By now, Ren knew what would follow the fall.
The whispers.
The stares.
The polite questions from teachers that weren't really questions — just carefully worded accusations. The soft steps in the hallway. The way Detective Fushimi's business card always showed up in his bag before the sirens ever did.
But this time, Ren didn't wait for the cuffs.
He ran.
He didn't run far — not off-campus or into the woods like some doomed fugitive — but far enough to buy himself silence.
He crouched in the old toolshed behind the gym, hidden under tarp and splinters and rusted shelves. His breathing was ragged. His hands smelled of blood that wasn't his.
Yuu wasn't dead this time.
That was progress.
But still — somehow, still — Ren was the one the world turned toward.
"You were seen near the fence."
"Someone said you were alone with him before he collapsed."
"Didn't you act strange last week?"
He could hear it already. The voices looping like skipping records.
He had to change the story.
By evening, Ren emerged and walked home slowly.
His parents said nothing. They didn't even look up when he entered. Maybe the loop reset them too tightly this time. Maybe the suspicion hadn't reached them yet.
He lay in bed staring at the ceiling.
What was he missing?
Loop recap, Version 3:
Warn Yuu → Check.
Lock rooftop → Check.
Shadow him → Check.
Yuu survives (barely) → Check.
And yet—
Blame assigned: Ren Ayato.
The next day, he tried again. But this time, he told someone.
He waited after class and cornered a teacher he trusted — Mr. Fujimoto, the quiet math teacher who once stayed late to help him study.
"I need to report something," Ren said, forcing calm into his voice.
Mr. Fujimoto blinked. "What's wrong?"
"It's about Yuu Kaede. I think… he's in danger."
"From who?"
"I don't know. But it's happened before. A lot. Over and over."
The teacher frowned. "Excuse me?"
"I can't explain everything. But please. Watch over him. Don't let him go anywhere alone. Especially outside the field or the rooftop."
Mr. Fujimoto's brow creased deeper. "Ayato-kun… have you talked to the counselor lately?"
Ren's stomach dropped. "This isn't a mental health thing—"
"I didn't say it was. But the language you're using… it sounds like you might be experiencing delusions."
No.
No no no.
This was happening again.
The next day, the principal summoned him. There was a sealed file on her desk. Red corners.
"Ren Ayato," she said gently. "This is the third incident you've been near. We're placing you on temporary leave."
"I didn't—!"
"We're not saying you're guilty. This is just for your own wellbeing… and the safety of others."
Safety.
Others.
Ren's vision blurred.
He was being removed from the story.
As he stepped out of the office, he caught a glimpse of Serika Mizuno walking down the opposite hall. Her hair was tucked neatly behind one ear. Her uniform immaculate. She didn't look at him — not really — but her lips curved into something that might've been a smile.
And in that brief, slivered second…
Ren thought he saw recognition in her eyes.
Like she knew.
Like she'd seen this before too.
That night, he returned to the field.
The grass whispered beneath him as he knelt.
He took out a silver pen and carved into a small flat stone near the fence:
"IF YOU SEE THIS, IT'S REAL."
He pressed the words deep. Unmistakable. Irrefutable.
Then he curled up next to the stone and closed his eyes.
"You weren't meant to be here."
April 2.