The walk home took longer than forty-three minutes this time.
Paulo let it.
Every step was deliberate, a metronome counting down to something he had not named yet.
The sun had dipped behind the apartment blocks, turning the sky the colour of old bruises, purple, yellow, the same palette painted across his ribs.
Tokyo Bridge loomed ahead, its underside still wet from yesterday's rain, the river sliding beneath like a black tongue.
He stopped at the railing, leaned over, and spat blood into the water. It vanished without a ripple.
His phone, miraculously intact after the dunking, vibrated once in his pocket.
He ignored it.
Another vibration.
Then a third.
He kept walking.
Paulo's house greeted him with the same hollow silence it always did.
No parents. overseas for work, always, no siblings, no dog.
Just the faint smell of antiseptic from the bathroom where he had stitched himself closed with fishing line and a YouTube tutorial at 3 a.m.
He dropped his keys into the ceramic bowl by the door, clink and the sound echoed like a gunshot in the emptiness.
He peeled off the black T-shirt, wincing as the fabric tugged at scabs.
The mirror in the hallway showed a stranger: cheekbones sharp under swelling, left eye a slit of blue, lips split in two places.
The red hair was the only thing left of the boy who used to grin at this reflection.
He stared until the image blurred, then turned away.
Kitchen.
Fridge.
Leftover rice, cold and hard.
He ate it standing over the sink, fork scraping ceramic.
The phone vibrated again, insistent now, a low angry bee.
He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and finally fished it out.
Battery: 6%.
17 missed calls from Alexis.
9 missed calls from an Unknown Number.
3 new messages from Miya.
1 new group chat invitation
He thumbed the group chat open.
Group Chat: "Sakura Survivors"
Members: Paulo, Alexis, Miya, Rin, Shin, Mizaki, Marina
The name made his stomach twist.
Survivors.
Cute.
The chat log loaded in chunks, timestamped from 2:14 pm, right after he had walked into school like a corpse with a pulse.
***
[14:14] Alexis: he is alive
[14:14] Alexis: I TOLD YOU GUYS
[14:15] Shin: pics or it did not happen.
[14:15] Alexis: Sent an image of Paulo earlier today.
[14:15] Alexis: look at his face. that is not photoshop.
[14:16] Rin: lmfao he looks like roadkill.
[14:16] Miya: stop. we need to talk strategy.
[14:17] Mizaki: Paulo-Kun is stronger than any of you gave him credit for.
[14:17] Rin: shut up princess.
[14:18] Marina: …this is messed up.
[14:18] Shin: marina grow a spine.
[14:19] Miya: no one speaks to him alone. ever.
[14:19] Miya: if he corners you, scream.
[14:20] Alexis: he looked at me like he was gonna skin me.
[14:20] Rin: let him try. round 2 when?
[14:21] Mizaki: You will regret touching him again.
[14:21] Rin: try me barbie.
[14:22] Miya: ENOUGH. Paulo is MINE to handle.
[14:23] Mizaki: We will see.
Paulo's thumb hovered.
The rice turned to ash in his mouth.
He scrolled up, there were older messages, from before today.
He had not been in the chat then. Someone had added him retroactively.
[09:03] Shin: body still missing.
[09:04] Rin: bet the fish are feasting.
[09:05] Miya: delete this.
[09:05] Alexis: too late screenshots exist.
He exhaled through his nose, slow and controlled.
The phone buzzed again, live.
[18:47] Shin: Hey, ghost you in here?
[18:47] Rin: say hi to your fan club
[18:48] Mizaki: Paulo-Kun, are you reading? ♡
He stared at the blinking cursor.
His pulse thudded in his ears, steady, cold.
Then he typed.
[18:49] Paulo: Yes.
One period. Nothing else.
The chat exploded.
[18:49] Alexis: FUCK.
[18:49] Shin: LMAO.
[18:49] Rin: welcome back king .
[18:50] Miya: Paulo. We need to talk.
[18:50] Paulo: No.
[18:50] Mizaki: I will come to you. Name the time.
[18:51] Paulo: Stay away from my house.
[18:51] Rin: or what? you gonna limp over here?
[18:52] Paulo: You will know when I am there.
He locked the screen before they could reply.
The battery icon flashed red.
He plugged the phone into the charger on the kitchen counter and watched the percentage crawl: 7%… 8%…
Upstairs, he changed the bandages. fresh gauze, more antiseptic that stung like betrayal.
The mirror in the bathroom was merciless.
He met his own eyes and spoke aloud, voice rough from disuse, "They think this is a game."
He opened the top drawer of his desk.
Inside: a black notebook, spine cracked, pages filled with Taekwondo forms, footwork diagrams, pressure points.
He flipped to a blank page and wrote five names in careful kanji.
Miya
Alexis
Rin
Shin
Mizaki
Under each, a single word in English: Method.
The phone buzzed again, vibration rattling against the counter downstairs.
He ignored it. Instead, he opened his laptop, fingers flying across the keys.
Sakura High's student portal.
Schedule database.
Club rosters.
He screenshot Miya's student council calendar, late nights, empty rooms.
Rin's kendo practice, locker room, 6 p.m. sharp.
Shin's part-time job at Luminos Café, closes at 10, walks home alone.
Alexis's route, cuts through the park, earbuds in, always.
Mizaki… trickier. Principal's daughter. Estate security. But Marina and Shizuka were weak links, Marina's Instagram stories geotagged the mansion's side gate every Thursday for "study sessions."
He bookmarked everything. Closed the laptop.
Downstairs, the phone had stacked 47 new messages.
He did not open them.
Instead, he created a new chat, private, encrypted, no name.
Added one contact: a burner he had bought months ago for a prank that never happened.
He typed a single message and scheduled it for 2:00 am, "See you soon." Send.
***
He powered the phone off, unplugged it, and slipped it into a drawer.
Then he went to the garage.
His father's old toolbox sat in the corner, dust-covered.
Inside: a coil of paracord, a tactical flashlight, zip ties, a roll of duct tape.
He laid them out on the workbench like surgical instruments.
From the back shelf, he pulled a small lockbox.
Combination: his mother's birthday.
Inside: a collapsible baton, aluminium, spring-loaded, 21 inches extended.
Legal for "self-defence" in Japan if you squinted.
He evaluated the snap, and the sound was satisfying.
Upstairs again.
He showered, the hot water turning pink where it hit his wounds.
He dressed in black, hoodie, cargo pants, trainers with the soles worn soft.
No logos.
No noise.
He packed a small backpack: water bottle, protein bar, first-aid kit, the baton, zip ties, a cheap voice recorder.
He hesitated, then added a roll of ten-thousand-yen bills, emergency cash.
Midnight crept closer.
He sat on the edge of his bed, eyes closed, breathing slow.
Taekwondo forms ran through his mind, poomsae one through eight, muscle memory overriding pain.
He visualized Rin's stance left foot back, weight on the ball, guard too high.
Shin's wild haymakers telegraphed, sloppy.
Alexis's hesitation he would flinch first.
Miya… Miya did not fight.
She directed.
And Mizaki, Mizaki was chaos in a ponytail.
His phone buzzed one last time before he shut it down for the night.
He could not resist.
One glance.
[23:59] Mizaki: I know you are awake.
[23:59] Mizaki: [image].
The photo loaded slowly: a selfie taken outside his house.
Mizaki in the dark, pink hair glowing under the streetlight, violet eyes staring up at his bedroom window.
She was smiling.
Caption: "Sweet dreams, Paulo-Kun. I will be waiting."
He stared at the image until the screen went black.
Then he smiled, small, sharp, humourless.
Tomorrow, the real game began.
He set the baton on his nightstand, lay back fully clothed, and closed his eyes.
Sleep did not come, but rest did.
The kind that sharpened edges.
At 1:57 am, the burner phone in the drawer vibrated once, scheduled message sent.
Somewhere across town, another phone lit up with those three words.
See you soon.
Paulo did not hear it.
He was already moving through the dark, a shadow with a list.