Part 1 — The Morning That Wouldn't Let Go
Morning light filtered gently into Akari's room, thin rays slipping through the window and falling across the futon on the floor. Haruto stirred, brows knitting faintly before his eyes slowly opened. For a moment, he didn't move. His body felt heavy, his thoughts dull, as if the night hadn't fully released him yet.
He sat up slowly, rubbing his eyes, shoulders slumped. Akari noticed from across the room.
"You're awake," she said softly.
Haruto nodded, still half-asleep. After changing his clothes, he followed her downstairs, footsteps quiet against the floor. The house felt unusually calm.
Ayame and Kaito were already near the entrance, slipping on their shoes. Ayame tied her laces quickly, energy already back in her movements, while Kaito adjusted his jacket.
"We're going out to play," Ayame said cheerfully, glancing back toward the kitchen.
"Don't be late," Kaito added.
Akari nodded. "Be careful."
Renjiro stood nearby, arms crossed, watching them leave. The door slid shut, their voices fading as they headed outside.
Haruto yawned, blinking slowly.
"…Where did Ayame and Kaito go?" he asked, voice rough with sleep.
"They went to play with friends," Renjiro replied. "Get ready and eat fast. You can catch up to them."
Haruto nodded lazily and walked over to the table. He pulled out a chair and sat down, posture relaxed but tired, eyes still heavy. He glanced at the bowl placed in front of him, steam rising quietly.
"What's breakfast?" he asked.
"Miso ramen," Akari replied, sitting across from him.
Haruto picked up his chopsticks and began to eat quietly, steam from the ramen drifting upward between him and Akari. His movements were slow, almost absent-minded, as if his body was present but his thoughts were somewhere else.
Akari watched him for a moment, then spoke.
"Haruto," she said gently, "what was the help you asked Daigo for?"
His chopsticks stopped mid-air.
Haruto lowered them back into the bowl, eyes fixed on the surface of the broth. The room felt suddenly still.
"…The night before exam day," he began quietly, "when I went to take my futon so I could bring it into Aka's room…"
Renjiro straightened slightly, listening.
"I heard a knock on the window."
Akari's expression tightened, but she didn't interrupt.
"When I opened it," Haruto continued, "it felt like… I was looking at myself."
A pause.
"He told me to protect Ayame," Haruto said. "He said she would die in the upcoming days."
The words landed heavily.
"For a second, I thought… there are people around. Shinobi. Adults. So I don't need to do anything."
He shook his head faintly.
"But he said that on that day, no one would be in the village. All the shinobi would be out… for some reason."
Haruto took another bite, then stopped again.
"Yesterday, when I said we should head home or everyone would be late… Arashi said his parents were gone for a meeting. That didn't bother me."
His grip tightened slightly.
"But when Ayame read the letter you left on the table… saying you both were in a meeting…"
He exhaled slowly.
"I thought—this was the day."
Akari and Renjiro remained silent, letting him continue.
"I couldn't sleep," Haruto said. "I had this feeling… like something bad was coming toward me."
He lifted his gaze briefly, then lowered it again.
"I wanted to protect her. So I did what I could. With clones. And the way it was written in the book… I followed it."
A quiet moment passed.
"But now there's a truth," he said softly. "I can't do anything about it."
Renjiro spoke at last.
"…Do you trust us?"
Haruto answered without hesitation.
"Yes. I do."
Renjiro's voice remained calm, but firm.
"Then why didn't you tell us before?"
Haruto's shoulders fell slightly.
"I thought you'd say I was dreaming," he admitted. "That it was just a nightmare. That I was imagining things."
Akari leaned forward, her voice warm and steady.
"You don't need to think that way," she said. "Not with us."
Haruto nodded faintly, then continued.
"When hunters attacked me four years ago… I ran."
His jaw tightened.
"But it kept getting harder. They came again and again."
He finally raised his eyes.
"And I can tell… they'll attack again."
The room fell quiet. Morning light filled the space, calm and ordinary—yet carrying the weight of what now lay ahead.