Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

There was something wrong about Reze.

Asa could feel it in her bones. A faint, uneasy buzz that crawled up whenever Reze drifted into view.

On paper, there was nothing to complain about. Reze was a model transfer student: punctual, polite, absurdly pretty like she'd walked off a movie set and accidentally ended up in homeroom, with hair that always fell in exactly the right place and a uniform that somehow never wrinkled.

She answered teachers with calm, confident precision. She ran track faster than people who actually trained, beating even the boys. Asa wouldn’t be surprised if she baked artisan bread on the weekends, the kind with air pockets.

If mathematicians ever managed to calculate pi down to its final digit, that would be Reze: perfectly and impossibly rounded.

People tripped over themselves around her. Even Denji, for god’s sake. But somehow Reze kept ending up next to him. Walking with him. Talking to him. Spending lunch with him. Dating him? All without it putting the slightest dent in her popularity. Which was suspicious in itself.

Normal humans were flawed and messy.

Reze clearly… was not.

Normal students didn’t charm an entire school in under two months. Normal students didn’t get away with a vague “chronic health condition” that teachers excused without question.

And normal students did not vanish for entire afternoons, reappear with their uniform crisp, and then ace a surprise quiz on a material they had allegedly never heard before—right as reports of a nearby terrorist bombing hits the news.

Asa had caught her once at the shoe locker. Slipping back inside in her outdoor loafers, a faint smear of soot across the toes.

Suspicious.

From the front of the room, Tanaka-sensei droned on about something in mathematics. Chalk squeaked against the board in uneven strokes.

Asa sat by the window one desk behind Reze, staring holes into the side of her head.

Denji slouched somewhere to Asa’s right, half-asleep, as usual. Reze had walked in talking about some movie to him earlier.

Sunlight dragged across the classroom floor, catching the strands of Reze’s hair along the curve of her cheek and jaw, pulling out faint shades of violet.

It was infuriatingly picturesque.

If someone snapped a photo of her right now, it would probably win some school photography contest. Because of course Reze would just be sitting there, existing, and the world would bend its lighting around her.

Suspicious, Asa thought, as Reze made elegant strokes on her notebook.

Asa glanced down at her half-finished notes, then back up at Reze’s neat, perfect handwriting, because of course her handwriting was perfect. Like she practiced calligraphy in her downtime, because of course she also had multiple hobbies she was irritatingly perfect at.

She realized her own pencil had stopped moving sometime ten minutes ago and she forced her gaze down to the math problem on the board, trying very hard to care about functions. Her eyes slid back to Reze on their own.

Asa’s fist tightened around her pencil.

No one was that put together in high school. No one got to be smart and athletic and pretty and mysterious and charismatic, unless they’d made some kind of illegal contract with a Devil.

And if they had… well. Someone ought to at least be taking notes. For civic duty. Obviously.

The pencil snapped in her grip with a sharp little crack. The top half flew off and bounced off her textbook, rolling toward the edge of the desk.

Asa froze.

From across the aisle, a pair of green eyes slid toward her.

“Something the matter, Asa?” Reze asked, voice soft and melodic.

Asa stared at her. Her brain, which could recite entire biology chapters from memory floundered.

“N–no,” she croaked. “All good.”

Reze’s gaze flicked pointedly to Asa’s desk. The broken pencil tip had rolled all the way to the edge and toppled. Asa lunged, caught nothing, and almost slipped out of her chair instead.

The pencil rolled, coming to a stop at the foot of Reze’s desk.

Reze bent down to pick it up, and reached over to offer the pencil back. Her fingers brushed Asa’s, and a jolt shot straight up her arm.

“Thanks,” Asa muttered, snatching the pencil.

Reze’s mouth twitched. Not quite a smile, something smaller, and warmer. It flashed across her face and she had turned before Asa could decide what it meant.

Suspicious, Asa thought again, because the alternative was charming and that was obviously and decisively not what it was.

Before she could formulate another accusation in her head, the classroom speakers popped with static. A shrill tone cut through Tanaka-sensei’s sentence, then the flattened voice of the principal crackled to life.

“Attention students,” the speaker crackled. “This is an announcement from the office. A safety incident has occurred in the surrounding area. As a precaution, all students are asked to remain inside school grounds until further notice. Teachers, please keep your classes in their rooms. We will provide updates as soon as they are available. Public Safety is currently investigating. That is all.”

The tone beeped again and the speakers clicked off.

The room held its breath. Then a low murmur swelled like a wave. Chairs creaked. Someone at the back groaned, “Again?” Another grumbled that he was going to miss his date.

Asa’s skin prickled. Her eyes slid inconspicuously, slow as a minute hand, back to Reze.

Reze sat very still. Her pencil rested on the page. Her gaze was on the board, but her pupils didn’t move. They were fixed just to the left, staring through the wall.

Then she blinked and the moment broke. Reze raised her hand.

“Tanaka-sensei,” Reze said in her usual lilting voice.

“Yes?” he replied instantly, tone automatically fond.

“May I be excused?” she asked. “I’m… not feeling very well.”

Asa’s head snapped toward her so fast her neck twinged.

“Oh, yes, yes. If you’re unwell, go to the nurse. Take your things.”

A couple of boys sat up straighter, arms shooting up into the air to volunteer to walk her. Disgusting. Tanaka-sensei shushed them.

“Thank you,” Reze said as she rose and gave a small bow, gathering her notebook and pencil case into her bag in one fluid motion. Her chair scraped back with a polite little sound.

Asa watched every step she took with intensity.

So she’s suddenly unwell exactly thirty seconds after a safety incident. Where was she going? The nurse? The bathroom? A rooftop escape route? A hidden stairwell? Some secret bunker she used to assemble bombs?

Absolutely outrageous.

The classroom door slid open. Reze stepped into the hall. The door slid shut with a soft thump.

Asa eyes narrowed at the frame.

She turned, ready to share this critical development with the only other person in class she knew had any proximity to Reze.

Denji sat to her right, slumped in his chair and chin propped in his palm. He’d spent the announcement tracing little doodles in the corner of his worksheet, tiny chainsaws, a cat, a tiny dog that had a chainsaw sticking out of its head? Something that might have resembled a boob if you squinted.

“Did you see that?” Asa hissed. “She left. Again.”

Denji blinked, slow. “Huh?”

“Reze,” she said, stabbing a finger toward the door. “Public incident announcement, oh no, I don’t feel well, and then a speedy exit? That’s not normal.”

He followed her finger with his eyes, then shrugged.

“Yeah,” he said. “She does that sometimes.”

Asa stared at him. “And you don’t think that’s suspicious?”

Denji scratched his cheek. “Suspicious how?”

“She disappears before every major incident!” Asa hissed. “Statistically, that’s significant.”

“Uh-huh.” Denji twirled his pencil between his fingers, then shrugged. “You’re overthinking it, dude. That’s just Reze.”

“Exactly,” Asa said. “She’s just Reze. That’s the problem.”

Denji looked at her eyes half-lidded, expression bored.

“You good, Asa?” he asked finally. “You look like you’re about to bust a vein.”

“I am perfectly fine,” Asa said through clenched teeth.

She was not. She was going to get to the bottom of this if it killed her. And if it turned out she was wrong, well, she would simply die of embarrassment instead.

Interrogating half the student body proved to be worthless. She’d cornered unsuspecting classmates beside shoe lockers, vending machines, and the sink in the girls’ bathroom—only to discover what she already knew, and that was that everyone thought Reze was the second coming of Christ in loafers and a choker.

She was chic and elegant and so effortlessly cool, which was absolutely useless to Asa’s investigation. Not a single person had the braincells to find her well-timed disappearances sketchy. Or to even consider she might be smuggling C4 in her pencil case.

Worse, the conversations always somehow detoured to how Reze was always hanging around that goblin Denji.

For reasons beyond anyone’s comprehension, all the attractive and socially competent people in school orbited Denji.

Denji, who doodled boobs on worksheets. Denji, who was barely even literate. Denji who used to play part-time furniture. 

And yet Reze hovered near him because even perfection had blind spots, and hers was idiots like him.

Yoshida was around him outside of class, leaning against walls chatting with him, hands in his pockets, always calm and collected. Even that flirt Mifune, who looked way too old to be in high school, wandered around him from time to time for absolutely no discernible reason.

She could not understand why the hottest people in her school congregated around the least eligible man alive.

Asa stationed herself on a bench near the track field, half-hidden behind a humming vending machine, pretending she was just sitting, and doing normal bench things.

Out on the track, Reze jogged past in easy, unbothered strides. Occasionally stopping to chat with the other members of the team.

Asa kept glancing up and down—monitoring strictly for research. Above her, a scruffy bird squawked. Asa glared at it shooing it away. Then she hunched over her phone and hit Sign Up.

She tapped the profile picture—Reze smiling in soft purple and orange dusk light—and was immediately met with a wall of thumbnails that all looked like they had been screencapped from movie scenes. Beach shots. Café shots. Candid alley shots with dramatic sun-flares. Moody rooftop shots with wind in her hair.

Asa’s eye twitched.

@re_ze. 10 posts. 5,144 followers. 0 following.

Why did she have so many followers? Who were these people? 0 followings? Really? That full of herself?

She clicked on the newest post: Reze holding a coffee at a café, hair tousled.

serving coffee… with a bang 😜☕️💥

Asa scowled. What the hell did that mean? Screenshot.

She scrolled.

A photo of Reze in a bus, legs tucked in, smiling softly. Warm sunlight filtering in. The trees blurring as they passed through the windows.

Just ridin the bus n thinking about stuff… 🙄💭🚌

What stuff? The eye-roll emoji? And why the hell did she look like a goddess in public transit?

Screenshot.

She scrolled harder.

Beach shot. Golden hour. Waves framing her perfectly. Hair caught mid-wind. A faint sun halo glowing behind her casting painterly streaks of shadows on the sand.

last time we were at the beach things were pretty crazy ngl loool 💀🌊

Dear god, all her captions were atrocious.

A blurry shot of Reze mid-laugh, hair flying, Tokyo skyscraper lights streaking behind her cinematically. The angle looked impossible. Did she take this while falling off a building?

accidentally took this pic but its kinda fire no cap 🔥🔥

“Who writes like this,” she hissed. “No cap? What the hell are you even talking about?”

Screenshot. Screenshot. Screenshot.

Asa paused on one particular post. Reze holding up a plastic toy chainsaw, sticking our her tongue, with a playful scowl. In the background, barely visible, propped up unmistakably was a corkboard with a map pinned up. Red strings, and multiple colored pins marked different areas. Asa zoomed in with trembling fingers and gasped.

“Hmm, interested in Reze?” A shadow slid over the screen.

Asa nearly dropped her phone. Yoshida had materialized at her elbow out of nowhere.

“It's not what it looks like!” she sputtered. "I'm investigating!"

He moved to sit beside her with a bored elegance, peering over her shoulder to peek at her phone. She hugged the phone to her chest shifting the screen away from his eyes.

“Investigating her jawline?” he asked with a wry smile.

“It’s not her jawline!” she hissed.

“Ah, her collarbone then.”

“No!” she snapped. “I’m gathering intelligence on a matter relevant to national safety.”

“Pretty girls are a threat to national safety? Hmm, those collarbones are quite sharp.” Yoshida said. Asa restrained herself from punching him in the face.

Yoshida had always been hard to pin down. Polite, unreadable, and effortlessly charming in a way that had half the school swooning over him, but also a colossal pain in Asa’s ass.

Still, he was sharp. Too sharp. He was one of the top students in Japan if the rumors were true. And he apparently had a brief stint as a civilian devil hunter. If she needed a second opinion he was—and it pissed her off to admit this—probably the best person to ask.

"Yoshida," she whispered conspiringly. “I need your help…”

"Oh?" he said.

“I have… concerns. About Reze.” Asa said. “I think she’s connected to the bombings around Tokyo. Yesterday, right after the explosion in Meguro, she asked to be excused. These incidents have practically been happening every other day now. And these bombings only started two months ago, right when she transferred from—” she flailed, “Wherever she came from!”

Yoshida tilted his head. "You think she’s suspicious because she's a foreigner?"

"No! I'm not— I don't care that she’s—“ She paused then groaned. “Are you even taking me seriously?"

“I didn’t take you for a conspiracy theorist, Mitaka.” Yoshida tapped his chin thoughtfully. “You should ask her out.”

“What?! Why— how is that the logical—” Her eyes shifted to the track where Reze was literally running laps around everyone.

“People reveal secrets on dates,” he said. “It's a very effective interrogation tactic.”

“No they don’t,” Asa said. This was pure conjecture on her part. But whatever plane of existence Yoshida operated on, probably one skewed by his pretty-boy charm, definitely wasn’t reality. People didn’t volunteer sensitive information like that on a first date.

“And she’s dangerous, obviously. I shouldn’t be risking myself,” Asa added. “And I think she and Denji are… something? I mean, I can’t imagine what she even sees in him. He’s an idiot. Like, objectively.”

Yoshida stared at her. Asa cleared her throat.

“Anyway,” she said stiffly, “you’re around Denji all the time. Are they dating? Does she like him?”

She brushed an invisible speck off her skirt trying to look casual.

“Because if she likes someone like him, that means her taste is awful,” Asa said, shrugging too fast. “And I'm obviously a step up. Which means I could, I mean, if I cared, compete. Hypothetically. For the sake of reconnaissance.”

Yoshida gave her a smirk that made her want to crawl into a sewer grate.

“Okay, whatever. Look.” She unlocked her phone and immediately flushed when the screen opened to the image of Reze's delicate collarbones. She quickly swiped to center it to the map and shoved the phone into Yoshida's face.

“Those yellow dots, I think, are where she's going to strike next. And these red dots—here, here, and here—” her fingers rapidly swiped through the phone. “Meguro Station. Shinagawa’s Konan Exit. Sangenjaya. All of these places got hit in the last month.”

He leaned in, eyes squinting in a look of pensive concentration. Asa watched him carefully. His brows knit together in thought.

“Interesting,” he whispered.

Asa’s back straightened. Okay. Yes. Good! He finally understood the gravity of the situation. Obviously he would. He was a devil hunter, after all. Highly perceptive and one of the top students in all of Japan. She knew he wasn’t just a pretty face. People were too shallow about him. They didn’t respect his actual capabilities, but she did.

They were going to get to the bottom of this and Asa was going to be vindicated.

He nodded solemnly, as though he’d reached a profound conclusion, and reached toward her phone with a deliberate little pinch gesture.

He zoomed.

Then—tap tap.

A bright red heart animation with tiny confettis flying out bloomed on the screen, and then faded away.

There was the weirdest guttural sound effect that played with it. But then Asa realized she was making the sound of a dying ox gargling in its last throes from the back of her throat herself.

No no no no no.

Asa quickly double tapped the screen to remove the heart.

Wait, no. That was even more suspicious.

She double tapped again and put the heart back. Her finger hovered, just barely touching the screen, as she agonized on whether to commit to the like or not.

“Ask her out.” Yoshida said with a smile, and then stood up.

She spun around, already geared up to chew him out but he was already gone. Vanished into thin air. Goddamn annoying cryptid of a man.

She felt lightheaded. The heart sat there on her screen, bright red and accusatory. The phone screen faded to black on idle time out, leaving only her face reflected back at her—eyes blown wide and mouth slack like a stunned fish.

Reze was going to think she was a weirdo stalker. Sitting here, liking a photo from… She unlocked the phone and squinted at the timestamp on the screen, over a month ago!? She shot up so fast the bench scraped against the vending machine with a horrible metallic screech. The fat bird on top fluffed up and squawked at her offended. Asa didn’t have time to apologize. She was already power-walking away.

She was five-steps in when she glanced over at the track, and her stomach dropped. Across the field, Reze was waving at her, smiling as she made her way running directly towards her.

“Oh no. No, no, no—” Asa hissed under her breath as she picked up speed, hamstrings, thighs, and calves protesting as her power-walk turned into a trembling jog

She risked a glance back. Reze had somehow closed the distance by half.

“That’s not physically possible,” Asa muttered, legs shuffling faster. The soles of her shoes betrayed her immediately. Her toe snagged on floor and she lurched forward, arms flailing as the entire world tilted and she braced for impact.

It never came.

Strong arms caught her mid-collapse, stopping her inches before her face would’ve plowed into the gravel. Asa dangled there like a freshly netted fish. She turned head and stared up wide-eyed at bright and green concerned eyes.

“Asa! Are you okay?” Reze asked, breath perfectly steady despite having seemingly teleported across an entire athletic field.

A scratchy little inhale scraped out of Asa’s throat as her soul fled her body.

Reze gently set her upright, hands warm on Asa’s elbows. “You were walking really fast. I was trying to catch up!”

“C-catch up?” Asa croaked. “To me?”

Her brain was still trying to process the fact that Reze was unbelievably close and touching her and looking directly into her eyes.

“Yeah! You’re pretty fast.” Reze smiled at her and Asa felt like she was on the verge of a heart attack. The warmth of Reze’s hands left hers and Asa wasn’t sure if she was more disappointed at the loss, or relieved that she could finally breathe again.

“It wasn’t on purpose. My thumb slipped,” Asa blurted.

Reze blinked. “I… don’t follow? Yoshida said you needed help with a project? Something about an interview? Or citations? I didn’t totally get it, but he said you were stressed.”

“He said what?” Asa yelped, voice cracking.

“Do you still want to work on it together? Just give me a couple of minutes to change, and I’m free.” Reze tilted her head, all sincerity, then frowned. “You do seem really stressed out.”

Asa opened her mouth but nothing came out.

Reze leaned in slightly, worried. “Asa?”

“I— Yeah. Okay. Sure.” She felt like she had no control over the words coming out of her mouth.

“Perfect!” Reze clapped her hands enthusiastically.

Nothing was particularly embarrassing about Asa’s room. Small and cramped. A narrow bed pressed against the wall, a cheap desk in the middle of the room, a secondhand bookshelf doing its best not to collapse under the sheer weight of all her textbooks and paperbacks.

And yet, despite the dullness of it all, it became mortifying the moment Reze stepped inside.

“Wow,” Reze said, peering around. “It’s so neat.”

It was not neat. Asa had just shoved all the random junk littered around her floor into a pile in her closet thirty seconds before they walked in.

“It’s pretty normal,” Asa said stiffly. “I mean, it just looks like a regular room.”

Reze laughed, soft and amused. “Well, my place is a disaster,” she admitted. “I’d be too scared to let anyone from class see it. They’d call a health inspector on me.”

Asa’s brain struggled to reconcile the idea of Reze being messy. She tried to picture it and got as far as a single hair out of place before her imagination gave up.

They sat across each other at the desk. Too close. Or not close enough. Asa couldn’t decide. Her heartbeat went a mile a minute, her mind desperately scrambling for an excuse. Damn you, Yoshida.

Asa pulled out a notebook. “So, you lived abroad right? I… need your perspective.”

Reze rested her chin on her hand, elbow propped casually on the desk. “I’m happy to help.”

Asa’s pulse thudded uncomfortably. “Let’s start with public places. How people use them differently.”

“That’s easy,” Reze said. “People back home are louder.”

Asa wrote that down. “Louder how?”

“Just louder. Talking. Everything. Everyone takes up more space.” Reze gestured loosely. “Here, even when it’s crowded, everyone kind of fits together like puzzle pieces. And people are so polite.”

“You seem to fit in just fine.” Asa said. She pretended to focus on her notes, anything to avoid looking directly at Reze. “How long have you lived here?”

“Mm… close to a year?”

“But you only transferred to our school two months ago?” Asa asked.

“My papers took a while to process.” Reze said. “Which class is this for again?”

“I’m doing a—uh.” Asa stumbled for something. “A glimpse on Global Culture. For the… school paper. I needed someone with international insight.”

Reze folded her arms on the table, leaning in. “And you chose me?”

“You qualified,” Asa said too quickly. “For the assignment.”

“Well.” A smile curved at the corner of Reze’s mouth. “I’m honored.”

The smile slid cleanly past Asa’s ribs and stabbed her somewhere near the lungs. Reze’s gaze drifted across the room, lingering on the bookshelf with a quiet curiosity.

“You know, I always wondered what your room looked like.”

“Why?” Asa stared, stunned. Why on earth would Reze have thought about her room? She wasn’t someone people noticed, let alone someone whose furniture layout you’d imagine.

“You have this whole mysterious, aloof vibe at school,” Reze said lightly. “I figured your room would reflect it. And it kind of does. It’s very… you.”

“It’s just a room.”

Reze hummed. “Maybe. But inviting someone into your room is intimate, isn’t it? We could’ve met at a café or something.”

Asa’s mouth went dry. She hadn’t exactly thought this through. Between scrambling for a fake assignment and trying not to implode in front of Reze, her brain had defaulted to the worst possible plan: bring the suspect directly into her private space. Brilliant, Asa.

Asa swallowed hard. “I didn’t think you’d actually say yes,” she admitted before she could stop the words tumbling out of her mouth. Her ears burned. “I mean—why would you?”

Reze leaned in slightly, eyes warm. “You asked,” she said.

Asa steadied her notebook. “Also—I mean—for this cultural assignment, the interview works better in private, I think. In public, you always feel overheard. And being alone with someone just… helps one open up and reveal things they tend to not say out loud.”

She realized too late what she’d implied. Reze’s brows lifted, amused. “Interesting. And what has my being here revealed so far?”

Asa’s throat bobbed.

“That your being here is… highly disruptive to the journalism process,” she managed.

Reze laughed quietly. “Is that so?”

Asa’s pulse roared in her ears. Yes, her body screamed. Very much so.

“You’re distracting in general,” she muttered. “I mean—not you specifically, just—people like you. In general. Who smile. And talk. The way you do. And you’re a little too perceptive.” She stabbed her pen into the notebook. “Anyway. Moving on.”

Reze looked genuinely curious now, not teasing. “And that’s distracting?”

“I’m not used to being noticed.”

Reze’s gaze softened. It made Asa’s stomach twist in an entirely new way.

“How about we fix that,” Reze murmured. “Exposure therapy. If it’s a Global Culture interview shouldn’t we be comparing notes, shouldn’t I be getting to know you as well?”

“No, that’s alright. I’m not very interesting,” Asa said quickly, flustered. The entire point of her having Reze here was doing a complete one-eighty on her.

“But you are though,” Reze said quietly. Her index and middle finger walked across the desk toward Asa.

“You don’t buy what everyone else does,” she murmured as the little hand approached her notebook. “And that makes you…” She tapped the end of Asa’s pencil once, smiling. "Very interesting."

Asa swallowed. “That’s not what the assignment—”

Reze tilted her head, studying her. “Asa,” she said gently, “you write poems, right?”

Asa jerked back a little. “What? I—sometimes—how do you know?”

“At the school festival,” Reze said. “There were student tables. I picked up a poetry book because the title caught my eye.” Her eyes flicked past Asa’s shoulder spotting it immediately. “That one.”

Asa followed the line of her finger. There it was. A thin, stapled embarrassment she’d hidden between textbooks. Her face went hot.

“You read that?” Asa whispered.

“Mm.” She stood up and drifted toward the bookshelf, picking up Asa’s copy from the shelf without asking, flipping through the pages softly. “I liked it. I have my own copy at home.”

“You have your own copy?” Asa asked, horrified.

“Yeah. I bought it at the festival.” Reze’s voice dipped, warm. “It felt like someone thinking out loud. It was really nice.”

Nice.

“You sounded like…” Reze paused, searching. “Like you were mad at everything, but also trying really hard not to care. It was kind of cute, if not concerning, but also relatable.”

Cute.

Her heart thundered in her ears. This was terrible. Her face was so hot it felt like it might melt clean off her skull.

She slapped her hand on the table, the sharp thud making Reze jump.

“Okay—next question!” she blurted. Her voice came out too high. “Hypothetically, if you were to bomb the greater Tokyo metropolitan area, where would you target and why?”

Reze blinked at her.

“I—” Reze started, before she went completely still, pupils narrowing. Her gaze slid past Asa, to the window. Asa turned to look.

Outside, perched on the narrow railing, was the same scruffy bird from the field bench. Or one of its equally disreputable cousins. It stared straight into the room, beady spiral orange eyes eerily sharp. Then it let out a long, grating screech.

Asa looked back at Reze.

Her face emptied of expression. Then she smiled, too quickly.

“Ah! Sorry,” Reze said. “I just remembered—I have work.”

The bird on the railing fluffed its wings. Then took off in a burst of motion, disappearing into the sky.

Asa blinked. “Work?”

“Yeah. I promised my boss I’d come in if they were short-staffed tonight.” She glanced at the clock on the wall that had definitely not moved that much. “And, ah, they just texted. So, I should go.”

Asa looked at the clock. Then at Reze’s blank phone screen. “They didn’t—”

“I had fun,” Reze added, softer. “Talking. And… just hanging out.” Her gaze lingered on Asa’s face. “Let’s do it again sometime?”

The door clicked shut behind Reze. Asa sat there, heart still jackhammering, staring at the empty space where Reze had stood.

Chapter Text

Reze had been missing from school for a week now.

She’d never disappeared this long before. Usually she’d vanish for a couple of hours at most, slipping out and materializing again before the final bell, not a single hair out of place.

A whole week was new, and it was—much to Asa’s displeasure—starting to worry her. She chewed on her lower lip as she stared at her phone’s screen. Her one-sided chat with Reze stared back: more than ten consecutive messages, neatly stacked, all from her, with increasingly unhinged desperation, and zero replies.

A documented collapse of her rational mind.

Asa smacked her phone lightly against her forehead and groaned. Why did she even care? All because Reze acknowledged her poetry book? Have some damn standards, Asa.

The metal door to the rooftops creaked open.

“Yo.” Denji stepped out. “You sounded like you were gonna hurl or something.”

“I am perfectly fine,” Asa said, head pillowed on her elbows as she stared at the concrete, voice flat.

“I can’t find Yoshida.” Asa took a deep breath. “—and… I needed someone who knows her because she just vanished out of thin air and I sent her like a million messages and I don’t even get a seen!? The nerve of her ignoring me after I express concern for her and let her invade my privacy going through my room and rifling through my shelf and buying my—ugh!”

She dragged both hands through her hair like she wanted to tear it out by the roots.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Denji asked. He wandered over and leaned against the railing

“Reze.”

“You been texting her? She’s pretty bad at responding.”

“Erm. Not texts.” Asa stared at the ground. She scuffed the toe of her shoe against the concrete. “I don’t have her number. I’ve been messaging her on Instagram,” she mumbled.

Denji’s brows pulled together. “Reze doesn’t do social media.”

Asa’s head snapped up, scowling at him. “Uh, yeah she does. What the hell is this then?” She shoved her phone at him.

Denji squinted. “Oh. Hah. That?” He jabbed a thumb at his chest. “That’s mine.”

Asa stared. “What.”

“Pretty good photos, eh?” he added proudly.

“What!?” Asa straightened. “Why are you catfishing as Reze?”

“I’m not catfishing,” Denji said, affronted. “That’s just me practicing photography. She’s, like, stupidly photogenic, and I’ve been trying to practice lighting, and I asked and she said sure.”

“You’re... into photography?”

“Yeah, good shots eh?” Denji puffed up grinning, all sharp teeth and smugness. “I’ve been studying a lot of movies.”

Asa opened her mouth, then decided she didn’t have it in her to argue. “I… never pegged you as the type.”

He shrugged. “My old boss was really big into movies. She was a massive psychopath, but I really got into movies cuz of her so, y'know.”

He looked almost melancholic. His eyes had gone dim and unfocused, like he’d drifted somewhere he didn’t usually let himself go. It was the first time Asa had ever seen that look on him. 

“Your captions are stupid.” Asa said.

Denji frowned. “But… Reze wrote those.” He paused, then shrugged. “Anyway. Don’t worry. I can show her the missed messages.”

“NO! GOD—NO!” Asa practically jumped at him. “Do NOT show her those! Don’t even think about reading them!”

He swiped through the app on his phone. “Why? They’re kinda sweet—”

“They are not sweet,” Asa snapped, slapping the phone away from his hand. “They’re deranged. I wasn’t myself when I sent them. I think I was in some sort of fugue state.”

“Alright, jeez,” he muttered, stooping to grab the phone and brushing it off on his pants. “Don’t get why you’re so against her.”

“I’m not against Reze,” Asa insisted. “I like her a decent, perfectly fine amount. Besides, she’s popular enough as it is.”

“I dunno.” Denji squinted at her. “Didn’t she read your poem-book-thing? She doesn’t do that for everyone. She even asked me if she should buy a second copy so it wouldn’t get worn. I told her that’s stupid but she did it anyway.”

“What?” Asa’s head snapped toward him.

“Yeah. She’s like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like… I dunno!” Denji scratched the back of his neck, frustrated. “Look, I don’t get your thing with her, but I feel like I gotta stick up for her. We’ve—she’s just been through a lot, okay? People think she’s perfect but she’s not. Her cooking sucks, she’s messy, she’s stubborn as hell, she’s reckless, she gets weird and quiet sometimes, and I think she could use more people she genuinely likes in her life, and she liked your dorky little book enough to buy two copies.”

“They’re not dorky,” Asa snapped, turning to glare at him. “It’s an artist pouring their soul into words, it’s a window into our—anyway that’s not the point! I mean how was I supposed to know she even—she didn’t—!”

Denji grinned at her. “Oh yeah. You got it bad. It’s fine. I been there.”

Asa mumbled something incomprehensible in annoyance.

“And how are you so calm? You’re not even worried she’s gone?”

“Nah.” Denji kicked a pebble. “She’s strong. And she doesn't like to be hovered over. But she always comes back.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Cuz she always has. Ever since she came back the first time.”

The way he said it was simple, almost careless. Yet it carried the weight of someone who trusted without hesitation. Asa wondered what it felt like to have that kind of steadfast belief, to have someone hold your name with such easy certainty.

“And why are you so… okay with this? Aren’t you two…" she gestured vaguely. "I don't know."

“Me and Reze? Yeah, we’re solid.”

He hesitated, then added, “And, uh… she talked to me. About you. Not a big thing. Just… ‘Hey, is this weird?’”

Asa’s cheeks flared. Reze came to talk to him about her? The thought made her lightheaded. “Oh. I mean… Isn’t it?”

Denji huffed a breath. “It’s just… when you grow up with nothin’, you’re kinda just grateful for having anything special, y’know? And this doesn’t really… bother me.”

He glanced her way.

"If she likes you too, that’s cool. Doesn’t take anything away from me," he added, simple and sincere.

“Don’t worry,” he said, rolling his shoulders, “She’ll be back. She probably just… has stuff.”

“What stuff?” Asa growled. “Girls don’t normally just vanish for a week. I know there's something going on.”

"I mean... she's allowed to have hobbies…?" Denji said.

Asa’s eyes narrowed.

“What aren’t you telling me?” She pressed, stepping closer. “Reze goes missing whenever something explodes in the city. I've noticed Yoshida and Mifune disappearing sometimes on the exact same days. And in this venn diagram of whatever the hell is going on, you're in the center of it. I’m not stupid.”

Denji’s jaw clicked shut, looking uncomfortable with the interrogation.

“Have you been keeping tabs on everyone?” Denji asked. “Asa, seriously. You shouldn’t be getting mixed up in this.”

“Mixed up in what?”

“You’re already poking around too much,” Denji said, voice lowering. “You’re following Reze. You’re asking dangerous questions. Yoshida said you’ve got a crime map now? You can’t—”

Asa stiffened. “So Reze is linked to the explosions and bombings.”

"I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to. And you're the idiot who posted a map for the internet to see. Idiot!”

"It was a really good photo! I had to post it! And nobody’s snooping around zooming into backgrounds of Reze thirst traps thinking about bombs like you are!" Denji barked back.

He rubbed the back of his neck, muttering curses. He looked torn between staying loyal and stopping Asa from digging a deeper hole for herself.

Denji sagged.

“Fine,” he said, defeated. “I’ll tell you the real reason she disappears. But you need to stay out of this and leave it to Public Safety.”

Asa sighed. Finally, they were getting somewhere.

“Promise me you'll stay out of it if I tell you," he said.

"I promise. Now out with it!"

Denji sighed.

“The reason Reze keeps disappearing…” His fingers clenched the railing. “Is because she’s trying to keep my cover and…”

Asa leaned forward in anticipation. Denji closed his eyes.

“I’m… Chainsaw Man.”

A hush swallowed the rooftop as Denji waited, chest puffed slightly. The statement settled there between them. He opened one eye, waiting for a reaction.

“Who the hell,” Asa snarled. “Is Chainsaw Man!?”

Denji’s jaw dropped. His heroic bravado shrivelled.

"I don't have time for this!" Asa stormed off towards the door leading to the stairwell, slamming it open. “If you’re not going to help me I’m going to get to the bottom of this myself!”

Asa had all but given up.

She’d spent the entire week looking for Reze. She tracked absences, hovered near offices, checked the track field and back gates, scanned reflections and crowds like she might spot that stupid choker materializing out of thin air.

She practically knew Reze’s routines better than her own now and had nothing to show for it but unanswered questions and a growing knot under her ribs.

By the end of the week, she told herself she was done.

Truly, officially, undoubtedly done.

She would not look for Reze anymore. She would move on with her life.

She would stop humiliating herself over a girl who had better things to do than send a simple a message. Not that Reze owed her anything. She’d only read Asa’s poetry, crossed a few personal boundaries, and left her feeling stupidly exposed and seen for the first time. No big deal.

Disappearing for a week without telling anyone was extremely healthy behavior apparently. Asa was the weird one for being concerned.

Shame on her for even caring.

“And she better not show up today,” Asa muttered as she yanked her shoe locker open. Her indoor shoes tumbled out and hit the floor with a slap. She crouched, snatched one up, and jammed her foot into it with far too much force, bending down to tie the shoelace. “Because I don’t care. I am emotionally unavailable, detached, and—”

A soft stir of air brushed the back of her neck.

“Boo.”

Her hand jolted and the bow she had just tied immediately unraveled. She shot upright so fast she nearly slammed her head on the opened locker door.

Reze was leaning against the next locker down, arms folded, eyes bright like she hadn’t vanished off the face of the earth for two weeks without explanation.

“Asa,” she said, smiling.

Her heart lurched into her throat. Relief surged through Asa so fast it made her lightheaded.

She caught herself staring and schooled her expression flat. “You’re back.”

“Mm.” Reze tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Her smile didn’t falter, but her gaze did slightly, turning away from Asa’s prying and questioning eyes. “Yeah.”

“You missed two weeks of school.”

“I was… out sick.”

The relief collapsed in on itself, replaced by anger—hot and jittery, and threaded with embarrassment at herself for having felt anything else.

“Of course.” Asa scoffed. “And absolutely no one knew where you were because you were ‘out sick’.”

“You were looking for me?” Reze blinked in surprise.

“I missed my deadline for the assignment,” Asa snapped, slamming the locker door shut harder than necessary. “My subject went missing.”

Reze’s lips twitched. “I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you.”

“Whatever. I don’t care.” It came out sharper than she meant.

Reze studied her more closely. Something complicated flickered behind her eyes, then smoothed away.

“Well,” she said gently, pushing off the locker and stepping closer, “you sounded like you were worried. Did you miss me?”

Asa bent down again, retreating into the simple task of tying her half-finished shoelace, putting distance between them where she could.

“No,” she said, concentrating on the loop of the lace. “Of course not.”

Reze opened her mouth, then seemed to reconsider.

“I really am sorry,” she said instead, the teasing edge gone. “I didn’t mean to make things harder for you.”

The sincerity threw Asa off balance more than any flirting Reze had thrown her way could. She tightened the knot on her shoe until her fingers stung.

“You didn’t,” she muttered.

“I would’ve told you I was going to be gone,” Reze added quietly. “If I could have.”

Asa refused to look up. She finished tying one shoe and moved on to the other.

“You don’t owe me anything,” Asa said stiffly. “We were just doing a stupid paper. You’re not mine to keep track of.”

She stared at her dangling, half-tied laces, waiting for another joke, or another excuse, Instead, a different pair of shoes stepped into her vision.

“Reze-senpai, welcome back,” a sing-song voice chimed.

Asa looked up.

Fumiko had draped herself along Reze’s side. Her chin rested in the nook of Reze’s shoulder, posture relaxed and familiar, one finger idly tracing the edge of the small circular pendant on Reze’s choker.

She smiled at Asa over Reze’s shoulder, a slow, satisfied curl of lips.

Asa watched in fascination as Reze’s face went blank for a beat. The easy softness drained, then it sharpened smoothly into something more controlled.

“Fumiko-senpai,” Reze said, voice sugary-sweet despite the coldness that her smile implied. “I’m just catching up on what I missed.”

She gently moved Fumiko’s hand away from her shoulder and stepped back half a pace, turning her body so she faced Fumiko directly. The movement placed Reze’s back squarely toward Asa, cutting her clean out of the conversation.

Fumiko straightened in response, mirroring the shift. Their faces were close enough that their breath might mingle. Their interaction crackled with something sharp and dangerous.

Asa couldn’t tell if they were seconds away from kissing or stabbing each other.

She ducked her head and pretended to fuss with her shoe again, fingers picking at an already-perfect knot. Her ears strained to catch every word.

“Mmm.” Fumiko purred. “Yoshida tells me you’re taking on a new focus.”

Her eyes slid to Asa, lingering. “Why do you get all the exciting prospects?”

“Not true,” Reze replied smoothly. “I get the boring ones. They save the exciting assignments for Fumiko-senpai. You’re clearly more capable.”

“Haaa.” Fumiko pouted, exaggerated and knowing. “There you go again.”

She leaned a little closer. “All these sweet words, and yet you’ve turned me down how many times now?” Her smile tilted. “You really don’t make it easy for me to take the hint.”

Asa choked very quietly on her own breath. Fumiko noticed and a small smirk curled at her lips.

“And don’t pretend this one’s boring.” Her voice dipped further, carrying a foxlike amusement. “If anything, I’d have thought your track record would’ve taught you to keep a little emotional distance by now, senpai.”

Asa glanced up, noticing the slight way Reze froze up.

“Anyway, they wanted me to give you a heads up,” Fumiko said before Reze could answer. She leaned in closer to Reze—close enough to just be short of inappropriate—and murmured into her ear. As she did so, her eyes slid sideways to Asa with a spark of wicked amusement that made Asa’s scalp prickle.

Then Fumiko straightened, smile fixed in place, and bent slightly to peer around Reze at Asa.

“Nice meeting you, Mitaka-senpai,” she said, tossing a wink.

Fumiko skipped off, humming, leaving Reze standing and Asa staring dumbly tied in a knot of confusion. She looked to Reze’s back, tense and impossible to read.

She realized she’d tied her shoe into a frantic, unfixable knot. Asa yanked at it, gave up halfway, and shoved her foot into the shoe anyway. She stood and circled around until she was in front of Reze again.

“What the hell was that?” she demanded.

Reze’s head was ducked, bangs veiling her eyes. She let out a small, tight breath and lifted her gaze, looking tired.

“We’re going to be late,” she murmured.

She brushed past Asa, the fabric of her sleeve grazing Asa’s hand, and started down the corridor. After a second, she glanced back and gestured with her chin.

Asa bristled. She hurried after Reze irritation bubbling up.

“Oh no you don’t,” Asa snapped, steps quickening to match Reze’s. “I’m done being treated like an idiot. Something’s clearly happening, I could have brushed it off before, but for some reason it involves me now.”

Reze slowed. The hallway had thinned around them. Most of the other students had already funneled into classrooms.

“Asa,” Reze said quietly. “Not here.”

“No.” Asa didn’t lower her voice. “You don’t get to do this. Disappear, and come back with half-answers, and drag me into whatever the hell was happening back there with Fumiko.”

Reze turned fully this time, and stepped closer, dropping her voice. “I’ll explain,” she said. “Later. Somewhere more private.”

Her eyes held Asa’s. Something warm and worried and threaded with guilt swam there.

“I promise,” Reze said.

Asa hated how easily convinced she was by that simple statement. The bell shrieked overhead.

She exhaled heavily. “Fine,” she said. “But I am not dropping this.”

By the time they got to class, everyone was already seated. Everyones bags tucked away, and their notebooks out. The hum of conversation dimmed as the door slid open.

Tanaka-sensei looked up from his attendance sheet. His eyes landed on Reze and lit up. “Ah, Reze. Good to see you back and feeling better.”

“Sorry we’re late,” Reze said, bowing her head slightly, all cheer and polish yet again. “I lost track of time.”

Tanaka laughed indulgently. “No problem, no problem. Take your seats, quickly now. We have an important project to start today.”

Denji, slouched in his chair, peered at them curiously. His gaze did a quick little hop from Reze, to Asa. His brows rose the slightest bit, and then he waggled them insufferably.

Asa scowled at him.

Reze passed his desk and, without breaking stride, flicked him lightly on the forehead. Denji yelped under his breath, rubbing the spot with exaggerated injury as they took their seats.

Asa sank into her seat, jaw tight. Fine. Class. Normal things. Whatever. They could unpack everything later as promised.

Tanaka-sensei cleared his throat.

The room quieted and the conversations tapered off. He tapped the board twice with his chalk, the sound crisp and cheerful.

“Alright, everyone, settle down,” he said. “Today I’ll be introducing your term project.”

He turned and began to write. Large, careful characters appeared first in Japanese, then beneath them, smaller English letters.

Asa followed along absentmindedly.

“This year, we’re collaborating with the school newspaper for a special feature.” He stepped back.

Global Culture.

Her pencil paused.

Connecting Our Worlds And Our Stories

Asa gawked at the board.

Her eyes flicked sideways to Reze before she could stop herself.

Reze was sitting perfectly straight, gaze forward, hands folded neatly on her desk. The perfect model student. But there, barely perceptible, was the faintest curl at the corner of her mouth.

Oh, you have got to be kidding me.

“You’ll work in pairs,” Tanaka-sensei continued, oblivious, “to explore a facet of global culture that interests you. Interviews, photography, personal narratives—anything that helps express your theme.”

Each word felt increasingly targeted.

“The newspaper will be publishing selected pieces at the end of term, so originality is encouraged.”

The chalk squeaked again as Tanaka-sensei circled the title.

“And as I mentioned,” he said brightly, “interviews are strongly encouraged—especially if you have access to classmates with international backgrounds or unique perspectives. That kind of firsthand insight can be very compelling.”

Asa felt heat crawl up her neck, spreading beneath her collar like a rash.

She shot Reze a look.

Reze finally turned her head. Their eyes met. The corners of Reze’s eyes crinkled. The amusement there was unmistakable now, soft and knowing and deeply unfair and humiliating.

Asa frowned at her, cheeks burning.

Tanaka-sensei clapped his hands. “Now. I’ll be assigning partners alphabetically so—”

A hand rose before he could finish.

“Sensei,” Reze said.

He beamed. “Yes, Reze?”

“I’d like to choose my partner,” she said, voice clear and polite.

Tanaka-sensei hesitated only a moment. “Well… I suppose that’s fine, within reason.”

Reze didn’t hesitate.

“Mitaka,” she said. “I want her.”

The room went very quiet.

Asa’s face went incandescent.

She could feel every single eye in the classroom snap toward her, drilling into her skull. A girl in the front row turned around so fast her ponytail whipped the boy behind her in the face. From the corner of her eye, she could see Denji watching them with detached amusement.

Tanaka-sensei looked towards the entire class, saw no obvious objection, and spread his hands. “Well, if Asa has no problem with it…”

Chairs creaked and bodies turned. The class swiveled toward her expectantly.

Asa sweated.

“Fine,” she managed, voice thin.

Reze’s smile widened.