Afternoon – Homeroom


    The rest of the school day passed in a haze, but Aori barely paid attention. The words on the blackboard blurred into meaningless scribbles. The teacher’s voice was nothing more than background noise.


    His brother was back.


    The thought weighed on him like a chain around his throat.


    Ren Kazuyuki.


    He hadn’t seen or spoken to him in years, and frankly, he had been fine with that. Their family was already a mess—he had no interest in reconnecting with the one person who had left it in shambles.


    Yet, now, out of nowhere, Ren had returned to Tokyo. And worse, he wanted to meet.


    Why?


    Aori exhaled slowly, leaning back in his chair, arms crossed. His jaw was tight, his grip on his pen threatening to snap it in half. He had spent years pretending Ren didn’t exist. So why now? What did he want?


    He was so lost in thought that he barely noticed the occasional glances from Chiyo.


    She wouldn’t admit it, but she found it odd.


    Aori was always quiet—too prideful to engage in nonsense—but today, there was something different. Normally, he ignored people with an air of superiority. But today? Today, he looked like he was somewhere else entirely.


    And she hated that she noticed.


    Finally, the bell rang, snapping Aori out of his thoughts.


    Desks scraped against the floor, students chattering and gathering their things. The teacher barely dismissed the class before the room became a chaotic mess of movement.


    Aori stood up immediately, not bothering to acknowledge anyone.


    Hayato, however, wasn’t letting him off that easy.


    Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    “You looked dead all day,” Hayato said, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he caught up. “What’s up?”


    “Nothing.”


    “Liar.”


    Aori didn’t reply.


    Hayato sighed. “Fine. Be all mysterious about it.”


    Aori had no intention of explaining, and Hayato seemed to get the message.


    “Alright, then at least let me copy your notes later—”


    “No.”


    “Cold.”


    They reached the lockers, and just as Aori was about to leave, a voice called out behind him.


    “Yo, Prince.”


    Aori stopped, closing his eyes for a second before turning his head slightly.


    Chiyo.


    She was leaning against the lockers, arms crossed, her sharp eyes studying him like she was trying to read through his soul.


    “You looked dead today,” she said bluntly.


    Hayato snorted. “That’s what I said.”


    Aori slammed his locker shut with more force than necessary. “You two should hang out and discuss it, then.”


    He turned to leave.


    “Oi, hold up.”


    He stopped but didn’t turn.


    Chiyo tilted her head, expression unreadable. “Did something happen?”


    Aori exhaled through his nose. “That’s none of your business.”


    Chiyo raised an eyebrow. “Sheesh. Who pissed in your cereal this morning?”


    Aori finally looked at her, his eyes sharp, cold. “Do you enjoy running your mouth about things you don’t understand?”


    Chiyo grinned. “A little.”


    Aori clicked his tongue, walking away without another word.


    Chiyo watched him go, the usual irritation creeping up again. But this time… there was something else.


    Something about the way he looked at her—like she was nothing but an inconvenience—rubbed her the wrong way.


    She had seen a lot of emotions in people’s eyes before. Arrogance, fear, admiration, anger.


    But Aori’s?


    They looked… tired.


    And that bothered her more than she wanted to admit.


    "I''ve been the closest-but-not-so-close person to him, and… yeah. He’s definitely pissed off," Hayato said, stuffing his hands into his pockets.


    “Tch. Annoying,” Chiyo muttered, pushing off the lockers and heading the opposite way.


    "Great, so I’m the one who gets shoved aside without answers," Hayato scoffed.


    ---


    Evening – Downtown Tokyo


    The sun had dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of deep blue and orange. Neon signs flickered to life, and the streets of Tokyo buzzed with life—businessmen hurrying home, couples strolling through the city, groups of friends laughing as they passed by.


    But Aori stood still.


    Outside a quiet café, hands in his pockets, waiting.


    His patience was already thin.


    Then, a voice from behind.


    “Still as broody as ever, huh?”


    Aori turned.


    Standing a few feet away was a man in his early twenties, dressed casually but carrying an air of confidence that bordered on arrogance. His dark hair was slightly messy, and his smirk was just as irritating as Aori remembered.


    “Yo, little bro.”


    Aori’s jaw tightened.


    “…Ren.”


    His older brother grinned. “Glad you still recognize me.”


    Aori stayed silent.


    Ren sighed, stretching his arms lazily. “Man, it’s been a while. What, four years?”


    Aori didn’t answer.


    Ren chuckled. “Still not a talker, huh? That’s fine. I’ll get to the point.”


    He stepped closer.


    “I need a favor.”


    Aori narrowed his eyes. “Not interested.”


    Ren smirked. “Didn’t even hear me out.”


    “Didn’t need to.”


    Ren let out a low whistle. “Damn. You really don’t change.”


    Aori turned to leave, but Ren’s next words stopped him cold.


    “It’s about Dad.”


    Aori’s fingers twitched slightly.


    Ren noticed. His smirk widened.


    “Got your attention now, huh?”


    Aori exhaled sharply, his voice calm but razor-sharp. “What about him?”


    Ren shoved his hands into his pockets, looking up at the city lights. “I’ll tell you… but not here. Let’s go for a walk.”


    Aori didn’t move.


    He wanted to ignore him. To walk away and pretend Ren was nothing more than a stranger in the crowd.


    But he couldn’t.


    He had to know.


    Even if it meant dealing with the brother he never wanted to see again.