Part 3 — What Broke at Lunch
For just a moment, everything felt normal.
And that was the most dangerous part.
Lunch was quiet at first.
Plates clinked softly. The room smelled warm, familiar—rice, soup, something Akari had made in a hurry. Everyone was seated, but no one was really relaxed.
Haruto ate fast.
Too fast.
Akari noticed it. Ayame did too. Kaito kept glancing at Haruto's hands.
Finally, Kaito spoke.
"Aka," he said, breaking the silence.
Akari looked up. "Yes?"
Kaito nodded toward Haruto. "Do you know how many places did he get hurt today during training?"
Haruto froze.
Akari blinked. "Hurt?"
Kaito continued, calm but firm. "His hand's injured. The baby finger—slightly burned. Ryūki control wasn't stable."
He paused. "There's strain in his leg too. And his forehead—he didn't even bother treating it properly."
The room went still.
Akari turned to Haruto. "Haruto…?"
Haruto slammed his chopsticks down.
"Why do you always complain?" he snapped, looking straight at Kaito.
Ayame flinched.
Kaito frowned. "I'm not complaining. I'm telling her—"
"No," Haruto cut in, voice rising. "That's all you ever do. Talk. Point things out. Do nothing."
"That's not true," Kaito said, his tone tightening.
"Oh yeah?" Haruto laughed bitterly. "Then what do you do? Watch? Judge? Run to Aka like some—"
"Haruto," Akari warned softly.
He ignored her.
"You think saying it out loud fixes anything?" Haruto continued, eyes sharp now. "You train less than me, risk nothing, and still act like you know better."
Kaito stood up slightly. "I'm trying to keep you from hurting yourself."
"Don't pretend you care," Haruto shot back. "If you did, you'd stop talking and actually do something."
Silence crashed down.
Ayame stared at her plate, hands clenched.
Kaito slowly sat back down. His jaw was tight, eyes unreadable.
Akari spoke gently but firmly. "Enough both of you."
Haruto ran upstairs, chest rising and falling too fast.
No one touched their food after that.
The lunch ended without another word.
But something had already broken.