Chapter 4

Ren could not remember how he and Onna got to the scene. He blinked and then they were there, forcefully sliding themselves in between the gaps of warm bodies. He could hear Onna to his right, screaming at everyone to give way, to let them get to the boy. He found his hands wading through the dense ocean of shoulders, until the morning air hit his face without obstruction.

In front of him was Takanaga, blood blooming from his head and out into the concrete.

He should have been disturbed by the red ooze he had likely stepped on as it creeped into the surrounding area, but as Onna fearlessly rushed to the boy's side, he could only focus on the student's open, blank eyes.

I know him.

The thought formed in his mind, unbidden. He couldn't explain it, but it was there. And it stayed there until the ambulance came and took the body away. The stains on the ground remained while the teachers attempted to shepherd the rest of the stunned student body into the gymnasium.

It was pure chaos. There were those who were too stunned to move and had to be half-dragged by classmates and staff into the cavernous gym. Others were already inconsolable, wailing unintelligibly in the arms of their friends. And there were those chatting animatedly, already forging their own versions of the why's and the how's. A part of Ren wanted to stay with the latter to help him make sense of the incoherence inside his head. But the staff was tasked to contact the parents, and he could not find enough time to collect what remained of his sane thoughts. Mechanically, he dialed numbers and read out the spiel another teacher had handed out to him.

The incident effectively ended classes for the day (perhaps, even for the week), and there was a definite rush to get every kid home. The thinning crowds was a small comfort to Ren. An hour later, he no longer had a phone receiver stuck to the side of his head and was given a small reprieve when a school janitor gave him a glass of water and told him he could sit for a minute or two.

"You need a moment," the janitor had said bluntly, taking note of his unkempt hair and the haunted look he knew he had in his eyes.

The nagging, incomprehensible thought did not budge from that corner of his brain, and it seemed to be somehow attached to the pit of his stomach because he felt like he was going to throw up if he had swallowed another mouthful of water.

He simply could not make sense of it. How could he know the boy? He knew he could pass the recognition off as him being one of his students in one of the classes he had subbed for. Maybe. But there was something telling him that that was not it. That somewhere, somehow, he had seen Takanaga, and it was not inside a classroom.

There was another smaller, fainter voice fighting for space in his head, and before he could quash it, it unspooled a whole new thread that unravelled and wrapped around his thoughts like a vice.

Enma Ai.

At first he chalked it up to paranoia. After all, the girl had been a constant in his consciousness for some time, and it would not have been unusual for him to start associating everything else with her. But he was sure there was something that kept pulling at his gut. The fact that he could not, for the life of him, figure it out nauseated him.

He rubbed his face with both hands. This was getting ridiculous.

Ren wanted to go to Onna to tell her about it, but he remembered that the nurse got into the ambulance together with the body. He had no one to go to at the moment. Except...

He started. In his mind, he saw her again: the bruises, the burning stare. He quickly got up from the bench he was slumped on and began to make plans.

The lump of dread forming in his stomach grew larger as his thoughts raced and overlapped with one another. It was easy to come up with a conclusion to this, a part of him thought grimly. It was so easy to form connections. But, another part of him piped up, he needed to talk to her first. He had to know if Enma Ai was just slowly making him go insane.

"Ichimoku-sensei?"

He jolted as he felt a squeeze on his shoulder.

"Wanyuudo-kouchou," he rasped as he turned around. The principal had lost the gleam in his eye and was looking intently at Ren. It unnerved him more than it should. "How can I help?"

"I just wanted to make sure you have accounted for all of your students," the old man explained. "We would like the gym to be emptied by five. Reporters have started coming in, you see, and we don't want more trouble."

"Yes. Yes, of course."

"So have you?"

Ren blinked. "Have I what?"

"Have you accounted for all of your students?"

Except one, Ren's mind volunteered, but he nodded. "Yes." He licked his lips nervously. "I had the other staff help me because I had to assist Nurse Hone..." It was a flimsy excuse but Wanyuudo did not push.

"Very well." The old man stared at him a second longer before turning his back to attend to a student who seemed about to faint.

Ren took this distraction as a cue to flee, and before he realized where his feet were taking him, he had already reached the Records Office, the door clicking shut behind him.

It was dark, and he mulled over turning the lights on, but seeing that he was not going to be there for any official purpose, Ren decided that this operation should remain covert. He pulled his mobile phone from his pocket and used the light from the screen to illuminate his way to the drawers.

The metal columns loomed large before him.

He tried to cram all the questions in his head to one side as he focused on what exactly he wanted to accomplish by all of this.

Find her.

The two words repeated clear and mantra-like in his thoughts.

With his heart thudding in his chest, he went straight to a set of drawers, completely forgetting that they could most likely be locked. But as the metal gave in with one strong pull, Ren heaved a heavy sigh of relief and began to dig, hoping against hope that he would know where she was and that he would not get caught looking.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Ren muttered to himself, as he stood, hands in the pockets of his thermal jacket, in front of a dull gray apartment. With at least six broken windows and paint chipping off it like dead skin, the building looked halfway through collapsing.

He took one of his hands out to glance at the crumpled piece of paper in his palm for what seemed to be the fiftieth time. As expected, the address did not magically change. He was where he was supposed to be. He was where Enma Ai was supposed to live.

Ren had gotten information from the files, all right, but it was not a whole lot. Enma Ai's personal information included a home address and the name of a guardian. That was it. If he wasn't sneaking this information out, he would have talked to Wanyuudo about being too lenient with the students he accepted. Then again, when did he care?

That was the question.

Lately, he had found himself actively insisting that he could not and should not give a flying fuck about Enma Ai and all the trouble she mysteriously kept getting into. But the fact that he had to actively insist on not caring meant that he slowly and begrudgingly was. Standing in front of her apartment building was clear evidence of that.

It was chilly out, and Ren had half a mind to walk two blocks to the nearest bus station and just head to Onna's. After all, they did not get the time to regroup after Takanaga's incident a few days ago, and Ren was sure that not talking this out with his only friend would not help his psychological well-being at all. He had been ready to blame the lapses of judgment to overthinking, lack of sleep, and a slight trauma brought about by the string of events that he was unfortunate to have been a part of. But at the back of his mind, he knew dismissing it all would be the wrong move. He had used the same approach with Enma Ai in the beginning, and where had that led him?

There. In front of the oldest building he had ever seen in his life.

"Fuck," was all he could muster as another cold breeze made his skin break into goosebumps. He took a step closer to the building but made no further attempt to go in.

"What are you doing?" He asked himself again, more insistently this time, as though he could pressure himself into admitting a reason. If he was honest with himself, he knew the answer, anyway. He wanted to know what was happening. He wanted to know if Ai was connected to Takanaga and consequentially, the incident on the rooftop. He wanted to know if he was going crazy.

He was pretty certain that Ai wasn't going to answer the last one for him. But if he could get help with the first two, he would have something to go by to help him figure out the third.

So what was he waiting for?

The street light on the side seemed to blink in impatience, so with a huff, he trudged all the way to the front door and pulled.

The sight that greeted him was, if that was possible, bleaker than the sight outside. If the building was covered in shedding gray paint, the interior didn't even have any. It was as though the building owner decided to change his mind halfway through construction.

Overhead was a row of cobwebbed fluorescent lights, blinking in disarray. Ren supposed he should be thankful for them, but the fact that they only showed him how empty and dank the complex was made him somewhat prefer to just feel his way through the hall. He could make out six doors on the ground floor, three on the left and another three on the right. He did not even dare knock on one.

According to the hastily scribbled address in his jacket pocket, Ai's apartment was located on the third floor. And since the place was giving him more creeps than he would like to admit, he wasted no time going up the dusty, creaking stairs to his destination.

Each floor looked the same. When Ren got to the third floor landing, he pretty much knew what to expect. Six doors closed.

Nervous hands once again retrieved the piece of paper from his pocket. 305, it said. Ren trained his eyes on the farther end of the hall. He could see a sliver of light shining below 302 as he walked past. When he was face to face with 305, he felt his agitation double. Was Ai even home? Was her guardian? He entertained the possibility of them moving away the day of the incident and hated himself for it. He felt like an idiot for not thinking things through.

But still, thinking was not going to change the fact that he was standing in front of what was supposed to be Ai's apartment. In any case, if they had moved, then no one would have to know that he was there. If they hadn't, then he would get the chance to have his questions answered.

So he knocked. Once. Twice. The third, louder.

He was met with what seemed like an hour of silence before he could hear shuffling from the inside. The door budged, then inched sideways by a fraction.

Ren had looked her in the eye so many times but the vibrant crimson never failed to startle him.

"Hi," he croaked. He cleared his throat before continuing. "I mean, good evening, Enma-san."

She observed him as though she had been expecting him and was a bit miffed that he was late. "Good evening," she replied curtly.

"I uh. I'm um... is your guardian there?" Ren mentally kicked himself for sounding so unprepared. He was, of course, but nobody else should know that.

"Yes."

"Well, right. Great. I mean, I'd like to talk to her. And to you. If you're free. If that's okay."

Ren could feel his ribs straining to contain his heart as he waited for her reply.

It was expected of her to shut the door on his face. It was almost eight, and he had dropped by unannounced. But just like any expectation he had set involving Enma Ai, it was proven wrong yet again as she pushed the sliding door away and motioned for him to come in.

He tried to move as quietly as he could, shuffling out of his trainers and depositing his thermal jacket by the door. The small foyer was lighted by a single wall lamp. The rest of the house was bathed in darkness. The silhouette of the low dining table on his left was the only thing Ren could make out. His hands lifted from his sides to touch the wooden walls. The air smelled slightly of grass and cherry syrup.

There was a click, then there was more light. Ren blinked a few times to let his pupils adjust. Now that he could see everything, it was easier to notice that the house was empty.

"Where's your guardian?"

"My grandmother is in her room," Ai replied. She motioned again for him to take a seat on one of the frayed green pillows on the floor.

"Won't you tell her I'm here?

"She already knows." Ren believed her, and that creeped him out more than anything he had experienced that night.

His eyes trailed over the small apartment: the refrigerator and kitchen sink in front of him, the three wooden doors to his right, and the dusty television on top of an antique cabinet to his left. The place was almost bare, the still quiet pressing against him from every side. Ai was right in front of him but he felt as though he was alone.

"Would you like some tea?" she offered.

"Yes, yes please." She turned away and busied herself in the tiny kitchen. Ren tried to make himself comfortable, but he couldn't. He had a gnawing suspicion he was being watched. Alone but watched. His lack of sense was scaring him, too. "Is your grandma awake?"

"Yes." Ai's voice could be barely heard in the silence.

"Well, I think it would be better if I could talk to her, meet her."

"What for?"

"School."

The clinking of glasses did not stop. "She's busy right now."

"Doing what?"

"Sewing."

"Oh I see." Ren's eyes fell on the darkness behind the closed doors. He wondered how an old woman can sew without the lights on. "I'm sorry to intrude upon you like this. I should have brought dinner or some ricecakes."

"It's all right. We don't mind visitors once in a while." Ai brought a metal tray carrying a teapot and two teacups. With the movements of someone who had done it her entire life, she served him his share.

"Thanks."

Awkward couldn't even begin to describe the first few minutes he spent sitting on the floor of Ai's apartment. His mind could only come up with the word "unsettling", and even that seemed insufficient. It was unnerving how composed she was at his sudden appearance. She was not fazed by his mention of school at all. Ren, at that point, was at a loss.

Seconds ticked by. She kept her gaze at him steady, even as she calmly drank her tea. Ren tried to swallow his, but his throat had closed off.

"So," he supplanted, wanting to hear anything apart from the quiet. "I didn't get the chance to check up on you. Did you..." He let his eyes wander all over her face to finish his sentence.

Ai's lips pursed. "I'm fine."

"Okay. Did you tell your-"

"Nobody else needs to be told."

Ren snuck a glance at the closed doors again. "All right."

More silence. He cleared his throat once more.

"I'm uh, guessing you know. About what happened."

Ai's eyebrow slightly raised at this. "I'm not sure I know what you mean."

"I meant at school." Ren did not want to recount the gruesome events, but the way Ai was poised to listen left him no choice. "Takanaga...a third year. He, uh, he had an accident."

"I see."

"He fell from the rooftop."

"Oh." It was almost imperceptible how Ai's hands clutched tighter at her cup. "That's terrible."

Ren put his tea down. "Yes, yes it is. We had to cancel classes for a few days. So I guess you didn't miss anything. I mean, apart from the lessons you..." he trailed off, inwardly kicking himself for sounding like a tactless idiot. "What I meant was-"

"I know what you meant." She cut him off.

She settled her empty cup down on the table and reached for the pot.

"More tea?"

"No thank you." Ren had settled for fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. He stole a look at her as she poured herself another cup, her pale frame a stark contrast to the near darkness that surrounded her. "When do you plan on going back to school?"

There was a sigh before she replied. "I'm not coming back."

A beat of silence. "What?"

"I'm not coming back." Her gaze went back to him, quietly assessing the reactions on his face. "I've already informed Wanyuudo-kouchou, and he has allowed it."

"What?"

Ren knew that one-word questions were not exactly encouraging discourse, but the shock had put a stopper to his thoughts.

"My grandmother is too sick to be left alone," Ai elaborated. "I will watch over her. I will continue my studies here."

"Who will teach you?"

"I will teach myself."

"You can't do that."

The impatience was visible in her furrowed brow. "I can read. I can write. Surely, those two together will greatly aid in my pursuit."

Ren took note of how the fourteen-year-old just used the word "pursuit" in a sentence. "Yes, but that's what school is for. You should really think about-"

"I have thought about it ."

"Then think about it again-"

"Why do you care?"

Ren was jolted out of his thoughts. "E-excuse me?"

The steam from Ai's cup framed her small face. "Why do you care?"

Ren opened his mouth and then closed it. Good question.

It was not difficult to make up a teacher sob story about him caring because it was his sole duty to, that he was the vanguard of his students' education. But that was bullshit, and they both knew that.

Somehow Ren was aware that he could not lie to Ai. That there was something in their unspoken agreement that made him unable to say anything he did not mean. It was weird, and it cemented his conviction that his sanity was a centimeter away from the ledge.

"I just...I just don't think you should." He rubbed at one eye, tiredly. "You're young. You need to be in school."

Ai hummed, unconvinced. "I know you've seen me."

Ren tried to ask what she meant, but when her eyes fell to a disappearing bruise on her wrist, he understood. "I have."

"Do you still think I should be there?"

She had a valid point.

"Well. I just think that... with all the things going on, maybe... Maybe things will get better."

"A student just died."

"And that means everyone is on alert." Nobody can hurt you; not when everyone's watching, not when I'm watching - he continued in his head. Ai seemed to read his thoughts as she let him trail off.

They shared a moment of heavy silence, letting what was unsaid seep in between them. Ai continued to watch him, his fingers now tracing abstract patterns on the scratched wooden table. He could not look away from her, too, particularly transfixed on a strand of jet black hair stuck on a frail collarbone.

Then she stood up, her movements slow and sure. "It's late, Sensei."

He blinked at her implicit dismissal. "Oh. Okay. Of course." It seemed their conversation was over, and there was nothing else left to be said.

Hurriedly, he stood up and let her lead him to the door. It took no more than five seconds for him to put his shoes back on, grab his jacket, and give her a quick bow before Ai shut the door in his face. He was alone again in the hallway.

Ren had resigned himself to the fact that it was the last time he was going to see her.

The next morning, with the stubble on his face growing unchecked and his necktie lying lethargically loose around his neck, he went to work.

He had hardly slept and was greatly aware of the hours that ticked by and the light that slowly creeped out from his window as the sun rose. He had expected not to sleep, of course, but expecting it versus being prepared for it were two very different things. He had forced his brain not to overthink the previous night's events and reminded himself that he was neither an administrator nor a cop to give such a shit about everything and everyone. But at that point, he was getting used to his own mind betraying him, and he spent the rest of the night twisting under the sheets in desperation.

To get out of bed, he had to re-assert to himself that he had officially run out of fucks to give. He did what he could. That was that. End of story. His intestines felt like they were made of lead, sure, but he chalked that up to the fact that he couldn't remember the last time he ate something solid. So Ren's head was light with nausea as his feet trudged the familiar path to school that day.

He comforted himself with the knowledge that he wasn't the only one feeling like crap. After all, it was still not business as usual for the students and staff, thanks to the handful of barely inconspicuous policemen roaming the campus and ambushing people for statements and often differing versions of the gruesome incident. The students were jumpy, the teachers anxious. They made it harder for anyone to notice that Ren was not fully functioning since they were, at least outwardly, doing equally as bad.

As he neared his classroom, he shifted his thoughts to Onna and decided that he was going to see the nurse right after that period. He hadn't had the chance to ask her how she had been in the midst of the panic, and he was, on some level that he refused to acknowledge, also intrigued about whether she could give him more information about what happened in the hospital.

With his remaining strength, Ren slid the classroom door open and began to drawl out a good morning when his gaze fell on something that stopped him short.

Crimson eyes.

"Good morning, Sensei," he groggily registered the rest of his class beat him to the customary greeting. They shuffled back to their seats, but Ren could only focus on one face.

Enma Ai was back in his classroom, in her assigned seat, looking at him unflinchingly like she did last night.

Ren fought to recover from the shock and hid his disconcertment under the guise of an extremely difficult pop quiz. For the rest of the period, he tried to ignore the barrage of questions he itched to ask her and attempted to relish the defeated groans of her classmates as they solved equations Ren had pulled out of his ass at the last minute. He kept those queries lined up in his head for an hour and a half, until the bell rang.

The words rushed out of his mouth before he could reconsider and summoned Ai to his table.

"I'd like to talk about your absences," he said a bit too loudly, ensuring her passing classmates could hear. She acquiesced but stayed seated as the rest of the class gathered their things and left with mumbled goodbyes. She still didn't stand up from her chair and waited for him to come to her.

He moved forward a few steps and stopped two chairs away. "So. I suppose you changed your mind."

"I suppose."

"What made you—"

"It doesn't matter."

"It does to me," cut Ren, before fully realizing his words.

Ai's head slightly tilted in question.

"I mean," he recovered, "I am your teacher. I am responsible for you. In some ways."

"You are not responsible for anyone," she nearly scoffed. "You never liked to be."

Ren caught himself this time, biting down assent. "That is irrelevant," he digressed. "We're talking about you right now."

"Are we?" she challenged. "It's all right, you know. You are not expected to save me."

Ren's heart dropped as though she caught him in a trap. "I don't —"

"I can take care of myself. Always have."

She finally stood up, and with quiet decisiveness, hauled her bag up the floor. He watched her slowly make her way to the door, her shoes making little taps on the linoleum. Ren dropped his gaze. He felt shame inch up his chest. Was he really trying to save her?

Ridiculous, he automatically thought. Ichimoku Ren was no one's hero.

He had turned away when he heard her voice.

"I still don't think I should be here," she said from the door.

"Well," Ren replied with his back to her, "where else should you be?"

After that little talk, Ren was too preoccupied to remember his earlier decision to visit the nurse, and it only came to him when he was on his way out the faculty room after his last class. Making a slight detour, he headed towards the clinic instead, hoping that Onna didn't punch out early like she always did.

He didn't bother knocking when he got there and found the woman staring blankly at the wall when he entered.

"Hey," Ren greeted, concerned. Onna had to blink twice before her brain could catch up with her senses.

"Hey yourself," she joked feebly. "What's up?"

"I should ask you that." He flopped down the chair in front of her desk with a loud exhale. "Jeez, is it me or are the days here getting even longer than I remember?"

She smiled weakly. "Tell me about it. I feel like I've been sitting here for a hundred years."

"Then maybe you should put your clock up on that wall instead," he gestured at the same spot Onna had been staring at. "At least you would know just how long you'd been catatonic."

"Smartass," she mumbled, brushing strands of hair away from her face. He could see the dark circles under her eyes more clearly then. "Now tell me what you want so I can get out of here."

"What I want is for us to get out of here." He grinned.

With an eagerness that belied her fatigue, she scooped up all of her things and followed him to the door.

They picked a cafe near a shopping center. Both of them usually preferred somewhere quiet, but Ren supposed Onna had needed some noise to drown the voices in her head, too. He watched as she stirred her cappuccino mindlessly, the leaf patterns on the froth swirling into chaos.

"Tough week," he piped up, leaning on the glass pane on his right. He was observing the passersby with a detached gaze and couldn't help but wonder what kind of problems they went home to.

"Far from what I signed up for," sighed Onna. "Like, come on. I'm a fucking high school nurse. I should be dealing with headaches and fake illnesses, not…" she trailed off, waving her hands to make Ren fill in the blanks.

"I kind of expected it," he said, surprising Onna. "It is high school. Isn't it supposed to be a… jungle or something?"

"I'd prefer an actual jungle, thank you very much." She finally took a sip of her coffee. "If you could have seen…" she trailed off again, fixing her gaze on Ren's untouched iced tea. "If you were there…"

"I could have seen what?" Ren hid his increased attention with a disinterested tone. "Did something happen?"

Onna seemed to snap out of her trance. "You mean apart from a kid dying?"

"You know what I mean."

She pursed her lips. Ren adjusted in his seat.

"Tell me."

"I'm going to sound crazy."

"Just tell me."

"There's really nothing to tell," she said, exasperated. Her fingers traced her mouth. "I just couldn't, you know, get his face out of my head."

The image of Takanaga lying spread-eagled on the ground flashed in Ren's mind.

"That doesn't sound crazy," assured Ren.

"No," Onna shook her head. "But I'd sound crazy if I told you…"

"Told me what?" Ren pressed.

"If I told you that he looked like he knew."

He swallowed. "Knew what?"

"That he was going to die," breathed Onna.

Hours later, when he was already alone in his house, Ren still had Onna's statement embedded in his system. The lead in his insides had returned, even heavier than before, and the thought that he buried ever since the day of the accident buoyed back into his consciousness. Should he have told Onna that he felt like he was going crazy, too? Should he have told her that he felt connected to Takanaga somehow? Would she believe him?

He stretched his legs on the couch, his arms nursing a sweating bottle of Sapporo. The television buzzed and blinked in his periphery, but vestiges of his attention floated, tendril-like, in every direction, sliding off one grim thought to the next.

At this rate, Ren was convinced he would be forced to take a sabbatical four years earlier than scheduled. With dread spreading to his limbs, he fell into uneasy sleep.

His neck ached the next day, and he kept on rubbing it until he reached the faculty room. There was a strange hum going around the recently subdued quarters. He noted that at one end of the room, Wanyuudo-kouchou was on the phone with an intent look on his face. Some of his colleagues were huddled in a corner, muttering amongst themselves while throwing side glances at the other scattered faculty.

When he reached his desk, he put down his briefcase and sneaked a glance at the nearest cubicle. The history teacher, Miyamoto-Sensei, was swiftly texting on her phone.

"Ohayou," he whispered at her. She looked at him without raising her head.

"Ohayou."

Ren tilted his head towards the others. "What's happening?"

Miyamoto's attention was already back on her phone. "There's another one," she mumbled.

"Another one of what?"

She sighed, obviously impatient with his inane questions. "Another student." She kept on texting. "Mori."

The taps of her long nails on the phone screen punctuated the silence as Ren tried to digest what she could have meant. *No,* he thought desperately. *It's not that.*

"I don't think I get what you mean." The words sounded like a lie to Ren, but he said them, anyway.

Miyamoto finally put her phone down, her short hair bobbing as she raised her face. "There's been another accident. Mori got run over by a car early this morning. He's dead, too."

A/N: I don't know if I'm making sense anymore. Let me know what you think.