The sharp ring of the bicycle's bell echoed in the cold evening air.
My heart was still pounding from what had just happened—my voice still hoarse from shouting her name as she was pulled away, her father's hand locked around her wrist like a chain. Izumi hadn't said a word. She hadn't even looked back.
But her silence said enough.
Kaito slowed the bike as we reached the hill overlooking the school gate. I jumped off before he could even stop properly.
"They've already gone," I muttered, breath clouding in the crisp air.
The black car that had taken her away was long gone.
My chest ached. Not just from running, not just from frustration—but from the impossible quiet she'd left behind. I could still feel her fingertips on mine. Still hear her whispered voice: "Don't forget me again."
I clenched my fists.
"I won't," I whispered.
Not this time.
---
Kaito didn't say anything for a while. We stood there under the dim streetlight, watching the road like fools, as if waiting long enough would bring her back.
"She'll come to school tomorrow," Kaito finally muttered. "She always does."
"Not if they lock her down," I said. "Her father's serious. I saw it in his face."
"You planning to barge into their house or something?" Kaito glanced sideways at me.
I didn't answer right away.
Because the answer was yes.
If it came to that—I would.
He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Look, I know this sucks. But you gotta be careful. She's the daughter of a powerful man. This isn't just high school drama anymore."
"I don't care about his power," I said. "I care about her."
Kaito looked at me quietly for a moment.
And then, in an uncharacteristically soft voice, said, "Good. Then don't stop."
---
The next morning, Izumi wasn't at school.
Neither was her name on the attendance sheet.
I waited through classes, through lunch, through student council preparations. My eyes kept darting to the door, hoping she'd step through at any moment, clipboard in hand, pretending everything was normal.
But she didn't.
By afternoon, I'd had enough.
I walked straight to the faculty office.
"I need Izumi Ishikawa's address," I told the teacher on duty.
He blinked. "That's confidential."
"It's urgent."
"Still—"
"She might be in danger," I said firmly.
That gave him pause.
"Look, I'm not asking for her phone number or personal records. I just need to make sure she's okay."
He stared at me, uncertain.
Then handed me a yellow post-it note with shaky handwriting.
"Don't tell anyone I gave you this."
"I won't."
---
I stood outside the Ishikawa estate two hours later, sweating despite the wind.
It was bigger than I imagined. Traditional-style architecture with modern renovations. Tall walls. Security cameras. A huge iron gate that looked like it could swallow a person whole.
I pressed the intercom.
No response.
I pressed again.
Finally, a voice crackled through the speaker.
> "State your name."
"Ryou. Nozuki Ryou."
A pause.
> "You are not on the visitor list."
"I need to speak to Izumi."
> "Not possible. Please leave."
"I'm not leaving."
No reply.
I stepped back and looked at the wall. Way too high to climb. And even if I did manage to get over, there were likely alarms or worse.
But I wasn't giving up.
I sat down by the gate.
And waited.
---
An hour passed. The sun dipped lower.
A car rolled up the driveway behind the gates. I stood quickly, heart pounding, but it wasn't her. Just one of their staff.
Another hour. Still nothing.
Finally, as twilight wrapped the sky in velvet purple, a small window opened on the second floor of the mansion.
A pale face peeked out.
My breath caught.
Izumi.
She didn't call out. Didn't wave. Just stared.
I raised my hand slowly.
She didn't return the gesture—but I saw the way her fingers twitched.
And then, just before she closed the window again, her lips moved.
I couldn't hear what she said.
But I read it.
"Thank you."
---
I returned home that night exhausted—but more determined than ever.
The next few days passed like a dream I couldn't wake from.
Izumi didn't come back to school.
Rumors spread quickly—about her engagement, her transfer to another school, the rich suitor she was promised to. None of it mattered to me.
Because I knew her.
And I knew this wasn't what she wanted.
Still, my hands were tied.
Until the Cultural Festival day arrived.
---
The festival grounds were beautiful—lanterns swinging in the wind, stalls buzzing with students, laughter echoing from the stage area.
But my heart wasn't in it.
Not until I saw her.
At the far end of the courtyard.
Standing beside her father.
Wearing a formal kimono. The family crest embroidered in silver on the sash. Her hair done up with red pins. She looked regal. Distant. Untouchable.
But her eyes—her eyes searched the crowd.
And they found me.
For a heartbeat, the world froze.
Then her father placed a hand on her shoulder, steering her toward a group of officials.
I pushed through the crowd, ignoring greetings, ignoring everything—until I stood only a few feet away.
Her father spotted me.
"Leave," he said coldly.
"I want to speak to her."
"You've already done enough. This is a private matter."
Izumi looked at me, pleading.
"Please," I said softly. "Just a minute."
Her father turned to her. "Izumi?"
She hesitated. Then nodded.
He scowled but stepped away.
---
We walked behind the gym, into the quiet shadowed path where no one else lingered.
She didn't speak.
Neither did I.
Not at first.
Then she broke the silence.
"They're sending me to Kyoto. Tomorrow."
My stomach dropped.
"For how long?"
"Indefinitely. Until the marriage."
"No."
Her eyes widened.
"I won't let that happen," I said. "You don't want this. I know you don't."
"It's not about what I want," she whispered. "It's about my family. Their expectations."
"What about us?"
She closed her eyes. "We don't exist in their world."
"Then let's leave it."
Her breath hitched.
I stepped closer.
"I'm not a kid under a tree anymore, Izumi. And neither are you. But I still remember what I promised you."
Her voice cracked. "You forgot for so long."
"I won't forget again."
Tears welled in her eyes.
"I don't want to leave," she whispered.
"Then don't."
"I can't—"
"You can."
"I'm scared."
"So am I."
I took her hand.
"Let's run."
She looked at me, terrified and hopeful all at once.
Then nodded.
---
We didn't run that night.
But we planned.
Every detail.
Where. When. How.
And the moment her father announced the official wedding ceremony would take place at their private residence in three days—we were ready.
Kaito agreed to help. Mina too. Even the usually oblivious faculty members were willing to cover for us.
And when the day arrived, I stood outside the Ishikawa residence again.
Not waiting this time.
But ready to break down the door.
(To be continued in Chapter 9 — "When We Choose to Fall")
AUTHOR — CrimsonBorN / Step
Twitter / X account: ANC_CrimsonBorN