The walk to school was a haze of half-formed nightmares.
Noah's legs moved on autopilot through streets he'd traversed a thousand times, but every shadow between buildings seemed to breathe. Every rustling leaf sounded like a whisper. Finally found you. The words looped in his skull, a skipping record of dread.
He didn't notice the footsteps fall into rhythm behind him.
"Yo, Noah!"
A hand clamped down on his shoulder. He yelped, spinning so fast his bag nearly slapped his own face.
Haruto Senpai stood there, grinning. The third-year's uniform was perfectly pressed, his tie loosened just enough to look effortlessly cool. "Jumpier than usual. Rough night?"
Noah forced a laugh that came out strangled. "You could say that."
They fell into step together. Haruto had been his mentor since middle school—taught him how to dodge bullies, which teachers to avoid, how to steal extra servings from the cafeteria without getting caught. The older boy's presence was a balm, a scrap of normalcy in a morning that felt anything but.
"You look like crap," Haruto observed cheerfully, hands in his pockets. "Girl problems? Or—" He lowered his voice conspiratorially. "—did you finally watch that horror movie I recommended?"
If only you knew. "Just... weird dreams."
"Ah, the subconscious." Haruto's smile widened, but something about it seemed... off. Sharper. "They tell us what we really fear, don't they? What we're running from."
Noah glanced at him. For a heartbeat, Haruto's expression was unreadable. Then it was just his usual easygoing grin again.
"I guess."
They talked about nothing—upcoming exams, the new ramen shop by the station, whether the chemistry teacher's toupee was getting more obvious. It was mundane. Comforting. Noah almost forgot the tremor in his hands.
Almost.
The traffic light ahead flickered from green to red. The pedestrian crossing sign glowed a steady, warning red.
Haruto kept walking.
Noah grabbed his sleeve. "Senpai, the light—"
"Relax." Haruto didn't stop. "It's early. No one's—"
The truck appeared around the corner like a bullet.
It wasn't speeding. It was flying, engine screaming, tires smoking as the driver lost control. The sound was a metal roar that drowned out everything.
Noah froze.
Haruto's hand shot out—not to pull him back, but to push.
The world tilted. Noah's balance shattered. He was falling forward, into the street, into the path of the oncoming death, and as he twisted, he saw—
Haruto's smile.
That same devilish smile from his dream. The one that peeled back from shadows like a wound splitting open.
Haruto's lips moved, and the words cut through the chaos as clearly as if they'd been whispered directly into Noah's skull:
"I told you I was going to find you."
Impact.
The truck didn't slow. There was a sickening, wet crunch, the sound of a watermelon dropped from a great height. Noah's body folded around the grille, bones splintering instantly. The momentum carried him forward, tossing him like a rag doll. He hit the pavement twelve feet away and didn't bounce.
He burst.
Blood sprayed in a crimson halo. Skull fragments and brain matter painted the white crosswalk lines. One arm detached at the shoulder, rolling to a stop at Haruto's feet. The senior didn't flinch. He stood on the curb, hands still in his pockets, watching.
The truck screeched to a halt. The driver stumbled out, screaming.
Bystanders erupted into chaos. Someone vomited. A woman's shriek tore the morning apart.
Haruto bent down and picked up Noah's severed hand. The fingers were still curled in a loose fist. He pried them open, revealing the palm.
A violet sigil glowed there, faint but unmistakable. The mark of a sovereign.
"Found you," Haruto murmured again, his voice no longer human. The smile remained as he turned and walked away, disappearing into the gathering crowd while sirens wailed in the distance.
Behind him, Noah's crushed torso twitched once. Twice.
The sigil on his mangled palm pulsed.
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