~ Third Person Pov ~
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Keiji's eyes drifted to the crushed flowers, the grass flattened beneath the struggle, the blood staining Sekai's porch steps...
He didn't say it out loud, but the thought curled like smoke through his mind; 'They came here to hurt people. And they almost did. They would've, if I hadn't shown up.'
He had hated that it wasn't just an unusual story anymore.
'Just how many more of these bastards were still out there?'
"...Not enough." he mumbled, almost to himself.
Then he turned toward Sekai. "I'll stay until the police get here... Make sure nothing else happens." His voice was steady again, calm—but inside, the storm hadn't passed. More so it had just learned how to hold its breath.
"Unless, you'd rather I leave..."
Sekai shook her head almost immediately, her grip on the phone tightening as if the thought alone unsettled her.
"No..." she said, voice small, but firm. "Please. Please, stay..."
There was no hesitation, no polite dismissal either. Just a raw, simple need—one that Keiji couldn't ignore, even if a part of him wanted to. Yet, at the back of his mind, he wanted to leave. This whole situation forced him to remember those women he'd saved a few weeks ago, and it still haunted him.
With reluctance, he gave a slight nod, settling his weight against the porch railing.
Sekai seemed to exhale at that, her shoulders slumping as though a part of her she hadn't even realized was braced finally let go. She turned away, speaking into the phone in low, hurried tones, giving their location, explaining haltingly what had happened. Every so often, her eyes flicked back to him—as if just to make sure he was still there.
Keiji didn't blame her.
He crossed his arms loosely over his chest, the porch railing cool against his back. His fingers itched—still stained with blood he hadn't had time to wash off—but he forced himself still, his gaze fixed not on Sekai, not on her mother.
Behind him, he could hear Sekai's mother shifting, the creak of wood under tentative movements. He didn't turn around. A part of him knew that if he looked—if he met her eyes—he would probably see the gratitude there, the apology for having needed saving at all.
And today, Keiji wasn't sure he could carry any more of that weight on him. He was sure that in both their minds, he was nothing short of a protector. At first glance, that wasn't a bad thing. But, he wasn't that good of a person, nor was he some kind of paragon...
Minutes dragged by. Somewhere in the distance, sirens began to wail, growing louder with each heartbeat. Relief should have come with the sound—but instead, Keiji only felt a heavier weight settle in his chest.
'You did what you had to do...' He thought, but he also knew that, it wasn't enough.
When Sekai finished the call, she hovered near him, close but silent. Like she didn't know what to say—or maybe understood that nothing really needed to be said.
They stood like that together, suspended between one breath and the next, until the flashing red and blue lights finally cut around the corner...
...
The police arrived in a blur of noise and ordered urgency. Officers came out from their vehicles with the kind of rehearsed efficiency, something that came from answering too many calls like this one... Their voices were loud, breaking the quiet that had settled over the area.
Keiji straightened but didn't move from where he leaned, allowing the officers to take in the scene. Blood, battered bodies, Sekai pale and wide-eyed, her mother clutching a blanket around her thin shoulders.
One officer—a woman, mid-thirties maybe, with sharp eyes and a steady gait—approached Keiji first. She looked him up and down, lingering on the blood staining his hands and shirt, then glanced at the two unconscious men on the ground.
"You the one who stopped them?" she asked, voice clipped but not unkind.
Keiji nodded once.
"Are you armed?"
"No." he answered simply.
Her eyes widened, but she quickly gave a short nod of approval... She then glanced towards the two men, and thought to herself, 'No weapon? Yet he still handled them both? Not just that, he probably did better than most trained officers could've done...' She glanced back towards him. She didn't ask any more than she had to after.
Maybe she recognized the signs: someone who'd been forced to act because there was no other choice.
Behind her, another officer was crouching to check the attackers, securing them with zip ties when he was sure they weren't a further threat. Sekai spoke in low tones to a third officer, explaining what had happened as best she could, her words tumbling over each other when she got to the part about Keiji intervening.
Through it all, Keiji remained still, answering only when spoken to, giving just the necessary facts.
It didn't escape him that Sekai kept glancing his way. Even as she gave her statement.
He didn't blame her.
It was hard to let go of a lifeline when you were still half drowning.
Eventually, after what felt like hours compressed into minutes, one of the officers approached him again. This time, the questions were more formal—name, relationship to the victims, recounting the order of events. Keiji gave them enough to satisfy, but not so much that it painted him as anything more than what he was: a passerby, someone who got involved because he couldn't stand by.
When they finally let him step aside, Sekai was there, waiting...
"You're hurt." she said quietly, her eyes darting to the scrapes and bruises that had begun to darken on his arms.
"It's, nothing." Keiji replied. And it wasn't exactly a lie. At least, not compared to the wounds she couldn't see. Sekai had hesitated for a second, then reached out, brushing her fingers lightly against his sleeve... It was a small touch, a bit hesitant but certainly real.
"Thank you... again." she said, and this time her voice hadn't cracked up. It was, normal. Full of something deeper than just typical gratitude. Something like, trust. Keiji swallowed down the words that rose up instinctively—denials, deflections, the usual armor he wore—and simply gave a small nod. As the paramedics began tending to her mother and escorting the two attackers into the back of police cruisers, Keiji finally let his gaze drift upward...
"I think, it's best we headed inside... Plus, I haven't eaten anything since."
Sekai caught the unfinished thought and nodded. "Yeah... o-okay."
They all went inside, and Sekai disappeared briefly into the kitchen, her hands shaking a little as she pulled open drawers, looking for something—maybe to make tea, maybe just to have something to do. Keiji stayed where he was, standing awkwardly in the entryway, not wanting to dirty the house more than he already had...
His stomach twisted—not from hunger, but from a hollow ache deeper than that. He wasn't sure if it was guilt, or rage, or simply the aftershock of violence refusing to settle.
Sekai returned a moment later, clutching two mugs in her hands. She offered him one wordlessly.
Hot tea. Instant, probably, but the steam curled up anyway, fogging the air between them. Keiji took it with careful fingers, feeling the ceramic burn pleasantly against his palms.
They stood there in silence for a while, sipping from their cups, neither quite looking at the other. Outside, the flashing lights faded as the last of the cruisers pulled away. The street fell back into an uneasy stillness.
"I'm, sorry." Sekai said suddenly, her voice cutting into the quiet like a knife made of paper. Fragile, but sharp enough to hurt.
"For what?" Keiji asked, genuinely confused.
"For... all of this." She gestured vaguely at the world around them. "You shouldn't have had to... you know..."
Keiji exhaled slowly, setting the tea down on the nearest table. He rubbed his face with one hand, feeling the dried blood crack against his knuckles.
"You didn't make them come here, either." he said, his tone low but firm. "And if it wasn't me... it would've been worse. For you. For your mom." She bit her lip, hard enough that he saw the mark of her teeth. Then she nodded, once. Like she was trying to make herself believe it.
Keiji stepped closer, hesitated, then placed a hand gently on her shoulder.
"Don't get it twisted... I'm not some kind of hero, Sekai." He said, voice quieter now. "I'm just, someone close who just happened to be here; at the right place, and at the right time."
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When he had said that. It felt like something in her broke. 'Why the hell does it feel like he's, distancinghimself from us... From me?'
'It's, not fair...' she thought. It wasn't fair for him to just push himself so far away, like everything he'd done tonight was some random accident. Like he wasn't already carrying so much weight on his back he barely seemed to realize he was dragging it behind him...
He stopped. Exhaling... "Listen, I think it'd be best for me to go for the time being; Plus, I've got something to take care of too... You and your mother need the time to figure this out and settle for a while, an event like this takes a bit of time to heal." He then began to walk away...
But, he turned around and showed a small smile, "Oh... and a word of advice, tighten your security. A place this big needs reliable security."
...
Sekai's throat closed up as she watched him move toward the door, his steps deliberate but weighed down, like he was forcing himself not to look back. She gripped the mug tighter against her chest, the warmth of it the only thing keeping her from reaching out after him.
'No...' she thought bitterly. 'Don't do this. Don't just... walk away like it's nothing!'
But the words caught somewhere between her heart and her mouth, and all she could do was stand there, rooted to the spot, as he put more and more distance between them.
Sekai swallowed hard against the lump forming in her throat. She wanted to say something, anything to make him stay—to make him understand he didn't have to carry everything alone. But by the time she found her voice, the door had already swung closed behind him, leaving only a faint whisper of cold air where he had been...
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After some time, Sekai's mother came to her daughter... sitting beside her.
Sekai didn't react at first—her body was rigid, her hands clenched so tightly around her mug that the ceramic creaked under the pressure. Her mother said nothing for a moment, only reaching out with slow, careful movements, as if afraid that if she moved too quickly, Sekai might shatter like glass.
The couch dipped slightly as her mother sat down beside her. The blanket around her shoulders slid a little, and without thinking, Sekai adjusted it for her—small, mechanical movements, her mind miles away chasing after the boy who had just left.
For a long while, they just sat there in silence, the only sounds the soft ticking of the clock and the faint hum of the heater. Then, finally, her mother spoke—her voice was thin, and raspy but steady enough to break the heavy fog hanging over them.
"He saved us..." she said simply, her eyes reflecting something heavy. Gratitude. Sadness. Something deeper, harder to name. "That boy... he didn't have to. But he did."
Sekai nodded stiffly, her throat too tight to trust with words. She stared at the cooling tea in her lap.
Her mother leaned in a little, reaching out to gently cover Sekai's trembling hands with her own. Her touch was light, almost hesitant, as if she could feel the storm still raging inside her daughter's chest.
"You... care about him..." she said softly, not as a question, but as a fact. She had never seen her daughter so emotionally broken, and stifled before.
She pushed even further... "How much do you love him?"
"I..." Sekai started, but her voice broke into almost a whimper.
She swallowed hard, tried again. "I don't know how to explain it..." she whispered. "It's not... I know it's not just a crush. It's not something stupid or shallow." Her fingers tightened around the mug until she thought it might crack. "When he's hurt, It felt as if I could feel it... When he pushed me away, I still wanted to be there, like he was for me. Even when he acted like he doesn't need anyone... I know he does. Maybe not in the way he even realizes, but..."
She blinked rapidly, her chest aching with every word.
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"I love him... so much, that it hurts."
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"DAMN IT!!!!" Ayano shouted.
BOOM!
The tree that stood beside him collapsed. Splinters exploded outward as the tree cracked at its base, the sound splitting the quiet night like a gunshot. Ayano stood there, chest heaving, fists still trembling with the force he hadn't been able to hold back.
He stared at the wreckage in front of him—the ruined trunk, the crushed earth—and for a moment, all he could do was breathe through his teeth.
'What the hell was wrong with me...?'
He had walked away because he thought it was the right thing to do... Because getting too close, letting anyone actually lean on him, trust him—it felt, dangerous. Like somehow, eventually, he'd only end up hurting them worse... Ayano now realized that he didn't have the liberty have much people around him. He was now different. No matter how much he didn't want to accept that fact. He wasn't a normal human, and dangerous people were actively looking for him to do who knows what.
'I'll just text Sekai that I'm sorry. I feel like a complete asshole...' He looked to the side. 'But... Maybe, I can do a bit more good... It's time I check out that abominable casino.'
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END