April 2.
Again.
The numbers haunted him now. Mocked him.
They didn't just appear on his calendar — they echoed in every corridor, in the way students moved, in how the light fell across his bedroom floor. The universe had learned repetition. And it enjoyed it.
Ren didn't panic this time.
Not on the surface, at least.
He ate quietly. Washed his face. Folded his blanket with perfect corners. He had the day memorized now, down to which crow would caw as he crossed the field to school.
Inside, though, his chest buzzed with static.
He had moved the outcome last time. Diverted it.
But not stopped it.
He needed to try again.
This time, he shadowed Yuu more closely.
They walked together to class, sat close during break, shared lunch by the window on the second floor. Every few minutes, Ren checked — subtly — that Yuu was still breathing, still smiling, still here.
"Okay, seriously," Yuu finally said between bites of croquette bread. "Are you dying?"
Ren blinked. "What?"
"You keep looking at me like you're memorizing my face. Like I'm a ghost or something."
"…No. You're not a ghost."
"Good," Yuu said, flashing his usual grin. "'Cause if I'm gonna die, I at least want cool ghost powers. Haunt Reina, or float through vending machines."
Ren didn't laugh.
Yuu's smile faded slightly. "Hey. You okay?"
"…Don't go to the rooftop this week," Ren said again, quieter. "Just don't. Please."
Yuu nodded, slower this time. "Okay. I trust you."
But Ren knew that promises weren't enough.
This loop played dirty.
He needed control.
After school, Ren found the janitor and asked about the rooftop lock.
"I'm part of the safety committee," he lied. "Some students said the rooftop door opens too easily."
The janitor shrugged. "Old building. But it should be fine. Got a chain and everything."
"Can I check it?"
The man gave him a look but handed over the keys.
Ren climbed the dim stairwell, key in hand. The chain was intact, but the lock hung slightly open — just enough for someone to slide through if they tried.
He snapped it shut.
Double-checked it.
No rooftop this time.
The next morning, he arrived at school early. Earlier than anyone else.
He paced the halls like a ghost, checking each staircase, each exit to the field.
Everything looked normal.
Safe.
Predictable.
Lunchtime.
Yuu didn't come.
Ren's stomach twisted.
He checked the art room. Empty.
Library. Empty.
Cafeteria. Only Reina.
"Hey, have you seen Yuu?" he asked her.
She gave him a confused glance. "He said he was heading up for air."
Ren froze.
"Up? As in… up where?"
She shrugged. "I dunno. He just said 'somewhere quiet.' Looked tired."
Ren ran.
Past students. Past teachers.
The stairwells blurred.
He shoved open the rooftop door — still locked.
Not there.
He turned and sprinted down again. Through corridors. Past the third-floor music room.
His foot caught a bag at the edge of the stairs.
He fell. Crashed into the wall.
Pain screamed up his leg.
He pushed through it and kept going.
Finally, he reached the field.
And there, by the shadow of the back fence—
Yuu lay curled on the ground.
Alive.
Shaking.
Ren dropped beside him. "What—what happened?"
Yuu looked up with blood on his lips. "Someone pushed me."
"Who?!"
Yuu's eyes fluttered. "Didn't see. Just… cold hands. And then… I don't remember…"
Sirens blared again. Too soon. Always too soon.
The teachers came running.
Then the police.
Then the questions.
And soon, the same answer wrapped around him like thorns.
"Ren Ayato… was the last one seen with the victim."
Ren didn't cry this time.
He just looked up at the sky, red and soft and endless.
And waited.
"You weren't meant to be here."
April 2.
Again.