Part 1 — A Place That Doesn't Ask Questions
Haruto kept running.
His breath broke in his chest, the night air burning his lungs as streetlights passed above him.
"I'm sorry…" he whispered.
"I'm sorry for lying to you, Big Brother."
His voice cracked.
"I was crying," he said quietly. "I really was."
He slowed when the familiar wooden sign came into view.
Warm light spilled onto the street as he pushed the door open.
A small chime rang.
Behind the counter, Yuji looked up.
Haruto lowered his head slightly.
"…Yuji-san."
Yuji paused, eyes settling on him for a second longer than usual.
"You're out late," Yuji said.
"I was hungry," Haruto replied.
Yuji didn't question it.
"Sit."
Haruto took a seat near the wall.
From the back of the restaurant, footsteps approached.
"…Haruto?"
Miri stopped when she saw him.
"You look awful," she said honestly, then softened her tone. "Did something happen?"
Haruto stared at the table.
"…Nothing."
Miri didn't push. She leaned against the counter instead, watching him quietly.
Yuji set a bowl down in front of him.
"Eat first," he said.
Haruto picked up the spoon.
The warmth seeped slowly into his hands.
For the first time since leaving home, his shoulders dropped—just a little.
This place was the same.
And for now… that was enough.
Yuji watched Haruto eat in silence for a while.
Then he spoke, voice low and steady.
"This morning," Yuji said, "I saw Ayame."
Haruto's spoon paused.
"She was carrying you on her back," Yuji continued. "You were bleeding."
Haruto didn't look up.
Yuji turned fully toward him now.
"What happened?"
Haruto stared at the bowl, appetite suddenly gone.
"…I don't know," he said after a moment.
Miri straightened slightly.
"You don't know?" she asked.
Haruto shook his head slowly.
"My head hurts. Things feel mixed up."
Yuji didn't interrupt.
"All I remember," Haruto went on, voice quiet, "is running… then falling. Ayame was there. She kept telling me to hold on."
His grip tightened around the spoon.
"She shouldn't have carried me," he muttered. "She got hurt because of me."
Yuji exhaled slowly.
"That girl," he said, "has always been stubborn."
Miri crossed her arms.
"She wouldn't leave you. Not ever."
Haruto swallowed.
"…I know."
Yuji leaned his elbows on the counter.
"Hunters were seen nearby today," he said carefully. "More than usual."
Haruto's eyes flickered.
"You sensed something, didn't you?" Yuji asked.
Haruto didn't answer right away.
"…It felt like before," he said finally. "Four years ago."
The room went still.
Miri glanced at her father.
"That's not good," she murmured.
Yuji's gaze hardened—not with anger, but with concern.
"Finish eating," he said. "After that, we'll talk."
Haruto nodded faintly.
But the heaviness in his chest didn't ease.
Whatever followed him from the past…
it hadn't let go yet.
Yuji watched Haruto for a long moment, then spoke.
"Why did you even come here?" Yuji asked.
"You should've stayed home."
Haruto's jaw tightened.