Renji sat in the empty classroom by the window. The final bell had rung twenty minutes earlier, and the school had emptied out like a discarded shell footsteps faded down the corridors, lockers slammed one by one, voices dissolved into the distance until only silence remained. He stayed behind. Elbows planted on the scratched wooden desk, chin resting on interlaced fingers. His school bag lay forgotten at his feet, zipper half-open, textbooks slightly spilling out, but he didn't care. He simply stared outside.
Beyond the glass a heavy, low sky the color of wet concrete. Clouds hung motionless, as if the wind had forgotten how to blow. Birds flew low sharp black silhouettes against the gray expanse. One flock passed very close to the window; through the glass he could almost hear the soft rush of their wings. They circled once, twice, then veered sharply and disappeared behind the row of apartment buildings across the street. Renji followed them with his eyes until the last black dot melted into the clouds.
He wasn't thinking about anything in particular. Thoughts simply didn't come. His mind was quiet too quiet. After that afternoon in the bathroom, something inside had been switched off. No anger burned, no sharp pain twisted in his chest. Just a vast, hollow space like a room where all the furniture had been removed and the lights turned off. The fluorescent lamp overhead buzzed steadily, the only sound in the classroom, indifferent and constant.
Outside, a single leaf detached from a tree and drifted down slowly. It spun in lazy spirals, caught a faint breeze, then landed on the wet pavement below. Renji watched it until it stopped moving. The sky darkened further. Rain was coming again. The air outside smelled faintly of damp earth and distant exhaust, seeping through the slightly open window frame.
The next day.
Kaoru's mother stood in the narrow hallway, zipping up her small travel bag. Beyond the window a warm day after the night's heavy rain. The air carried the sweet, clean scent of wet earth, grass, and leaves. Sunlight broke through the remaining clouds in bright shafts, making puddles on the sidewalk sparkle like scattered coins. Drops still fell from the eaves drip-drip-drip rhythmic, almost soothing.
Kaoru sat on the living room floor, knees drawn tight to her chest, arms wrapped around her legs. She rocked gently back and forth, staring at the Lego box in front of her bright primary colors, scattered pieces, a half-built castle from yesterday still standing crookedly.
"Mom… you're really going to the dacha?"
Her mother turned from the mirror where she was fixing her hair, smiled tiredly but warmly.
"Yes, sweetheart. Just for a couple of days. It's so peaceful there no noise, no neighbors, just birds and trees. I need to rest a little. You'll stay here with grandma she promised to bake your favorite apple pies."
Kaoru lowered her head until her forehead rested on her knees.
"I'll miss you. A lot. I'll cry every day."
Her mother set the bag down, walked over, crouched beside her daughter. She stroked Kaoru's hair gently, tucking a loose strand behind her ear.
"Oh, my little one… don't say that. I'll be back before you even have time to miss me. We'll call every evening I'll tell you about the garden, about the rabbits that come to eat the carrots. You won't even notice I'm gone."
Kaoru sniffled, voice muffled against her knees.
"I will notice. I always do."
Her mother sighed softly, pulled Kaoru into a hug. The girl buried her face in her mother's shoulder, small hands clutching the fabric of her coat.
"While I'm away, play with your Lego. Build something big and beautiful a castle, a spaceship, whatever you want. When I come back, I'll bring you a new set. The one with the pink flowers you wanted. Deal?"
Kaoru nodded against her mother's shoulder, tears soaking into the coat.
"Deal…"
Her mother kissed the top of her head, held her a moment longer, then stood up.
"Be good for grandma. Eat properly, don't stay up too late watching cartoons. I love you more than anything in the world."
"I love you too…"
The door closed with a soft click. The apartment suddenly felt bigger, emptier. Kaoru remained on the floor, staring at the Lego box. She reached out slowly, picked up a red brick, turned it over in her fingers. But she didn't start building. She just held it, listening to the drip-drip of water from the gutter outside. A warm breeze moved the curtain, letting in a shaft of sunlight that fell across the floor like a golden path. Kaoru didn't move toward it. She sat still, the brick warm in her hand, the apartment quiet except for the occasional distant car and the soft patter of remaining drops.
At the same time, Sua stood by an old vending machine on a quiet street corner, not far from the metro exit. The machine was ancient faded stickers, scratched glass, lights flickering weakly. It hummed steadily, offering cola, green tea, coffee in cans. Around it empty sidewalk, only the wind chasing a few dry leaves and crumpled wrappers across the pavement.
Sua circled the machine slowly, as if waiting his turn. Hands in his jacket pockets. His gaze slid over cracks, the back panel, the ground beneath it. He knew this spot. Takayama's people used it. Not for big deals, not for weapons or cash. For small stashes packets, vials, tiny bottles of something that could disappear into a pocket in seconds.
He bent down as if tying his shoelace. Fingers slid along the bottom edge of the machine, feeling for irregularities. Found it a small metal plate taped on with duct tape. He peeled it carefully. Inside a plastic bottle, the kind that once held soda, now cut down and resealed.
Sua pulled it out. Held it up to the light.
Empty.
Not a trace. Not even residue on the sides. Only a faint chemical smell sharp, artificial, already fading into nothing.
He clenched the bottle in his fist until the plastic cracked.
"They already used it…" he whispered to himself.
The machine hummed again, its screen flashing "Insert coins." Sua didn't insert anything. He straightened up, slipped the empty bottle into his pocket, and walked away slowly, without looking back.
Birds flew overhead, low and black against the gray sky. The sun tried to break through the clouds but couldn't quite manage it.