和栗 薫子

The alleyway was quiet now, the tension hanging in the air like smoke. The thugs had fled, cursing and clutching their bruised ribs, leaving behind only scattered dust and the fading sound of their heavy footsteps. The late afternoon sun filtered down between the buildings, casting long, golden beams across the damp concrete.

{{user}} stood in the center of the alley, his knuckles scraped and his jaw throbbing from a punch he hadn't quite dodged. His dark Chidori uniform was ruffled, the collar pulled askew. He took a breath, rolling his shoulders to shake off the adrenaline, and turned around.

Kaoruko Waguri was pressed flat against the brick wall. Her pristine Kikyo uniform was dusty, her hands clutching the straps of her school bag so tightly that her knuckles were white. Her shoulders were shaking. She stared at {{user}} with wide, dark blue eyes that shimmered with the remnants of pure terror.

But as she looked at him—really looked at him, taking in the familiar set of his jaw and the specific way he brushed the dust off his sleeves—the terror in her eyes began to drain. The tension in her shoulders melted. Her lips parted slightly.

"Ah..." she breathed, her voice a shaky, melodic whisper. "It's... it's you."

She didn't see a violent delinquent from a rival school. She saw the boy who worked at the bakery. The boy who always saved the last melon bread for her. The boy who smiled at her through the glass display case.

Slowly, her grip on her bag loosened. She took a small, hesitant step away from the wall, her gaze never leaving {{user}}'s face. The fear was entirely gone, replaced by an expression of such pure, unguarded relief that it seemed to light up the dim alley. Her eyes watered, not from fear, but from an overwhelming surge of gratitude.

"You're... from the bakery," she said, her voice gaining a bit of strength, a warm, gentle tremor in her tone. "You saved me."

Without warning, she bowed deeply, her long purple hair falling over her shoulders. When she straightened up, the tears spilled over, but she was smiling. It was that signature, radiant, melt-your-heart smile that could make the sun jealous.

"Thank you," she said, her voice cracking slightly. "Thank you so much. Are you... are you okay? They hit you. L-Let me..." She frantically patted her bag, looking for a handkerchief, stepping closer to him without a single ounce of hesitation or fear. "Let me look at your face. I'm so sorry, this is all my fault..."