The empty stairwell became Tsurugi's new normal.
It was his hiding place. He sat on the cold concrete steps, knees pulled up, watching the dust motes dance in the thin sunlight filtering through the narrow window. The air here was still, and the silence felt heavy, but safe. Safe from the looks. Safe from the whispers.
He had learned the school's rhythm: when the halls were empty, when the classes were held, and when the janitors made their rounds.
He timed his movements perfectly, a silent ghost moving between the shadows.
He was sitting there, halfway up the second flight of stairs, when he heard footsteps. They weren't the hurried steps of healthy students.
These were slow, uneven steps, followed by the definite, solid thump-tap of a thick, wooden cane.
Tsurugi froze. He held his breath, pressing himself flat against the wall, hoping the person would just walk by and assume the stairwell was empty.
The footsteps stopped right at the bottom of the stairs, directly beneath him.
"Tsugu?" a voice called out. It was a kind, familiar voice, but it was softer now, strained, like it took effort to project.
"You up there? I know you are."
His heart, which had been hiding in the silence, suddenly started hammering violently against his ribs.
It was Hayato.
Tsurugi stayed still, his mind screaming at him: Don't answer. Don't let him see you. You did this to him.
The silence stretched, long and painful. Then, the rhythmic thump-tap of the cane started moving again, slowly, painstakingly, coming up toward him.
"Tsurugi, I'm not going to leave," Hayato said, sounding patient but exhausted.
"I just want to talk for two minutes. Please."
When Hayato finally reached the second-floor landing, he stopped, leaning heavily on the cane - a dark, sturdy thing that looked like it belonged to an old man, not a high school athlete. He looked terribly pale and thin.
There was a faint, jagged line ---a fresh scar---just above his left temple, mostly hidden by his hair, a grim line where the surgeons had worked.
"There you are," Hayato said, his voice flat with relief and a touch of struggle.
He lowered himself carefully onto the step below Tsurugi, moving like a fragile piece of glass.
"I've been looking for you. I waited for you near the main gate every day this week."
Tsurugi couldn't speak. He looked down at the concrete floor, his eyes avoiding the scar, avoiding the cane.
They were not just signs of his failure; they were the living, breathing proof that he had nearly taken a life.
"I… I didn't know you were waiting," Tsurugi mumbled, the lie feeling weak and shameful.
Hayato sighed, a long, weary sound that echoed in the quiet space.
"Of course you knew. You've turned off your phone. The group chat is going crazy. They miss you, Tsurugi. I miss you."
Hayato reached into his pocket and slowly pulled out a small, crumpled yellow candy wrapper.
"Look," Hayato said, forcing a cheerful tone that didn't quite reach his eyes.
"The lemon ones. We always shared them before practice, remember? I brought you one. I thought it might help with the hiding."
Tsurugi didn't move. He just stared at the bright yellow wrapper lying in Hayato's pale, trembling hand.
"Why did you quit, Tsugu?" Hayato asked, his voice suddenly dropping to a raw whisper.
The question was simple, but it felt like a massive boulder Tsurugi couldn't push away.
He finally raised his eyes and looked at Hayato.
He saw no blame, only deep exhaustion and aching concern.
That look, that unconditional friendship, tore Tsurugi apart.
"I can't," Tsurugi whispered, the words catching in his throat.
"I can't be near a shinai. I can't be near the dojo. I can't be near you."
"Because of the accident?" Hayato's voice was gentle, almost pleading.
"Tsurugi, I know it was bad. I know I was out cold for three days, and the doctors were worried about brain swelling. But it was an accident. The headguard slipped. It was bad luck, man. It wasn't your fault."
Bad luck? Tsurugi thought, the bitterness tasting like acid. No. I put you in a coma. I almost killed you.
He focused on the cane, the dark wood seeming to mock his easy escape.
"You have a cane," Tsurugi said, his voice flat and hard.
"You have a scar that could have been a grave. I fractured your skull, Hayato. I almost killed my best friend. You should be in bed, not climbing stairs on my account."
Hayato shifted his weight, his face tightening slightly in pain.
"The pain is temporary, Tsurugi. The sprain will heal. The scar will fade. But the team needs you. I need you. The only thing that isn't healing is you hiding here."
Hayato then did something Tsurugi feared most. He reached out and gently placed his hand on Tsurugi's knee.
Tsurugi reacted violently. He flinched away with a sharp gasp, pulling his leg back and pressing his body hard against the cold concrete wall.
He was terrified of Hayato's touch, terrified that he might lose control and cause another accident.
Hayato's face dropped completely. He looked shocked, deeply hurt, and yes---for one terrifying second-a little scared.
Tsurugi saw the flash of fear in his friend's eyes, and his mind seized on it: See? He flinched. You are dangerous. You are a monster. You have to push him away.
"Don't touch me," Tsurugi said, his voice ragged and low, sounding alien even to his own ears.
He wasn't trying to be mean; he was trying to put up a wall, a shield, between the danger he was and the life Hayato deserved.
"Tsurugi…" Hayato whispered, confusion overwhelming the pain in his voice.
"What are you doing? I'm your friend. I forgave you the minute I woke up."
"You shouldn't have," Tsurugi spat out, forcing the venom into his words.
He stared past Hayato's shoulder, avoiding the warmth of his gaze.
"I'm not safe. I'm unstable. I lost control once, and I hurt you badly. I can't risk it happening again. You need to leave me alone, Hayato. Go back to the dojo. Focus on getting well. Don't waste your recovery on me."
Hayato gripped his cane and struggled to stand. "But I don't want to go back without you! I don't care about the risk, Tsurugi! We're going to get through this together, just like we always do. Tell them it was my fault, tell them anything, just come back."
Tsurugi felt a crushing wave of love and self-hatred. Hayato was offering his whole heart, his loyalty, and his future, and Tsurugi felt he had to protect it by destroying it. He had to make Hayato hate him for Hayato's own safety.
He inhaled sharply, gathering the air to deliver the final, lethal blow—the ultimate lie.
"No, we're not," Tsurugi said flatly, his voice hollow.
"I quit because I hated kendo. I hated the rules, I hated the training. I hated the pressure. And honestly? I'm relieved I don't have to pretend to be friends with anyone on that team anymore."
The lie hit its mark. Hayato stopped breathing. His expression froze, the hope and kindness draining away, replaced by stunned, aching betrayal.
"You… you don't mean that," Hayato stammered, his hand shaking on the cane.
"I do," Tsurugi lied one last time, forcing his eyes to be cold.
"It's over, Hayato. We're not friends. Now, go. I don't want anyone to see you talking to me. It'll just make you look bad."
Hayato searched Tsurugi's face, staring into the dark emptiness Tsurugi had created.
Finally, he gave up. His shoulders slumped, the weight of his injury and the rejection crushing him.
He stood up slowly, managing his pain, and didn't say another word.
He just dropped the yellow candy wrapper onto the step—a bright spot of hope abandoned on the dusty concrete—turned around, and began the slow, torturous journey back down the stairs.
The sound of the heavy wooden cane thump-tap, thump-tap, thump-tap grew softer, retreating, signaling the final, complete collapse of Tsurugi's world.
Tsurugi remained frozen against the wall, watching until Hayato's weak form disappeared.
The moment Hayato was completely gone, the tension left Tsurugi's body, leaving him weak and shivering. He slid back down onto the cold step.
He looked down at the yellow wrapper. It was an offering of unconditional friendship, now rejected.
He reached out slowly and picked it up. He unfolded the wrapper, feeling the crinkle, but he didn't open the candy.
He had succeeded. He had pushed Hayato away with the cruelest lie possible. Hayato was safe now, protected from Tsurugi's instability.
But Tsurugi didn't feel relief. He felt a crushing, absolute agony.
He was totally alone, and the silence was suffocating. He had traded the pain of being called a killer by strangers for the unbearable, self-inflicted pain of destroying the one relationship that mattered.
He folded the yellow wrapper and tucked it into the front pocket of his uniform, close to his hammering heart.
It was a constant, searing reminder that he was now exactly where he believed he belonged: completely isolated, unforgivable, and alone.