Hanasato hated Kurogane.
Not the quiet kind of hatred that fades with time, nor the kind that could be ignored with a forced smile. No— this one was persistent. Irritating. Always there, like a thorn she couldn't pull out.
Hanasato Airi hated Kurogane Kaori— the daughter of their company's rival.
It didn't make sense to most people.
After all, their parents were on good terms. They attended the same business events, exchanged pleasantries, even laughed together over dinners as if their companies weren't competing in the same field. To outsiders, it almost looked like they were allies.
But their daughters?
They couldn't stand each other.
"Seriously…?" Hanasato muttered as she opened her locker— only for a small mechanical toy to spring out with a loud click.
She flinched slightly, then sighed.
"Real mature, Kurogane."
A few students nearby chuckled quietly, already used to the scene.
Leaning against the wall at the far end of the hallway was Kurogane herself, arms crossed, watching with a faint, amused smirk.
"You still fall for that?" she said casually. "I'm starting to think you like it."
Hanasato shut her locker with more force than necessary. "And I'm starting to think you have nothing better to do with your life."
"Not really," Kurogane replied with a shrug. "But bothering you makes it a little more interesting."
Hanasato clicked her tongue, grabbing her things. "You're unbelievable."
"And you're predictable."
Their eyes met for a brief moment— sharp, clashing, unwilling to give in.
Then Hanasato turned away first.
She refused to give her the satisfaction.
"I swear…" she muttered under her breath as she walked off, "when I take over our company, I'll make it bigger than yours. I'll make sure of it."
Behind her, Kurogane said nothing.
But the faint smirk on her face slowly faded.
There was something neither of them could escape.
Something that even money and status couldn't fix.
Their health.
Hanasato had a heart condition.
It wasn't obvious at first glance. Most people saw her as composed, capable— even admired. But when stress built up, her chest would tighten painfully, making it hard to breathe. It came without warning sometimes, like her own body turning against her.
That was why she always carried her medication.
Always.
And Kurogane knew that.
She had made sure to know.
Late one night, sitting alone in her room with nothing but the glow of her screen, she had opened a file she wasn't supposed to access.
Hanasato Airi.
Top of her class. Well-liked. Reliable.
And then—
Medical Condition: Cardiac-related complications. Triggered by stress.
Kurogane stared at that line longer than she intended.
"…So even you have something like that," she muttered.
She leaned back in her chair, eyes half-lidded.
"Perfect on the outside… but fragile underneath."
For some reason, that thought stayed with her.
Kurogane also had her own problem.
Her body was weak.
Not visibly. Not in a way people could easily notice. But it was there—lingering beneath the surface. She got tired easily. She pushed herself harder than she should. There were days when even standing for too long felt like a burden.
But no one knew.
And she intended to keep it that way.
Because weakness—
was unacceptable.
Especially in her family.
"Don't embarrass us."
"Stand properly."
"You represent the Kurogane name."
Those words were constant. Repeated so often that they no longer sounded like criticism— just expectation.
Her parents weren't cruel.
But they weren't warm either.
There were no gentle reassurances. No comforting words.
Only results.
Only perfection.
Only control.
So when Kurogane looked at Hanasato—
She saw something she didn't understand.
People gathered around her.
Friends laughed with her.
Teachers trusted her.
Her parents worried about her.
Cared for her.
Loved her openly.
"…What's so special about her?" Kurogane murmured once, watching from a distance as Hanasato laughed with her friends.
Her gaze lingered.
Not with admiration.
Not exactly with hatred either.
Something more complicated.
Something she refused to name.
The thought came suddenly.
Without warning.
"Make Hanasato Airi hate me."
Kurogane blinked.
"…What?"
She frowned slightly, as if confused by her own mind.
Why that?
Why would she want that?
She already disliked Hanasato.
So why go out of her way to make it worse?
But the more she thought about it—
the more it made sense.
If Hanasato hated her… then there would be distance.
Clear.
Defined.
Safe.
No expectations.
No misunderstandings.
No… complications.
"…Yeah," Kurogane muttered to herself, looking away. "That's better."
Because if someone like Hanasato—
someone bright, admired, and loved—
ever looked too closely at someone like her…
They might notice.
The cracks.
The weakness.
The things Kurogane worked so hard to hide.
And that—
was unacceptable.
So she started small.
Annoying pranks.
Teasing remarks.
Just enough to irritate.
Never enough to truly hurt.
Even when her targets extended to Hanasato's friends, she made sure it stayed harmless.
Calculated.
Controlled.
Intentional.
She told herself it was just for amusement.
But deep down—
she knew it wasn't.
———————
The streets were quieter than usual as Hanasato walked home, her thoughts restless.
"How am I supposed to avoid her…" she muttered.
Their lives were too intertwined.
Same school.
Same circles.
Same expectations.
It was exhausting.
"Maybe I should just ignore her completely or ask my parents to go to a different school…but I guess I would miss my friends here... "
As she was thinking.
The traffic light turned green.
She stepped forward.
And didn't notice—
the car.
A sudden blur.
A loud horn.
Then—
a force.
Her body was shoved backward.
The world spun as a crash echoed through the street.
"What the heck are you doing, you idiot?!"
Hanasato froze.
That voice—
Kurogane.
Standing in front of her.
Breathing unevenly.
Eyes sharp—
but something else was there too.
Something unfamiliar.
"Are you trying to get yourself killed?!" Kurogane snapped, grabbing her arm. "You're supposed to watch the road!"
Hanasato couldn't respond.
Her body trembled.
Her breathing grew uneven.
Everything felt too loud.
Too fast.
Kurogane clicked her tongue and pulled out her phone. "Yeah, we need— no, she's not okay. Just hurry—"
She stopped.
Something was wrong.
"Hanasato…?"
Her face had gone pale.
Her hand clutched weakly at her chest.
"…Hey."
Kurogane pulled Hanasato closer.
"Don't do that."
No response.
Only shallow breathing.
The sound of panic rising.
"Tch—where is it…?" Kurogane muttered, dropping her phone as she grabbed Hanasato's bag, searching quickly.
Then—
"…Empty?"
Her grip tightened.
For the first time—
her composure cracked.
"Hanasato, look at me," she said, her voice unsteady. "Hey—stay with me."
Her hand hovered for a moment before gripping Hanasato's shoulder.
Firm.
Grounding.
"Help is coming. So don't you dare pass out on me, got it?"
But Hanasato's vision was fading.
Blurring.
The last thing she saw—
was Kurogane's face.
Afraid.
For someone who wanted to be hated—
Why did this feel so unbearable?
Why did the thought of losing her—
even now—
make her chest tighten?
"…Idiot," Kurogane muttered under her breath, her voice barely audible.
"I told you not to die in front of me."