firmly but gently, making sure the pressure was even.
"He's stable," Renjiro said quietly. "For now."
Akari nodded, though the worry didn't leave her eyes.
By the time they finished, the weight of the day finally caught up to them. The meeting. The body. Haruto. Everything.
They stood there for a moment, exhausted.
"…I'm hungry," Akari admitted softly.
"So am I," Renjiro replied.
They moved to the kitchen, the house quiet except for the faint hum of the lights. They ate whatever was quick, neither of them really tasting the food.
After a few minutes, Akari broke the silence.
"Who do you think did it?" she asked. "Do you think… Haruto did?"
Renjiro paused, then shook his head slowly. "I don't know. But I found something."
He looked up. "Five kunai. And a large shuriken."
Akari's eyes sharpened.
"The shuriken and four of the kunai are mine," Renjiro continued. "But the fifth one… I have no idea. It wasn't mine."
"So it belonged to the other person?" Akari whispered.
"Most likely," Renjiro said. "Which means Haruto wasn't alone in whatever happened."
They both fell silent again.
Akari glanced at the clock.
2:00 AM.
"…We should sleep," she said, though her voice lacked conviction.
Before heading to bed, Akari went back to the living room to check on Haruto.
The moment she reached him, she noticed it.
He was sweating.
She placed the back of her hand on his forehead.
"…He's hot."
Renjiro joined her. "Maybe a nightmare," he said quietly. "He's had them before."
Akari looked down at Haruto's face, tense even in sleep.
"…Should we move him?" Renjiro asked. "His room… or yours?"
Akari didn't hesitate. "Mine."
She laid a futon beside her futon while Renjiro carefully lifted Haruto, mindful of the bandage. Haruto stirred slightly but didn't wake, instinctively gripping Renjiro's shirt for a second before relaxing again.
They settled him down gently.
Renjiro straightened. "I'll be in my room."
Akari nodded. "Thank you."
Renjiro left quietly.
Later that night, Haruto shifted in his sleep, rolling closer until his arms wrapped tightly around Akari, clinging as if afraid she might disappear. Akari stiffened for a moment—then slowly rested a hand on his back.
"It's okay," she whispered. "I'm here."
Haruto didn't wake.
But he didn't let go either.
The house finally fell silent—three rooms occupied, each carrying the weight of the same night, waiting for morning to come.