CHAPTER 6 — Red Lines
Miyu froze when she heard it—
a broken whisper cutting through sirens and rain.
"…Miyu…"
She barely made it two steps toward Itsuki before the paramedics blocked her.
"Move aside! Patient critical!"
Red and blue lights flashed across her face, reflecting off the puddles forming under her shoes. The rain had softened into a misty drizzle, but it still felt like needles on her skin.
Miyu reached out, fingers trembling.
"Itsuki—!"
They slid him onto the stretcher, the wheels clattering over wet concrete. A paramedic muttered something into a radio—Miyu didn't catch a word. All she saw was Itsuki's hand slipping off the edge of the stretcher like he was already disappearing.
Daichi stepped up beside her and silently pulled off his jacket, wrapping it around her shoulders. Her dress was soaked. Her body was shaking. The warmth helped—but not enough. Nothing was enough.
She didn't even thank him—her eyes never left Itsuki.
Daichi didn't mind.
He'd admired her since school.
Other girls practically melted when he walked past, but Miyu's calm, almost uninterested attitude toward his looks?
That hooked him from day one.
She suddenly turned and hugged him.
"Thank you," she whispered, rain dripping from her hair.
Daichi's heart punched his ribs so hard he knew she could feel it. He gently placed her glasses back on her face.
She looked like someone watching the world end.
"Hey! You two!" a policeman shouted. "Get out of the rain—into the car!"
They obeyed.
---
INSIDE THE AMBULANCE
Itsuki's mind drifted like a candle in the wind.
"BP crashing!"
"We're losing him!"
"Start neural stabilizer!"
Voices blurred. Lights smeared.
Everything hurt.
His vision fogged…
his breathing thinned…
his chest burned.
Somewhere between consciousness and whatever waited beyond, he floated.
There was pain. Then cold.
Then—shockingly—a spark of satisfaction.
At least I died doing something brave… something right.
He almost smiled—
Until Miyu's face appeared in the darkness.
Rain in her hair.
Tears in her eyes.
Her eyes—terrified, pleading, begging him not to go.
The whole "I'm cool with dying" energy evaporated instantly.
In that collapsing space in his mind, another memory surfaced—
one he hadn't recalled in years.
Ten years ago.
He was nine.
She was eight.
She sat alone on the playground, legs folded, picking up tiny pebbles and arranging them into patterns. Other kids yelled and ran around, but she didn't look up. She was this quiet island in the middle of chaos.
He'd walked over, curious.
"You're weird," he'd said.
"Why?" She didn't even flinch.
"It's clear, others are playing and you're not."
She just looked at him with those calm, unreadable eyes and said:
"You're loud."
He'd sat beside her anyway.
And she'd let him.
That was the first time she didn't push someone away.
Back in the darkness, the memory squeezed his chest.
In that emptiness, he made a promise:
I'm coming back. I'll fight my way back if I have to. I'm not leaving her.
The heart monitor beeped faster, like it refused to let go.
Darkness swallowed him anyway.
---
HOSPITAL — NIGHT
The police car skidded to a stop.
Miyu and Daichi jumped out before the engine even shut off.
They ran under the bright entrance lights, splashing through puddles.
The hospital doors hissed open. The lobby was too bright—harsh white lights, no shadows anywhere, Miyu's soaked hair sticked to her face. The air smelled like disinfectant and meds.
Nurses rushed past with stretchers. Machines beeped in uneven rhythms. Everything felt too fast and too slow at the same time.
"Where's the emergency ward?!" Daichi yelled.
A nurse pointed, startled. "Straight down!"
They ran.
Miyu stumbled, but Daichi caught her wrist before she fell.
At the reception desk, Miyu slammed her palms down.
"The emergency patient who just came in—the boy—Itsuki—please—!"
The staff raised their hands.
"Please remain calm—he's in surgery—"
"Calm?!" Miyu's voice cracked. "He's dying!"
Her scream echoed down the hallway.
Two officers approached the desk with notebooks.
"Miss, we need your statement."
Miyu opened her mouth—nothing came out. Her throat locked. Every time she blinked she saw Itsuki falling, replaying like punishment.
Daichi stepped in, voice steady.
He explained what he saw—how the attackers moved, what Itsuki did, how everything escalated too fast.
Even from Daichi's calm explanation, Miyu felt herself sinking.
While he talked, Miyu's eyes drifted to the double doors of the surgical ward.
Then—
A nurse came out.
Miyu sprinted toward her so fast she nearly slipped.
"Is he okay? Please—please tell me he's okay!"
The nurse blinked, startled.
"Oh—dear, calm down. I'm just heading to fetch supplies. I'm not part of his team. All I can say is he's still in there and they're working."
The tiniest fragment of hope cracked through Miyu's terror.
A microscopic breath. Barely anything.
But something.
Behind her, Daichi watched.
The way Miyu ran…
the way her heart lived in someone else's body…
It twisted something sharp inside him.
He wished—just once—she'd fall apart like that for him.
The thought stung, and he shoved it down.
The officers finished with Daichi.
One officer nodded. "We'll investigate. You both did what you could."
Miyu shook her head.
"No… I didn't…"
Tears streamed down her face.
"This is my fault. They wanted revenge on me and he's the one in surgery."
Daichi placed a hand on her shoulder.
"Miyu. Stop. This isn't on you."
But she couldn't believe it.
"If I had used my car… if I hadn't come to his apartment… If I didn't—"
She couldn't finish.
It felt like the universe was pointing at her saying it's your fault.
Daichi guided her to a bench.
She leaned her head on his shoulder, crying softly.
"What if he doesn't make it, Daichi…?"
"He will," Daichi said, voice firm but trembling.
"He's strong. He's annoying. He never gives up."
He swallowed.
"And he promised me he'd beat me one day.
I'm not letting him skip that."
Miyu clutched the jacket tighter, tears dripping onto the fabric as rain tapped the hospital windows.
"If he dies… I'll never forgive myself."
The night felt endless.