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I want to live for a single fleeting moment
Like a flower that blooms sweetly
And then quietly wither away,
For you're no longer here.
When Hanano woke up to the familiar sight of her bedroom ceiling and the feeling of freezing cold burning her cheeks, she knew that the last loop was a failure. Again.
She let out a heavy sigh and watched as the condensation of her breath briefly coiled on itself before fading away.
When she'd realized that she was reliving the same day over and over again alongside Ken, she could hardly believe it: her own private playground, where she could scheme and hunt and indulge in everything she could have ever wanted, no matter how dangerous or cruel? An endless game of cat and mouse, in which she could finally live the torrid rivalry she'd always dreamed of and be recognized for her talents and her guile? A grand play where she could play the role of both director, centre stage and antagonist? What was there not to love for a despicable, unrepentant villain such as herself?
At first, she had revelled in the excitement the time loop gave her. Not anymore. The hunt that used to make her heart flutter had turned into a meaningless chore, the prey drive that guided her every step with fated purpose dulled by hundreds of days worth of mind-numbing repetition. The satisfaction of coming up with new plans to keep Ken on his toes, the thrill of the chase as she rushed through the school to finish her "work" before he had the time to put his own machinations into motion, the elation of watching the light finally leave her victim's eyes — usually Kazutoshi, sometimes Ken himself — and feeling the warm blood pool beneath her cold-bitten fingers, the horror on everyone's faces when they realized what she had done… none of it meant anything to her anymore. It had become boring. Mundane. Predictable. Now, every murder she committed only served to bring her a faint and hollow feeling of gratification, tainted by the weary realization that she and Ken would have to do the same dance all over again the next day.
This time loop, she had come to realize, was nothing but a poisoned chalice, a baited trap whose deadliness she hadn't noticed until it finally closed around her throat and stole the life from her lungs. After all, what use was a playground that she couldn't leave once she was satisfied? What use was a game of cat and mouse when death and suffering was nothing but a temporary inconvenience? What use was a play that no one else but her remembered and whose ending never changed no matter how much blood she shed on the pages?
A gilded cage, no matter how shiny, was still a cage.
And now, she wanted out.
Hanano pushed herself up and off the bed and shambled towards the bathroom to wash her face. The reflection that looked back at her in the mirror barely felt like hers anymore. Had she always looked so dishevelled, so tired? She couldn't remember. She eyed the beauty products neatly lined up on her counter, as if begging to be used. She had stopped bothering putting on makeup after her tenth loop or so — she'd quickly learned that Ken often used the stillness of the early mornings to further his plans, and the time she gained by leaving her room early was time she could use to throw a spanner in his works… or as they'd agreed on, to give him a hand in his attempts to make them escape the time loop.
After a moment of silent deliberation, she picked up a small brush. She had to make an effort on her appearance for this loop. It was going to be a special one, after all.
The one where she would kill Nishino.
She and Ken had spent hours deliberating over it. They'd already tried so much to break the endless cycle they were trapped in: changing their murder method, choosing a different time, targeting different people, or killing each other before the game could kill them, but nothing they did seemed to steer them away from the morbid fate that awaited them at the end of each loop. However, there was one thing they hadn't tried; one faint possibility that stayed at the back of their mind but was left unsaid for months until desperation eventually brought it forward in all its disgusting glory.
Hanano had spent hundred of loops tormenting Ken by targeting Kazutoshi — it was the quickest and easiest way to get to him, after all —, and Ken had paid her back in her own coin by targeting Nishino. Yet, even after all this time, none of them had ever tried to turn their knives against the ones they'd been trying to protect for so long.
The idea tasted like ash on their tongues. Still, they couldn't help but cling to it, in the vain hope that this final act of cruelty would be enough to bring an end to their eternal limbo.
Ken had been… unwilling, as he often was. The horrors of the time loop had shaped him into a formidable foe and a delightful nemesis — far better than anything she could have ever wished for with her dear Manami —, but he still remained a spineless coward at heart. Which left her as the only one capable enough to put their sick plan into motion.
Once Hanano was done, she gave herself one last look in the mirror. She looked… presentable. Barely so. It wasn't her best job, but at least she didn't look like she hadn't slept for days anymore.
It would have to do. She didn't have much time to prepare.
As she exited the bathroom, she smoothed the creases off her suit, put her bandages on and retrieved her fox mask from under her pillow. Despite her best attempts to keep it warm, the polished ceramic pressed like cold needles against her skin.
The hallways of Fujioka Memorial High School were quiet when she finally slipped out of her room. It didn't really surprise her — it was still pretty early, and with the cold motive at its peak, most people tried to enjoy the relative comfort of a warm(?) bed for as long as possible before getting up to eat breakfast… which made it the perfect moment for her to nab Kazutoshi's gyozas, as well as some leftovers for herself. The others would probably make a fuss about it later, but she didn't really care. The loop wasn't going to last long enough for them to confront her about it, anyway.
If she was lucky enough, it might even be her last loop.
She'd already come to terms with the prospect of dying for good. When she'd killed Manami, right before her first loop started, she'd been ready to embrace her own demise with open arms and a childlike glee — such was the villain's role, after all. This time wasn't much different. The only qualm she had was the fact that Nishino would have to pay the price along with her. Thankfully, Hanano wouldn't stay alive for long enough to think about it too hard.
After that, she started her daily morning patrol. Or at least, what used to be her daily morning patrol.
It felt strange, going back to that old routine of hers. After hundred of loops, she had learned everyone's schedule to a minute and knew exactly what to do and say to make them go wherever she needed them to be. Patrolling was perfectly useless to her. Still, the familiarity of it was oddly comforting. The act of wandering in those corridors she knew by heart made her feel powerful, like a cunning fox prowling in the night in search of its next victim. It was fun, despite the monotony of it.
On the way, she grabbed the wood-carving knife she'd stashed in the art supply room, slipped it in her pocket, then dropped her food haul in the staff room's fridge. That was all she would be needing for today's plan. She didn't need to make it convoluted or interesting — just discreet, quick and to the point. She wasn't planning on staying around long enough to get caught, anyway.
By the time she was done, it was time for her to meet with Nishino near the dining room.
"Oh, Hananoooo!"
Hanano stopped and turned her head in time to see Nishino trot down the hallway with a bright smile on her face, her gloved hands tightly clutching the thick blanket she had wrapped around her to stop it from falling off her shoulders. The sight didn't surprise her by any means — she knew the fire dancer's schedule by heart, after all —, yet she felt her pulse quicken beneath her bandages.
Since when did a simple, run-of-the-mill murder plot make her feel so nervous?
"Hello," Hanano simply said as she waited for Nishino to reach her level.
"I see the hall overlord is already on patrolling duty! Do you have anything — or anyone — suspicious to report to your headmaster?"
"Unfortunately, no."
"Well, that's good news! That means no one is planning anything bad!" That we know of, Hanano wanted to add, but she kept her mouth shut. "Did you already get breakfast?"
"Not yet. Do you want to go eat with me? I saved us some leftovers in the staff room."
Hanano would never have tried something so bold and suspicious with anyone else... but this was Nishino she was talking to. She trusted her. Besides, they often had breakfast or lunch together in the staff room. Nishino would never suspect anything from that kind of invitation.
As expected, the fire dancer gave her a warm look and followed in her step.
"Sure!"
They were nearing the corner of the hallway when they passed by Ken and the living heap of blankets and coats that was supposed to be Kazutoshi. They exchanged brief words, mostly consisting of Nishino pointing at Kazutoshi's ridiculous get-up and the crime scene cleaner grumbling about "how much the motive fucking sucked", while Ken looked on with an apologetic expression that reminded Hanano of a kicked puppy. Once they were done, she gave a discreet glance over her shoulder and was met with Ken's gaze, sharp and cold like a hawk's. They exchanged a small knowing nod and turned their own way.
Before this entire time loop thing, she never would have pegged the quiz show champion as a good actor.
She was pleasantly surprised to have been proven wrong.
Hanano took her misokatsu out of the fridge and grabbed two sets of chopsticks from the cupboard — one for her, one for Nishino. She silently tilted her head to the side when she noticed Nishino frowning as she opened her own container.
"Isn't that Toshi's food?" The fire dancer asked, looking up at her for answers.
Hanano stayed silent, considering what to say. Judging by her tone, she knew that no matter what she said, Nishino probably wouldn't be very happy about it.
"… It's everyone's food," she finally settled on, hoping her evasiveness didn't look like an admission of guilt.
The room went quiet for a second, as though the world itself was waiting with bated breath.
"Hananooooooo," Nishino finally whined, her expression shifting to a disappointed pout. "You can't just steal his food like that! It was made just for him!"
"I didn't take all of it," she lied as she put her misokatsu in the microwave. "Besides, if he didn't want us to take it, he shouldn't keep it in the kitchen fridge in the first place. It's just common sense. He's just begging for his food to get poisoned at this point."
"Don't say something like that…" Nishino bit the inside of her cheek and crossed her arms, eyeing the gyozas with what was clearly hunger. After a moment of consideration, she took the container and put it alongside Hanano's in the microwave. "… You're lucky I don't want to go back to the kitchen to get something else."
Hanano sat down at the table and rested her chin against her hand. "Does this mean I'm off the hook?"
"You get away with it this time. If this keeps happening, though, I might have to dock your salary."
"I— I don't get paid, though?" She stammered, confused by the sudden turn in the conversation.
Nishino let out a soft chuckle and sat down next to her, scooting her chair closer to hers until their knees were almost touching. She could feel the warmth radiating off of her, even from here. "Now, let me get in your coat, I'm freezing."
Hanano didn't have to be told twice: she silently tugged at the clasps of her coat and opened it just enough for the fire dancer to slip inside, her body pressing against hers until she was almost completely sitting on her lap and her head was nestled comfortably in the crook of her shoulder. A shudder ran down her spine when Nishino's warm breath tickled her neck, the contact bringing feeling back into her skin and bones, numbed by the deathly chill. Before she realized it, her arms were already wrapped around her back and her hands settled on either side of her waist, keeping her close.
For this Nishino, it had been less than a day since their last hug. For Hanano, it felt like an eternity.
"Ah… so warm…" Nishino let out a pleased sigh as she tucked her arms and legs snugly between their bodies.
"You know you'll have to get up to get your food eventually, right?" Hanano asked, unable to conceal the light amusement in her voice.
"I don't caaaaaaaare," Nishino mumbled, burying her face deeper in the fluff of her coat. "It's so cold… you're lucky you came here with some warm clothes."
"It's getting quite cold, even for me," she noted, looking down at the fire dancer. Her cheeks stung with every word, the freezing ceramic of her mask pressing against her skin as she spoke. "It's only a matter of time before someone decides to do something to make it stop."
Nishino groaned. "Don't remind me... I wish there was a way to make this motive stop without killing anyone."
"If there was one, I think we would have found it by now."
Silence fell between the two of them, tense and uncomfortable. Nishino shifted against her, her usually bright expression warped by a wistful frown.
"… I just don't want to think about someone having to die," she eventually said, her voice uncharacteristically small.
Hanano didn't say anything and instead brought her closer. She couldn't help but admire the blind desperation with which Nishino turned her eyes away from the bleakness of their situation, as if ignoring it for long enough would make it magically disappear. It was foolish, selfish even, yet almost endearing in its childishness and earnestness. Hanano couldn't possibly blame her for doing it, especially when she was the one who indulged her in the first place.
"Would you like to do something, then?" she asked softly, her fingers idly playing with a loose strand of Nishino's hair. "After breakfast, I mean."
Nishino looked up and made a pensive pout. "I don't know… it's too cold to do anything, it suuuuuucks…" Her head fell back against her shoulder with a muffled thud. "Let's just… stay like this for a while, okay?"
"… Okay."
She didn't mind doing that. It felt nice, and it made her feel warm again.
If she could, she would stay like this forever.
They didn't have to wait for long before the microwave broke the silence with its shrill beeping. Nishino mumbled something under her breath and slowly pried herself away from the warm embrace, leaving an empty cold where she used to sit. She shuddered and whined in discomfort as she made the short trek to the microwave to grab their food — as soon as the containers were out of her hands, she retreated back into Hanano's coat with a soft sigh, like a small animal snuggling for warmth against the fur of its parent.
"We… can't really eat while you're sitting on my lap," Hanano commented, eyeing the leftovers that remained untouched on the table.
Nishino shot her a pleading glance. "But I don't want to leave my Okazaki coat tent…"
"We'll make a mess if we eat like that. Besides, the food should keep us warm enough."
She groaned and settled back on her own chair. "Okay…"
Hanano grabbed a set of chopsticks and started eating her misokatsu at a slow and steady pace, trying her best to ignore the churning feeling in her stomach as she did so. After hundred of loops, Mai's cooking had long since lost its appeal to her, and she didn't feel that hungry this loop. She ate up anyway, carefully angling her mask to the side to keep an eye on Nishino. Her heart fluttered when the fire dancer grabbed a steaming gyoza, dipped it in sauce and carefully brought it up to her mouth.
Nishino was on her third gyoza when Hanano finally remembered to breathe.
Now wasn't the time to drop the act.
It was too late to go back, anyway.
"Ah… Mai's cooking is amazing!" Nishino exclaimed as she stuffed another gyoza in her mouth. She rested her head on her hand, a dreamy sigh escaping her lips. "She would make the perfect wife… strong, independent, and a great cook? Where do I sign up?"
Hanano stared blankly. Even after so much time spent in the fire dancer's company, she still struggled to understand what she found in the brawny bounty hunter. "… If you say so."
Eventually, Nishino finished her food and huddled back under her coat, blissfully unaware of the countdown that now loomed over her very life. It was only a matter of minutes before the Rohypnol kicked in — even though she was bigger than Kazutoshi, she also ate a lot more than he did.
These few minutes, Hanano realized, might be the last moments she and Nishino would ever share with each other.
The thought left her feeling colder than ever before.
She looked down at her, grateful that her mask concealed the expression on her face. She knew she had to say something, anything. She couldn't let those precious minutes slip away. So why?
Why did it feel so hard for her to utter a single word?
"Nishi," she finally managed to whisper, more hesitantly than she'd have liked.
Nishino craned her neck to look at her. "Hm? What is it?"
"I'm… glad that you're my friend. Thank you."
She was being sincere.
There were very few people Hanano would truly consider as her friends. She didn't really mind that; the life of someone such as her was fated to be a solitary one, after all. However, she couldn't deny the warmth and peace that Nishino's cheerful presence brought to her everyday life. The fire dancer was lively and boisterous, but above all, she was earnest. When she was with her, Hanano didn't feel like she had to pretend anymore — she felt seen. Understood. Accepted, in a way she had never been before and that she couldn't get enough of for a reason she struggled to understand even now. When she was with her, she felt like she was truly free for the first time in her life. Free from the loneliness and the pain of the path she had chosen for herself. Free from the claws of her bloody past, and the uncertainty of her future.
She loved her.
She knew that this love was a selfish one, that it was only a matter of time before she bit the hand that fed her so tenderly — after all, a fox was still a predator, no matter how soft its fur was —, but she didn't care. She enjoyed Nishino's presence and the fun they had together more than anything else, and she wanted to enjoy this fleeting warmth before it eventually slipped away from her fingers.
Nishino's eyes widened slightly, shining like bright embers against the spotless white of her coat and boring through her mask. Her lips stretched into a impish grin. "Where is this coming from? I didn't think you were the sentimental type."
Hanano tore her gaze away from Nishino and settled it on the side of her head instead.
She shouldn't have said that. It was too sudden, too suspicious. She was giving herself away. "I'm not, it's just… you, um… said the same thing yesterday, so I wanted to…"
"… Aw, look at you!" The fire dancer lifted a finger to gently poke her mask. "You're getting embarrassed~"
"I-I'm not!" she retorted too quickly.
"You are! Your ears are all red! So cute!"
"I-It's because of the cold!"
Nishino giggled, the sound warm and clear like the tinkling of bells. Her hand came to rest against Hanano's chest as she snuggled even closer, trapping the excuses in her throat before they could escape her lips. She hoped the fire dancer couldn't feel the frantic beating of her heart through the suit. "I'm glad you're my friend too, Hanano."
They stayed like this for a moment, basking in the comfortable quiet and the soothing warmth of their intertwined bodies. Hanano didn't dare move an inch or say a word, as though the slightest disturbance might break the spell that had enveloped them.
"You know," Nishino finally said, breaking the silence, "we should find each other when we get out of here. Do something together."
Her words were like a brand seared into Hanano's stomach. Her breath caught in her throat, the sound thankfully muffled by her mask.
"That…" she hesitated, pausing briefly to stop her voice from wavering. "… would be nice."
She knew she shouldn't be entertaining this. She shouldn't give her that kind of hope, not when she knew how their story would end. If her plan to break the time loop worked, they would never see each other ever again, no matter how much their hearts longed for it, and the future they'd hoped to see together would rot before it could even bear fruit. Still, something inside her urged her forward, the gentle yet empty words spilling like hot coals from her mouth, burning her throat and leaving nothing but a cold void in her tightened chest. Was it pity that prevented her from keeping her mouth shut? Mercy? Fear? Hope? She wasn't sure, but it felt both right and horribly wrong.
"… You're from the Ōita prefecture, right? Are there some nice things to see there?"
Nishino gave her a nod. "Yeah! Most people come to Ōita for the pretty sights. We have mountains, waterfalls and lakes everywhere, huge natural parks… there's also this big suspension bridge in Kokonoe that let's you see the forest from way up high. It's nice, I think you would enjoy it."
"There's also the hot springs," Hanano chimed in.
"Well, obviously," Nishino chuckled. "You can't go to Ōita without at least visiting an onsen. That's basic tourist etiquette."
"I've never been to an onsen."
"I'll treat you to one when we're out of here, then. It's really relaxing, you'll see. When you're done, you feel all nice and smooth and your muscles feel like they're made of jelly."
"That sounds fun."
Nishino grinned at her. The thought of having to erase such a gentle smile from this world felt unholy, obscene even — befitting of a villain like Hanano. Yet, despite it all, it made her heart sink.
"It's a date, then!" A drawn-out sigh escaped her lips and a small shiver shook her slumped shoulders. The Rohypnol was starting to take effect on her — she was already looking more lethargic, her movements more sluggish. "I wish I was at an onsen, right now… so cold…"
Hanano kept her talking for several minutes. It wasn't a difficult thing to do — Nishino liked talking about everything and anything, even when Hanano didn't have much to say, and Hanano liked listening to her. Eventually, the fire dancer's speech became slurred, her gaze unfocused, her eyelids heavy; before she could even realize something was wrong, she'd already fallen asleep on Hanano's shoulder, and the staff room fell into silence once more.
Slowly, carefully, Hanano slipped her arms under Nishino's knees and back and lowered her to the ground, making sure her long overcoat and skirt didn't crease as she did so. For a moment, she allowed herself to stare. The girl looked peaceful, as though she was merely resting her eyes, her lashes shivering with each unconscious twitch of her face and lips parted in a word that would never come. Her long hair fanned around her face like a halo, her red coat spreading like wings around her sleeping figure: Hanano brushed the dark locks away from her cold-bitten cheeks and tucked them behind her ears, her fingers lingering briefly on the side of her face and sliding to her throat to feel the pulse beneath the warm skin, faint, but steady.
She could stay like this, if she wanted. Let the minutes idly pass by, let Nishino wake up from her slumber and pretend nothing had ever happened. But doing that would mean going back into the cage she'd grown to loathe, repeating the same boring days in the same boring building with the same boring people over and over again until love and warmth and blood and pain lost all its meaning.
Hanano let out a sigh.
She loved Nishino, more than she ever thought was possible.
But she was so, so tired.
She pulled the woodcarving knife out of her pocket, the metal gleaming coldly as she twirled it between her fingers. She pressed the pad of her thumb on the edge of the blade and watched as familiar pain bloomed beneath the skin and warm blood soaked through the bandages.
No matter how many times she used it, it never lost its sharpness.
She knew from experience that she had to do this quickly. The Rohypnol, as potent as it was, would only give her so much leeway. That wasn't really a problem for her — her time spent in the loops and Ken's precious insight had taught her countless ways to maim and kill efficiently. She ran the possibilities through her mind: a simple stab to the chest with that kind of knife wouldn't be deep enough to reach the heart, and would ruin Nishino's clothes; a slash to the inner thigh would be much faster and efficient, but the idea of reaching up her skirt to find a good cutting point felt wrong. Hanano's gaze finally settled on her neck, soft and vulnerable. A cut there would make her bleed out in less than a minute, if she did it properly. She wouldn't have to suffer.
She reached up to her mask and pushed it upward, ignoring the biting chill that prickled her exposed skin. Clutching the knife tightly, she leaned over the fire dancer's body and settled the blade against her throat. She couldn't help but notice the slight quivering of her hand as she did so.
It's simply the cold, she told herself, but she knew it was a lie.
After so many loops, the cold had long since stopped bothering her.
"I'm sorry it has to be this way, Nishi," she whispered as she leaned forward, her breath mingling briefly with Nishino's. "I truly am."
Gently, softly, she pressed her lips against Nishino's forehead, then her cheek, then the corner of her mouth. Her skin was warm and unbelievably soft beneath her chapped lips. Hanano closed her eyes, engraving the feeling into her memory, before pulling away.
With one swift movement, she pushed the knife forward.
Nishino barely stirred.
Hanano felt nothing as the blood pooled around the fire dancer's head — the same colour as her clothes; she felt nothing as the warmth soaked through the bandages and tainted her hands in vivid red; she felt nothing as the colour slowly drained from the fire dancer's face, turning her skin ashy and cold; she felt nothing as the final breath escaped her lips, the condensation brushing lightly against her face before fading away; she felt nothing. Nothing but an aching emptiness that chilled her to the bone and squeezed her heart like a vice.
She let out a trembling sigh, her body slumping forward like a puppet with cut strings.
It was done.
Now, all she needed was to wait for death, and see if her efforts had been in vain.
Her half-lidded gaze dropped to the knife, still clutched tightly in her bloodstained hands. It was only a matter of time before the others noticed that her and Nishino had been gone for way too long, before they smelled the telltale stench of fresh blood soaking the floor, before they panicked when they realized the air conditioning had finally shut off. The investigation would be over before it even started when they would find her here, covered in the drying blood of the only person who ever considered her her friend. The trial would be short and to the point — a complete disgrace, unbefitting of a phantom thief. Her execution wouldn't last much longer either, the molten gold dripping down her blistering mouth and sealing the screams inside her throat.
She couldn't be bothered to go through all of it again.
She just wanted this to be over.
Hanano lifted the knife and gingerly pressed it against the side of her throat. She'd done this many times before — she and Ken needed a quick escape to check whether or not their little experiments had broken the time loop, and this was the quickest and easiest death they could grant themselves. It felt different from slitting someone else's throat, but she'd mastered the technique after a lot of trial and error. She barely even registered the pain anymore.
Her gaze lingered towards Nishino a final time. If this worked, she would be gone for good, freed from this endless cycle of death and misery, freed from the hunt, free from the mindless repetition. If it didn't, she would wake up at the beginning of the day and she'd be able to talk to Nishino again, as if nothing had ever happened. No matter what she did, none of it would matter in the end.
The thought should have brought her relief. Still, the sight of Nishino's lifeless corpse next to her and the wet feeling of her blood seeping through the fabric of her pants made something twist deep inside her stomach — a cold, lingering pain that she knew no number of resets would ever manage to dull.
A weak chuckle escaped Hanano's lips.
"In our next life," she whispered to no one, "we'll be foxes."
The sharp blade dragged effortlessly across her throat. Blood gushed out of the wound and into her hands, the bandages doing nothing to stop the never-ending flow.
She felt warm, then cold again. Her body shuddered, then collapsed.
As the knife fell from her hands and her eyes fluttered shut, her mind went back to the first time she had died, to that first trial when she'd killed Manami and Kazutoshi. It all felt so far away now, yet she still remembered Nishino's face as if it was yesterday — she remembered the tears glistening on her cheeks, the hollowness in her fiery eyes, their playful spark extinguished forever, the desperation in her voice as she begged for her to stop, the way her hands clutched the edge of her podium like it was the only thing that kept her standing.
She'd told her she hated her.
Hanano had thought Nishino of all people would understand why she was doing this. She'd been horribly wrong — that was her only regret when she was sent to her execution that day. She'd never wanted to make her friend sad.
She hoped she'd managed to make Nishino happy, this time around.
Hanano woke up to the familiar sight of her bedroom ceiling and the feeling of freezing cold burning her cheeks. Her hand idly reached up to the side of her neck, her fingers hovering where the pain of her slit throat lingered.
She decided to stay in her room for a little longer than usual. It didn't matter anyway — she had no particular plans for this loop, and knowing how much Ken relied on her own initiative, he probably didn't either. If something bad happened, she could always end her life and bring them back to the beginning.
She started to lose track of time when a heavy knock on her door roused her from her lethargy. A familiar voice, bright and cheerful, spilled from the other side of the door, making her heart skip a beat.
"Hananoooo! Open up!"
Slowly, Hanano pushed herself off her bed and slipped her mask over her face. Her hand shook slightly as it reached towards the door.
She opened it.
And there, waiting for her, was Nishino.
The sight of her smile left a taste of ash on her tongue.