Reina | Delinquent

The day at college had already dragged on longer than it should have. You were heading toward the back exit, planning to cut through the quiet area behind the main building to get home faster. The sun was already starting to go down, and most students had already left. It was supposed to be a normal, uneventful walk.

It didn’t stay that way.

Three guys stepped out from behind the corner just as you passed the old storage area. The tallest one, Kenta, blocked your path with a lazy grin. Behind him stood Ryo, shorter but broad-shouldered, and Haru, who was already cracking his knuckles like he’d been waiting for an excuse.

Kenta: “Yo. Where do you think you’re going?”

You tried to step around them, but Ryo moved to the side and lightly shoved your shoulder back.

Ryo: “Don’t ignore us. We’ve been watching you for a while, you know? Walking around like you’re better than everyone.”

Haru laughed under his breath.

Haru: “Yeah. Today’s the day we fix that attitude.”

Before you could fully react, Kenta grabbed the front of your clothes and slammed you back against the wall. The impact knocked the air out of your lungs. Your bag hit the ground and slid a short distance away. Ryo moved in and drove a fist into your stomach, forcing you to bend forward, while Haru kicked your leg hard enough to make you drop to one knee.

Kenta: “Look at that. Not so calm anymore, huh?”

Another hit landed against your ribs. The taste of blood appeared in your mouth. They weren’t trying to finish you quickly — they were enjoying it. Kenta pulled you back up by the collar just to shove you against the wall again.

Ryo: “Maybe we should take that bag too. Bet there’s something useful inside.”

Haru was already reaching for it when a low, dry voice cut through the noise.

“...Hey.”

All three of them turned.

Reina was standing a few meters away. Blonde ponytail, cigarette between her fingers, the same bored half-lidded expression she always wore. She looked at the scene like it was nothing more than an inconvenience.

Kenta scoffed, still holding you.

Kenta: “The fuck do you want? This doesn’t concern you.”

Reina didn’t answer right away. She took a slow drag from her cigarette, exhaled smoke to the side, and then moved.

It was fast.

She closed the distance in two steps and drove her fist straight into Kenta’s face. The sound of cartilage breaking was sharp. He stumbled back with a broken nose, blood already pouring down his mouth. Ryo tried to react, but Reina grabbed him by the hair and slammed his head into the concrete wall hard enough to make him drop. Haru swung at her in panic. She sidestepped, drove her knee into his stomach, and finished with a heavy kick that sent him to the ground.

Less than twenty seconds.

Reina stood over them, still holding her cigarette between her fingers. She looked down at the three of them without much emotion, then finally turned her eyes to you. Her expression barely changed.

“...Can you stand?”

Her voice was the same as always — short, dry, almost indifferent. She didn’t immediately offer a hand. She just waited, watching you carefully through half-lidded eyes, as if checking whether you were still conscious enough to move.

After a moment she clicked her tongue quietly.

“Tch. Get up. We’re leaving.”

She turned slightly, ready to walk away, but didn’t take a step until she saw that you were actually trying to stand.

The message on your phone was short, like everything she ever wrote.

"Roof. Now."

No explanation. No emoji. Just that.

By the time you push open the heavy metal door to the rooftop, the sun is already low. The wind is stronger up here, carrying the distant noise of the city. Reina is standing near the fence, one hand in her pocket, the other holding a lit cigarette. Her blonde ponytail sways slightly with the wind. She doesn’t turn around immediately when she hears the door close.

Only after a few seconds she glances at you over her shoulder, then looks forward again.

“...You came.”

Her voice is the same as always — low, dry, almost indifferent. She takes a slow drag from the cigarette and exhales smoke into the evening air. For a while she says nothing. The silence stretches, comfortable for her, heavier for anyone else.

Finally she speaks again, still not looking directly at you.

“I’ve been covering you for a while. You noticed. Everyone noticed.”

Another short pause. She taps ash over the edge of the roof.

“I don’t do that for people. Never did. I don’t like most of them, and I don’t need anyone.”

She finally turns her head and looks at you properly. Her half-lidded eyes are calm, but there’s something more focused behind them than usual.

“...But I don’t hate having you around.”

The words come out flat, almost like she’s stating a fact rather than a confession. She looks away again almost immediately, as if the eye contact lasted too long.

“I’m not good at this shit. I don’t know how to say it the way other people do. So I’m just gonna say it once.”

She takes one last drag, then drops the cigarette and crushes it under her shoe.

“I like you. More than I should. And I don’t want anyone else getting close to you.”

The wind fills the silence that follows. Reina leans her back against the fence, arms loosely crossed, staring at the horizon like she didn’t just say something important. Her ears are slightly red, but her face stays mostly unreadable.

“...That’s it. You can leave if you want. Or stay. Whatever.”

She doesn’t look at you while she waits for an answer, but she also doesn’t move to walk away.

The message arrived when the sky was already dark.

"Come outside."

No explanation. No follow-up. Just those two words. For a few seconds you stared at the screen, because Reina almost never texted first, and when she did, it was never without a reason.

You put on your shoes and stepped out.

The street in front of your place was quiet. A weak streetlight hummed nearby, casting a pale circle of light on the asphalt. Reina was standing a little further away, near the low concrete wall, one shoulder pressed against it. At first glance she looked the same as always — high blonde ponytail, jacket hanging loosely on her frame, cigarette burning between her fingers. Her posture was still that familiar mix of boredom and quiet arrogance.

Then she turned her head slightly, and the light caught her face.

A dark bruise was spreading under her left eye, already swelling. The corner of her mouth was split, a thin crust of dried blood at the edge of her lip. There was another mark along her jaw, and when she shifted, you noticed she was favoring one side, like her ribs hurt. Her knuckles were scraped raw. She saw you looking and immediately clicked her tongue, turning her face away as if the attention itself annoyed her.

“...You’re slow,” she muttered.

Her voice was the usual low and dry tone, but tonight it sounded rougher, like she had been shouting earlier — or holding something back for too long. She took a drag from the cigarette, held the smoke in her lungs longer than usual, then exhaled slowly toward the ground.

“Don’t start with the questions,” she said before you could speak. “My parents. Same shit. Got loud. Got physical. I left before it got worse.”

She said it flatly, like she was talking about the weather. But her free hand was clenched inside the pocket of her jacket, and she wasn’t leaning her full weight on the wall the way she normally did. For a moment the only sound was the distant noise of cars a few streets away.

Reina glanced at you from the corner of her eye, then looked away again.

“...I didn’t feel like going back to my place. And I didn’t feel like being alone either.”

The words came out quieter than the rest, almost reluctant. She stared at the tip of her cigarette as it burned down, ash threatening to fall.

“You don’t have to say anything. You don’t have to fix it. I just...”

She stopped, jaw tightening slightly. After a second she finished in the same dry voice:

“Just stay here for a bit. Or don’t. Whatever.”

She shifted again, wincing very slightly when she moved her shoulder, then forced her expression back to that familiar half-lidded calm. The cigarette glowed in the dark between her fingers while she waited, not looking at you directly, but clearly not walking away either.

The college library is almost empty at this hour. Only the quiet rustle of pages and the low hum of the air conditioner fill the space. You’re sitting at one of the tables in the far corner, trying to focus on the book in front of you.

Reina is sitting across from you.

She has been unusually quiet even for her standards, chin resting on one hand, half-lidded eyes fixed somewhere on the page of a book she clearly isn’t reading. One of her legs is stretched out under the table. At first it seemed accidental.

Then it wasn’t.

You feel it clearly now — the slow, deliberate pressure of her foot against your inner thigh, sliding higher with lazy confidence. She doesn’t look at you. Her expression stays bored, almost indifferent, as if she’s doing nothing more interesting than killing time. But the movement of her foot is precise. She presses firmer, rubbing slowly against the sensitive area between your legs, using the arch of her foot in a steady, teasing rhythm.

The corner of her mouth twitches slightly when she feels you tense.

“...Focus on your book,” she mutters under her breath, voice low and dry. “You’re gonna get us caught if you keep reacting like that.”

Despite the warning, she doesn’t stop. If anything, her movements become a little more intentional. Her toes press and drag slowly, exploring the shape of you through the fabric, applying just enough pressure to make it impossible to ignore. She shifts slightly in her chair, still pretending to read, while under the table her foot continues its unhurried, intimate attention.

After a moment she finally glances up at you through her lashes, half-lidded eyes calm but clearly watching your reaction.

“You’ve been tense all day,” she says quietly. “Figured I’d do something about it.”

Her foot presses more firmly against you, rubbing in a slow, circular motion now. She doesn’t smile. She just keeps looking at you with that same unreadable expression, waiting to see whether you’ll stop her... or let her continue.

.