Part 2: Unspoken Names
He flipped the book open, his finger running down the roster.
"Amaya Homura."
"Here," Amaya answered clearly.
"Arashi Homura."
"Here."
Daigo's finger slid down the page, intentionally skipping past Ayame's name without uttering it aloud. In the wake of the chaotic raid, concrete answers were non-existent, and rumors had already spread like wildfire through the sector that Ayame hadn't survived the night. Most of the students sitting in the room already believed she was dead, while a few still clung to the desperate hope that she was clinging to life in critical care. Knowing the overwhelming weight that single name held, Daigo bypassed it entirely to keep the fragile room from collapsing into outright panic.
"Daichi Mori."
"Here."
"Haruki Aoba."
"Here."
"Haruto Inazuma."
Haruto didn't raise his head. His voice came out as a low, dry whisper that barely carried across the desk. "Here."
"Hina Kobayashi."
"Here..." Hina choked out, burying her face slightly into her crossed arms.
"Izumi Homura."
"Here."
Daigo's finger stopped on the next entry. The silence returned, heavier and sharper than before.
"Kaito Inazuma."
The room seemed to drop several degrees. Haruto's chest heaved once, a sharp, ragged breath cutting through his quiet numbness. He kept his eyes locked on the wooden grain of his desk, refusing to look at the empty seat beside him.
"He's in the hospital," Arashi said quietly, breaking the painful pause. "In the ICR."
Daigo held his breath for a long moment, the tip of his pen hovering over Kaito's name before he carefully marked the register. He cleared his throat, pushing forward through the remaining names.
"Misaki Hoshino."
"Here."
"Naoko Minami."
"Here."
"Raizo Okabe."
"Here."
"Riku Tanaka."
"Here."
"Sanae Fujikawa."
"Here."
"Shin Sugiyama."
"Here."
"Souta Nishikawa."
"Here."
"Tetsu Yonamine."
"Here."
"Yuna Sekiguchi."
"Here."
Daigo slowly closed the heavy leather cover of the attendance book. Eighteen names on the roster. Sixteen present in the room, one clinging to life in the ICU, and the lingering shadow of a girl whose uncalled name said everything without a single word being spoken.
He rested his hands on the wooden podium, looking out at the traumatized faces staring back at him. The air in the room was thick with unspoken grief, but the roll call was finished, and the cold reality of what lay ahead had finally begun.
Daigo slowly closed the heavy leather cover of the attendance book, resting his hands on the wooden podium as his eyes drifted across the quiet room.
He took in every detail: Hina's bloodshot eyes, Riku's trembling frame, the subtle tension in Raizo's shoulders, and Haruto sitting motionless in his wheelchair, completely drained. He realized immediately that trying to force a lesson today would be pointless.
"There will be no lessons today," Daigo announced, his voice carrying a rare, gentle calm.
A few heads turned up toward the front in mild surprise.
"Stay in the classroom," Daigo continued, pulling out his chair and sitting down. "Do whatever you need to do."
He offered no sweeping speech, no forced encouragement, and no hollow comfort. He simply sat at his desk, picked up a pen, and let the room breathe.
Beside the middle aisle, Amaya, Arashi, and Izumi remained clustered near Haruto's wheelchair. None of them pressured him to speak or forced him to react to the heavy silence surrounding them. Haruto stayed motionless, staring blankly at the dark wood of his desk, until the sheer weight of physical exhaustion and mental strain finally caught up with him. His eyelids grew heavy, his posture slackened, and his head slowly lowered onto his crossed arms over the desk. Within moments, his breathing smoothed into a deep, exhausted sleep.
Noticing his fallen head, Amaya gave a quiet gesture to Arashi and Izumi. The three of them stood up on tiptoe and moved a few desks away, sitting together so their presence wouldn't disturb his rest. Every few moments, Amaya's eyes flicked back toward Haruto, making sure he remained undisturbed.
Across the room, Hina sat alone at her desk. She folded her arms tightly on the wooden surface and buried her face into them, hiding from the rest of the world. She didn't utter a word, but every now and then, her shoulders hitched in slight, silent trembles as she fought to hold herself together. Respecting her pain, nobody approached her.
In the next row, Daichi sat with Naoko and Riku. Unusually subdued, Daichi kept shooting anxious glances toward Hina's hunched form, visibly torn over whether he should go over.
Naoko placed a soft hand on his arm, whispering, "Give her some space, Daichi."
Daichi swallowed hard and nodded, lowering his gaze.
Riku remained quiet, his eyes wandering around the room as if trying to process how drastically everything had shifted in twenty-four hours. Naoko looked over at him, her voice filled with quiet concern. "Riku... will you be okay without a home?"
Riku offered a small, tired smile, his eyes fixed on the floorboards. "I'll figure something out."
Daichi opened his mouth to say something, but the words caught in his throat. He had no answer for a loss that absolute.
Near the back, Haruki and Sanae spoke in hushed, hesitant whispers, with Tetsu leaning in to listen. They traded rumors and pieces of news—how many casualties had been reported, the extent of the damage across the sectors, whether the Hunters were truly gone, and what the elders planned to do next. None of them actually had the answers, and as the futility of guessing set in, their voices gradually faded into silence.
By the far window, Misaki sat alone, her chin resting on her hand as her gaze drifted over the outer village. She wasn't intentionally ignoring her peers; her spirit was simply too spent to engage. Her eyes occasionally shifted toward Hina, a faint shadow of hesitation crossing her face, but she couldn't find the right words to bridge the gap. Turning back to the glass, she let the quiet view swallow her thoughts.
At the rear of the classroom, Raizo sat with Shin, far quieter than usual following his outburst.
"Are you alright?" Shin asked softly.
"I'm fine," Raizo replied, staring straight ahead.
Shin knew better, but he refrained from pushing. He simply stayed seated beside him, offering his steady, silent support.
On the other side of the row, Souta and Yuna talked in low tones about the events of the raid. Eventually, their conversation drifted toward the wounded.
"Kaito is still in the ICR," Yuna reminded him gently.
Souta furrowed his brow slightly, looking at her with a quiet, confused pause. "ICR? What does that mean?"
"It stands for Intensive Critical Care Room," Yuna explained softly, her voice heavy. "It's where they keep the people whose injuries are too severe for regular hospital wards."
Souta went quiet, the remaining words drying up in his mouth as the reality of Kaito's condition set in. Neither of them knew what else to say after that.
Quiet, scattered conversations drifted through the room, punctuated by long stretches of silence. Some students spoke in muted tones, some sat isolated, and others simply stared at their desks. Nobody laughed. Nobody attempted to pretend yesterday hadn't happened. At the front, Daigo remained still, giving them the space they desperately needed to process their grief in their own way.
In the middle of it all, Haruto remained fast asleep, his chest rising and falling in slow, heavy rhythms.
Amaya looked over at him one last time, whispering softly to Arashi and Izumi, "Let's just let him sleep."
They nodded in agreement, and around Haruto's quiet frame, the room settled into a heavy, watchful peace.
Hours bled together into a heavy, motionless haze. The sun slowly tracked across the sky, casting long, stark shadows through the classroom windows.