Work Text:
Hyakki Gakuen’s campus was dressed in its usual late–spring hush: a silence so thick it clung to the halls like the remnants of a dream. The banners for graduation fluttered with the same timid excitement the students carried in their chests, but inside the empty homeroom of Class 4–4, Abe Haruaki stood alone, hugging a small mandogra—his beloved little Marshmallow—tightly to his chest.
He had arrived early. Much earlier than any teacher normally would.
But today… today he needed the silence.
He needed to prepare his heart.
There was something he had to tell himself again and again:
Don’t believe anything he says. Not Sano-kun. Not that boy. Not ever.
Haruaki forced a smile—the kind he always wore, bright and sunshine-like, the kind that made even the hostile youkai students relax.
But today, that smile looked brittle, faded at the edges, like a wilted flower.
His vermilion eyes, normally sparkling with enthusiasm, were murky with unshed tears he refused to let fall.
Marshmallow made a soft “Seimei Kun…” sound against his chest.
“Marshmallow… I know,” Haruaki whispered. “I shouldn’t be sad. Today is supposed to be happy…”
But his heart wouldn’t stop aching.
After all, today was the last day.
The last day he would see him.
The boy he had admired in secret.
The boy who hated him more than anyone.
The boy who—according to the message sent the night before—wanted to “talk” to him privately before the ceremony.
Sano Mikoto.
Sano Mikoto had never liked him.
No—despised would be more accurate.
From the very first day Haruaki became their homeroom teacher, the handsome, sharp-tongued, blonde-haired boy looked at him as if he were something that had crawled out of a swamp.
Haruaki never understood why.
He only remembered the first kick.
He had been standing by the classroom door, greeting the students with a smile, when Sano passed by. Without warning, the boy jabbed him in the shin with his heel—not hard enough to send him flying, but enough to make him yelp and clutch the doorframe for balance.
“A-ah—S-Sano-kun—”
“Don’t stand in the way, ugly teacher,” Sano had muttered, not even bothering to hide his disgust.
That became the beginning of a long, painful routine.
Every day, without missing a beat, Sano Mikoto made it clear that he had no patience for Haruaki’s existence.
“Don’t come near me.”
“Stop grinning like an idiot.”
“Why do you talk so much?”
“Those stupid sailor uniforms—are you sick in the head?”
“Get rid of them. They’re disgusting.”
“Don’t call me affectionately! You’re older. It’s creepy.”
“Stay away from Mame. He is better off, not associating with a wuss like you.”
Whenever Haruaki mentioned anything about his collection of sailor uniforms—their history, the different sleeve cuts, the adorable embroidery styles—Sano’s temper would explode instantly. He’d throw chalk at him. Or a shoe. Or simply punch him in the face before walking off with that cold, irritated face.
Haruaki tried to laugh it off at first.
He always had been an optimist, after all.
“He’s a bit rough but a good kid deep down,” he would mutter.
But the truth was, every insult sank into him like a needle.
Every shove reminded him that he meant nothing.
Every glare told him to fade away.
Still, Haruaki continued smiling. He had to.
He was the teacher.
And besides… he genuinely liked the boy.
How could he not?
Sano Mikoto was brilliant, fierce, quick-witted, terrifyingly talented, and deeply devoted to his best friend, Maizuka Mamekichi and was kind to others. The affection Sano poured toward Mame was something Haruaki could only admire from afar. Loyalty like that was rare—even among youkai.
But Haruaki knew he was merely an annoyance.
A buzzing insect.
Something Sano swatted away whenever he got too close.
He remembered the day he tried to thank Sano for staying behind to help clean the classroom after Mame was sick.
“Sano-kun, thank you—”
“Shut up,” Sano snapped and kicked him behind the knee. Haruaki collapsed onto the floor with an embarrassing squeak.
“You’re too close. Go home early if you have that much free time, Disgusting Seimei.”
Haruaki had laughed it off.
He always laughed it off.
Years passed like that.
Each day, Haruaki wondered why Sano seemed to hate him more than the others.
He had been hit by many students, mocked by even more—but Sano Mikoto’s dislike felt personal. Deep. Venomous.
Yet every time Haruaki felt the sting of tears, he would bury his face in Marshmallow, whispering:
“It’s fine. It’s fine. Teachers aren’t allowed to be selfish. Besides… he’ll graduate someday.”
And that day had finally come.
A footstep echoed behind him.
Haruaki flinched.
No.
It couldn’t be him this early, right?
When he turned around—he froze.
Standing in the doorway, tall enough that the sunlight framed his silhouette like something out of a painting, was Sano Mikoto.
Not the angry, scowling boy he remembered.
But a grown young man—broad-shouldered, elegant, strikingly handsome.
His bleach blonde hair fell over his forehead in a way that made his aquamarine eyes seem deeper, quieter, almost… pained.
He had surpassed Haruaki in height long ago, but today the difference felt unbearably intimidating.
Haruaki’s heart clenched.
Sano looked at him—not with irritation, but with something unfamiliar, something heavy… and frighteningly gentle.
Haruaki gripped Marshmallow tighter.
“S-Sano-kun… g-good morning…”
His voice cracked.
Sano didn’t answer at first.
He simply walked forward… step by slow, deliberate step.
Until there was barely a breath of space left between them.
Haruaki squeezed his eyes shut, bracing himself for an insult.
Or a punch.
Or maybe Sano would sneer at him again, call him stupid, call him creepy, tell him to stop looking at him with those eyes—
“Haruaki.”
Haruaki flinched violently.
Sano had never called his name like that.
Quiet.
Steady.
Almost trembling.
“Haruaki,” Sano repeated, “I need to tell you something before I graduate.”
The mandogra in Haruaki’s arms whimpered softly.
Haruaki’s voice was barely a whisper.
“Please… don’t joke with me today… Sano-kun. I don’t think… I can take it.”
Sano’s expression twisted—as if he were the one hurting.
“I’m not joking.”
“S-Sano-kun, please,” Haruaki begged, his vermilion eyes filling up again. “Don’t say anything cruel today. I… I’ll cry if you do. I really will.”
Haruaki’s smile trembled, breaking at the corners.
He looked so small, so defeated, clutching Marshmallow like a lifeline.
He truly believed it.
He truly believed Sano could never love him.
Because the boy he loved had spent years hurting him.
And the man before him now—
the one whose voice shook as he finally whispered:
“Seimei… I’m in love with you.”
—couldn’t possibly be real.
Haruaki’s tears overflowed.
For the first time in his career, he didn’t even try to smile.
“Please… don’t lie to me, Sano-kun…” he whispered through shaking breaths. “I know I’m annoying… older… pathetic… I know you’ve always hated me…”
Sano’s eyes widened with anguish.
“Haruaki—”
“There’s no way… a boy like you… could ever fall in love with someone like me.”
And with those broken words, Haruaki bowed his head—
—completely unaware that the young man standing before him
had spent all those years hurting him
because he couldn’t handle how deeply, desperately, disastrously he loved him.
For a long, suspended moment, Sano Mikoto did not breathe.
Haruaki—
His Seimei—
The person he had watched, chased, avoided, hated himself for loving—
was standing there with tears trembling on his lashes, begging him not to lie.
Begging him not to hurt him again.
Sano’s fingers curled into his palm so tightly his nails cut his skin.
He deserved this.
This fear.
This distrust.
For years, he had been nothing but cruel to the man he loved most.
His voice cracked as he whispered:
“…Seimei… don’t look at me like that. Please.”
But Haruaki only shook his head weakly, clutching Marshmallow to his chest as if it were a shield.
“I-It’s okay, Sano-kun… I don’t blame you. I was always the stupid one… believing you were a good child. I… I thought we were getting closer, you know? Even if just a little.”
“Seimei—”
“But every time, you hit me. Every time you insulted me. Every time you pushed me away.”
He gave a broken smile. “I should have understood… I was nothing more than an annoyance.”
Sano’s heart twisted so violently it made him dizzy.
He couldn’t hold it in.
“…Do you think I don’t remember?” he whispered.
Haruaki blinked, confused.
Sano swallowed hard, his jaw trembling.
“I remember everything, Seimei. Every fucking moment I hurt you.”
His voice trembled—anger, regret, shame all boiling together beneath his skin.
And one by one, the memories crashed over him like waves.
Sano’s hands shook as he spoke.
“That day… on my first year. When you stood by the door and smiled at me like an idiot…”
He squeezed his eyes shut.
“…I kicked you on purpose.”
Haruaki flinched.
His fingers curled into Marshmallow’s fur.
Sano’s voice dropped, quiet and sharp like broken glass.
“You said, ‘Good morning!’ and I panicked. I didn’t expect a teacher to… look at me like that. Like you were happy to see me. No one ever was.”
He met Haruaki’s wide eyes.
“So I kicked you. Because if I didn’t hurt you first, you’d get inside my head.”
Sano’s chest heaved.
“And that time you stayed late to give me extra notes for the exam—”
Haruaki’s lips parted silently. That day was vivid to him.
The classroom had been empty.
Night already settled outside.
Haruaki had waited, worried Sano would fail the test.
He had approached him shyly, carrying a folder of handwritten explanations.
“S-Sano-kun… I prepared these for you.”
His smile was nervous. Hopeful.
“I know you’re smart, but I wanted to help, if I can…”
Sano remembered it too clearly.
He remembered the rush of warmth in his chest—how he hated it.
So he had ripped the pages in half, right in front of Haruaki.
“Don’t pity me,” he’d snapped.
“I don’t need your stupid notes.”
Haruaki had apologized.
Apologized—for helping.
Now Sano swallowed hard.
“…I said that because I didn’t want to admit how much your handwriting made my chest feel… tight. How happy I was that you thought of me.”
He laughed bitterly.
“I’m such a goddamn coward, Seimei.”
Haruaki’s lips trembled.
He looked like he didn’t know where to put his gaze—on Sano, or on the floor, or on the shattered memories between them.
Sano’s voice cracked.
“That day in the staff room… when you were talking nonstop about sailor uniforms.”
He inhaled shakily. “The one you sewed. The one you were so proud of.”
Haruaki winced visibly.
He remembered it.
Too well.
“Seimei,” Sano whispered, “you were glowing. You were talking with sparkles in your eyes—about sleeve hemlines, embroidery, fabric textures—God, you looked so happy.”
Haruaki’s face reddened in shame.
“And I—” Sano’s voice trembled, “I punched you.”
Haruaki lifted his head sharply.
“I…I remember…” he whispered, touching his cheek unconsciously.
Sano dragged a hand through his hair.
“I saw your smile and my brain just—snapped. You were too bright. Too close. Too easy to love. I thought if I let you keep smiling at me like that, I’d never be able to breathe again.”
His voice broke.
“So I hit you… just to make the feeling go away.”
Silence.
A suffocating, trembling silence.
Haruaki whispered:
“…Sano-kun… you really… hated me that much…?”
Sano shook his head violently.
“No! I never hated you! I hated myself!”
The sudden intensity made Haruaki take a step back.
Sano reached out instinctively—but stopped inches away, fingers twitching.
“I hated how you made me feel. How your voice made my heart stutter. How your smile made me jealous of every student who could look at you freely. I hated how much I wanted your attention. How much I wanted you to care for me—like you did for everyone else.”
He broke off, breathing shakily.
“Do you know… how many times I walked behind you in the hallway without calling your name? How many times I stood outside the staff room because I wanted to see you but didn’t know what to say?”
Haruaki stared at him, stunned.
Sano’s voice dropped to a fragile whisper.
“Every time I touched you… every time I kicked you, shoved you, yelled at you… it wasn’t because I despised you.”
His eyes glistened.
“It was because it hurt how much I loved you.”
Haruaki’s breath caught in his chest.
He shook his head, tears falling freely now.
“N-no… no, Sano-kun… that can’t be true… You—you always went to Maizuka-kun… You always looked irritated when you saw me…”
Sano clenched his fists.
“I went to Mame because being near you scared me. I looked irritated because if I let my real feelings show, I would’ve—”
His voice choked, dropping into a hoarse whisper.
“—kissed you in the middle of class.”
Haruaki’s eyes widened in sheer disbelief.
Sano laughed shakily, shoulders trembling.
“You were older… my teacher… someone I wasn’t supposed to touch. So instead of pulling you close, I pushed you away. Because I’m a fucking coward.”
He finally lifted his eyes—raw, open, bleeding emotion.
“I remember every bruise I left on you. Every tear you pretended not to cry. Every time you looked confused because you didn’t know what you did wrong.”
He took a step closer.
“And I remember every time I wished I could take it back.”
Haruaki’s voice was barely audible.
“…Sano-kun… stop… please…”
But Sano didn’t.
He stepped even closer—
close enough that Haruaki’s breath hitched, close enough that the mandogra in Haruaki’s arms trembled.
“Seimei,” Sano whispered, desperate, soft, broken, “I hurt you. I know that. And I can’t erase it.”
His fingers trembled as he finally—finally—touched Haruaki’s hand, so lightly it was barely a breath of contact.
“But I’m begging you… just this once…”
He leaned in, forehead almost touching Haruaki’s.
“Let me tell you the truth I was too afraid to say for three years.”
Haruaki stared at him, eyes full of confusion, fear, longing—
“Sano-kun…?”
Sano’s voice cracked completely.
“…I have been in love with you since the first day I saw you.”
And Haruaki—
—could not speak.
Could not breathe.
Could only tremble, caught between disbelief and the painful hope he had never allowed himself to feel.
For a moment after Sano said those words—
I have been in love with you since the first day I saw you—
the world seemed to freeze.
Haruaki’s lips parted.
No sound came out.
His vermilion eyes trembled, shimmering with disbelief, longing, grief, and something darker—an exhaustion so deep it went straight to the bone.
And then—
“…No…”
Haruaki’s whisper was so soft that even Marshmallow’s little ears twitched.
Sano stiffened.
“…Seimei?”
“No…” Haruaki shook his head again, harder this time. “No, Sano-kun. Stop. Please. Don’t say things like that to me.”
The trembling in his voice increased, as if every syllable were cutting his throat open from the inside.
Sano stepped forward instinctively, but Haruaki took a step back—
—like a frightened animal.
“Seimei—”
“Don’t call me that!” Haruaki snapped, voice suddenly sharp, high, breaking.
Sano froze.
Haruaki pressed a hand over his mouth, mortified by his own outburst—but it didn’t stop the pain from spilling out.
His breath came fast and uneven.
“…I can’t,” he whispered.
“I can’t listen to you anymore, Sano-kun. I can’t.”
“Haruaki—”
“Don’t!”
He hugged Marshmallow tighter—as if the small creature was the only thing keeping him upright.
“Don’t say my name like that… It hurts.”
Sano’s expression shattered.
But Haruaki kept going—
because if he didn’t say it now, he never would.
Because he had spent three years swallowing everything alone.
His voice trembled as he spoke again.
“I’m tired, Sano-kun.”
The words were soft.
But they struck harder than any blow Sano had dealt him.
“Tired…?” Sano whispered, stunned.
Haruaki nodded—slowly, painfully.
“I’m tired of hurting. I’m tired of pretending your cruelty didn’t bother me… I’m tired of lying to myself that maybe… maybe one day, you’d treat me gently.”
His voice cracked.
“I’m done… waiting for things that never came.”
Sano’s breath hitched.
“I didn’t know—”
“Of course you didn’t!” Haruaki burst out. “You never wanted to know!”
Sano flinched.
Haruaki’s eyes overflowed, tears dripping onto Marshmallow’s soft fur.
“You know… I always thought I was… strong enough to handle anything.”
He gave a hollow, trembling laugh.
“Youkai, curses, exploding acts of students—those never scared me.”
Sano stared, incapable of speaking, incapable of breathing.
“But you, Sano-kun…” Haruaki swallowed. “You were the only thing that terrified me.”
Sano’s voice broke.
“…Why?”
“Because I loved you.”
The confession sliced them both open.
Haruaki exhaled shakily.
“I loved you so much… that every insult you threw, every punch you landed, every time you pushed me away—it all felt like I was being stabbed from the inside.”
He forced a smile, weak and warped by agony.
“And I kept telling myself that maybe you were just having a bad day. That maybe you didn’t mean it.”
Sano’s fingers curled into fists.
“I didn’t—”
“You did,” Haruaki whispered.
“You meant every hit. Every kick. You meant every ‘shut up,’ every ‘you’re annoying,’ every ‘I hate teachers like you.’”
Sano’s breath stilled.
Haruaki shook his head slowly.
“Do you know how pathetic it feels… to be older than you… to be your teacher… and yet to be the one who cried like a teenager every night?”
Sano’s eyes widened in horror.
“You cried? Seimei—”
“I always cried,” Haruaki said, smiling heartbreakingly.
“Because I wanted to stop loving you. I really did. I prayed I would stop. I begged myself to stop.”
His fingers tightened around Marshmallow.
“But every time I tried… you would look at me with that bored expression or that irritated glare and… something in me still hoped. Still longed.”
Sano shook his head, voice trembling.
“I never wanted you to—”
“I don’t care what you wanted,” Haruaki said, voice suddenly low, trembling with bitterness and despair.
“What I felt was real. And it exhausted me.”
A silence hung in the air like suffocating fog.
Haruaki wiped his tears with shaking hands.
“I’m tired, Sano-kun. So tired.”
He looked at Sano—
really looked at him—
and it felt like staring at an old wound that had never healed.
“I want to rest,” he whispered.
“I want to move on. I want to stop thinking about you. I want to stop loving you.”
Sano’s expression finally cracked fully.
“Seimei… don’t… please don’t say that…”
But Haruaki only smiled—a sad, hollow smile that made Sano’s knees nearly buckle.
“I may be a masochist, Sano-kun, but…”
His voice dropped into a whisper drenched with resignation—
“the hurt you deliberately inflicted made me feel numb.”
Sano’s breath caught.
Haruaki continued, shaking.
“I wish… I wasn’t ever appointed to this Ghoul School.”
The moment the words left his lips—
Sano’s entire world collapsed.
His vision blurred.
His throat burned.
He looked like someone had ripped open his chest with bare hands.
“Haruaki…” he whispered, voice faint and fractured.
But Haruaki wasn’t done.
He stepped back—
and for the first time in three years—
he looked at Sano
with no affection,
no longing,
no foolish admiration.
Only broken weariness.
“I want to live without you, Sano-kun,” he whispered.
“For once in my life… I want to stop being hurt by someone I love.”
His fingers trembled around Marshmallow.
“And I want to finally… finally… walk away.”
Sano reached out—
“Seimei, wait—!”
But Haruaki stepped back again.
“Don’t,” he said quietly.
“No more reaching out. No more apologies. No more confusing words.”
His voice softened.
“Let me go, Sano-kun.”
And Sano Mikoto—
the boy who had never once backed down from a fight—
stood frozen, breath choking in his lungs, tears burning behind his eyes,
as he realized—
For the first time in his life,
he was facing something he didn’t know how to stop:
Haruaki finally giving up on him.
Haruaki’s words lingered in the air, sharp as glass:
“Let me go, Sano-kun.”
Sano stood there, stunned, as if the world had tilted beneath his feet.
He didn’t breathe.
He couldn’t breathe.
Haruaki’s eyes—normally warm, shy, glowing with sunshine—were now dim, exhausted, hollow.
He clutched Marshmallow so tightly that the mandogra squeaked in fear.
“…Seimei…” Sano whispered, voice cracking.
But Haruaki shook his head once.
“No. Don’t call me that.”
Then Haruaki turned—
—and began to walk away.
And that—
That broke something in Sano Mikoto.
“Wait—!”
He lurched forward, dizzy with panic, tripping on nothing.
His knees hit the ground hard—a dull, echoing thud resounds—but he didn’t care.
His hands were on the floor.
His forehead nearly touched it.
He bowed like someone begging a god for mercy.
“Don’t walk away from me—Haruaki—please—!”
Haruaki’s steps froze…
…but he didn’t turn around.
Sano’s voice trembled violently.
“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…”
His shoulders shook.
“I didn’t know… how much I was hurting you…”
Haruaki let out a broken, bitter exhale.
“You did know. You just didn’t care enough.”
Sano flinched as if struck.
“…I cared,” he whispered, tears hitting the floor beneath him.
“I cared too much…”
Haruaki finally turned—slowly, painfully.
His lips pressed flat, trembling.
“Sano-kun… caring doesn’t look like kicking me. Or punching me. Or humiliating me in front of other students.”
Sano’s throat closed.
“And caring doesn’t mean ignoring me for Maizuka-kun,” Haruaki added, voice shaking.
“It doesn’t mean glaring at me every time I smiled at you.”
“That’s not—! Haruaki, listen—!”
Sano scrambled to his feet, stumbling toward him.
Haruaki stepped back again.
And that tiny backward step shattered Sano completely.
He reached out blindly—
“Please—don’t go—”
—his fingers brushing Haruaki’s sleeve before Haruaki jerked away, almost violently.
“Sano-kun,” he said, voice trembling, “You don’t get to want me now.”
Sano froze as if the words pierced straight through him.
Haruaki continued, eyes burning.
“You don’t get to want me after three years of treating me like garbage.”
He choked on a breath.
“You don’t get to say you love me now, when I finally learned to accept that you hated me.”
“I never hated you!” Sano cried out, voice cracking like lightning.
“And I never knew what you wanted!” Haruaki shouted back.
The storm clouds gathered overhead—thick, dark, swirling—answering their agony.
“You kicked me! You hit me! You told me to shut up every time I tried to talk about my hobbies—!”
“I loved hearing you talk!” Sano yelled, eyes wild with desperation.
“I loved it so much it scared me—!”
“Liar.”
Haruaki’s voice broke.
“You mocked me every time I mentioned sailor uniforms—!”
“Because I wanted you to shut up before I lost control and kissed you!” Sano shouted.
Haruaki inhaled sharply, stunned—
—but then he shook his head, broken.
“No. No… You can’t—”
His voice wavered.
“You can’t twist this into some tragic love story now, Sano-kun.”
“It was always a love story,” Sano whispered, voice shaking.
“My pathetic one…”
Haruaki looked at him—really looked at him—and tears fell again, hot and trembling.
But this time, there was no hope in them.
Only heartbreak.
*Thunder cracked overhead.*
And the rain fell.
The first drop hit the windows of the classrooms.
Then another.
Then a downpour—cold, relentless—like the sky itself was grieving.
Sano took a shaking breath and stepped forward again.
“Haruaki, I can’t let you leave. I can’t.”
He reached out—
“Please. Look at me.”
Haruaki shut his eyes.
“Don’t touch me.”
But Sano did.
His hand landed on Haruaki’s arm—gentle for the first time in his life.
Haruaki flinched violently, as if burned.
“Stop,” he whispered.
“Don’t do this. Don’t make me feel things again.”
“I’ll do anything,” Sano pleaded.
“I’ll die for you—!”
“I don’t want you to die!” Haruaki shouted, voice trembling.
“I want you to let me live!”
Sano’s breath caught.
Haruaki continued, voice dripping exhaustion.
“I want peace. I want rest. I want to breathe without fear.”
He looked Sano straight in the eyes, rain mixing with tears.
“I want a life that doesn’t revolve around waiting for you to be kind.”
Sano’s hand fell limp.
The rain drummed around them, water soaking their graduation ceremony decorations outside the classrooms, dripping down the walls—making their tears indistinguishable from the storm.
“Haruaki…” Sano whispered, hollow.
“I can change. I swear—”
“You already broke me,” Haruaki said softly.
“And I’m tired.”
Sano’s lips parted, but no words came.
Haruaki’s voice faded into a whisper.
“And I’m done loving you.”
Those words—
Those words broke him.
Sano stumbled backward, shaking violently, as if struck by a curse.
Through the sheets of rain, a familiar voice yelled,
“Sanooo kun—! Where are you—!?”
Mamekichi in his Tanuki form skidded into view, drenched, annoyed, and immediately confused.
“Sano kun, why do you look like—”
Then he saw.
Haruaki—
shaking, soaked in sweat, clutching Marshmallow, crying.
Sano—
collapsed, broken, trembling on the classroom floor.
And between them—
a chasm made of three years of pain.
Mamekichi’s voice softened, tentative.
“…Se...Seimei....Kun?”
Haruaki couldn’t meet Mamekichi’s eyes.
Sano whipped his head around, almost snarling—
“Mame, don’t—stay back—!”
But Mamekichi, who transformed into his human form, also towered over Haruaki, ignored him, stepping forward, placing a hand on Haruaki’s shoulder with unusual gentleness.
“Seimei Kun… are you okay?”
Haruaki shook his head.
Very, very softly.
“No… I’m not.”
Sano’s body trembled violently.
“Haruaki—Haruaki, please—” he begged, voice raw.
“Please don’t walk away from me.”
And Haruaki—
with a voice so small, so broken, that even Mamekichi’s expression softened into pity—
whispered:
“I have to.”
Sano reached out blindly, desperate.
“Haruaki—!”
Haruaki stepped back.
“I don’t want to love you anymore, Sano-kun,” he whispered through the rain.
“I don’t want to hurt anymore. Please… let me go.”
Then—
Haruaki turned away.
And Sano Mikoto broke.
Completely.
Utterly.
Unrecognizably.
He fell to his knees again, rain hitting his bowed head as he sobbed into the mud.
While Haruaki walked farther, farther, farther…
…without looking back.
“S–SEIMEI!!”
Sano’s voice cracked so violently that it didn’t even sound like his own. It tore from deep inside him, raw panic shredding through his lungs. His legs moved before he could think—no, before he could breathe—because the sight in front of him turned the world into a horrible blur.
Abe Haruaki lay on the cold corridor floor, his body curled ever so slightly around his little Mandogra, Marshmallow. His fingers were still faintly clenched around the creature, as if protecting it even in unconsciousness. His vermilion eyes—usually warm, bright, soft—were shut, framed by wet eyelashes. Tears had dried unevenly on his cheeks.
“SEIMEI! SEIMEI—!!”
Sano slid beside him, knees scraping the floor. His hands shook violently as he tried to lift Haruaki’s shoulders.
Mamekichi Maizuka was behind him, eyes widening in shock before rushing forward.
“Sano-kun! Move—let me check him—oi, Seimei-kun?! Seimei-kun!” Mame fell to his knees, cupping Haruaki’s face with gentle hands. “Ahh… he’s so cold… what happened?”
Sano’s voice came out strangled. “I—I made him cry… I pushed him again… I—he ran—he said he didn’t want to love me anymore… and then—he just—” His breath came in broken gasps. “Why isn’t he waking up?!”
Mame glanced at the trembling boy beside him, then back at Haruaki. He brushed the teacher’s bangs away, wiping the streaks of tears from his cheek.
“Seimei-kun,” Mame whispered softly, “even your eyelashes look sad…”
Sano’s lips quivered. “M–Mame… don’t say weird stuff right now…”
But he was terrified. The hallway felt too silent. Too still.
And Haruaki… did not stir.
Mame carefully lifted Haruaki’s upper body, letting the teacher rest on his lap like a child.
“Sano-kun,” he said quietly.
“…What?”
“Calm down.”
“I can’t—!! Look at him, Mame! He—he’s not—he’s not moving! He—” Sano clutched his own hair, pulling at the roots. “I made him say those things—! ‘I wish I wasn’t appointed to this school’—‘I want to move on’—‘I don’t want to love you anymore’—Mame, he said all of that—!!”
Mame’s gaze softened—sympathetic, yet painfully honest.
“You pushed him too far, Sano-kun. ”
Sano flinched as if stabbed.
“You were always rough with him… too rough.” Mame continued, brushing Haruaki’s cheek with his thumb. “He looks strong, he acts bright… but Seimei-kun breaks quietly. He breaks where no one can see. You and I know that better than anyone, right?”
“I know…” Sano whispered, voice shaking. “I know. That’s why I—hate myself right now—”
Mame looked down at Haruaki’s fragile form in his lap, and murmured, “He cried himself unconscious. That’s not something people do unless their heart is really, truly hurting.”
Sano felt the corridor tilt. His breath caught in his chest.
“H–hurting… because of me?”
Mame nodded slowly. “Because of you.”
Sano covered his face with both hands, trembling.
“I ruined him… I ruined Seimei…”
A small groan interrupted the silence.
“…uhn…”
“Seimei-kun!” Mame leaned down urgently. “Hey… hey, can you hear me?”
Haruaki’s eyelids fluttered weakly. He looked pale. Exhausted. Like someone who had cried enough to collapse.
“S… Sano…kun…?” Haruaki whispered faintly, voice so thin it hardly existed.
Sano immediately leaned forward. “I’m here. I’m right here—Seimei, I’m—”
But Haruaki didn’t look at him.
His gaze drifted to the ceiling, unfocused.
Then—
He smiled.
A small, broken, beautifully tragic smile.
“…Ah. Sorry. I must have worried you…” His voice cracked. “Maizuka-kun… can you please attend your ceremony? I’m… okay. Really.”
Mame blinked. “Seimei-kun, you literally collapsed—”
“I’m an adult,” Haruaki whispered. “Just overwhelmed. It’s silly. I’m… silly.” His fingers tightened around Marshmallow. “You should go. Both of you. I don’t want to disturb your day. It’s… it’s important.”
Sano made a choked sound.
“Sei—”
But Haruaki spoke over him, voice breaking:
“I don’t want… to be a burden anymore.”
The words hit Sano like a blade.
“STOP SAYING THAT!!” Sano burst out, slamming his fist into the floor. “YOU’RE NOT A BURDEN! YOU’RE—YOU’RE—”
Haruaki closed his eyes, breathing shakily.
“I don’t feel anything anymore, Sano-kun. Not even my own heartbeat.”
Sano’s breath froze.
“And that’s terrifying,” Haruaki continued softly. “I really, wholeheartedly wish I wasn’t ever appointed to this school… because meeting you… loving you…” His voice trembled. “It broke me.”
“S–Seimei,” Sano whispered, eyes flooding. “Don’t say that. Please. Not like that. Not when I finally—”
But Haruaki turned his face away, hiding his tears.
“…Let me go, Sano-kun. This time, for real, don't stop me from moving on.”
Mame, witnessing the cold atmosphere, interrupted them, as he placed a gentle hand on Haruaki’s forehead.
“Seimei-kun~ Lay down, rest,” he said softly. “I already informed Hatanaka that I won’t be attending the ceremony. Relax~ I’m staying right here.”
Haruaki’s eyes widened in panic. “Maizuka-kun! Y-you can’t skip—your graduation—!”
“I can,” Mame said simply. “I just did.”
“But—!”
“I’d rather be here,” Mame patted his teacher’s cheek gently, “with someone who actually needs me.”
Haruaki stared at him, stunned, tears forming again.
“Sano-kun, help me carry him to the infirmary.”
Sano immediately moved forward, nodding shakily.
“Y–Yeah.”
Haruaki tried to protest, “No—please, I—I can—walk—”
But his knees buckled the moment he tried to stand.
Sano caught him instantly, arms wrapping around his waist, holding him up like he was the most precious thing in the world.
“Seimei,” Sano whispered into his hair, voice trembling. “Please… please don’t disappear from me like that again. I can’t—just—watch you fall.”
Haruaki swallowed hard, eyes lowering.
“…Your concern… feels like a dream.”
“It’s not,” Sano said. “I swear. I swear it’s real.”
Haruaki didn’t respond.
He simply closed his eyes again, leaning weakly into Sano’s chest—not because he wanted to, but because he had no strength left to fight.
And Sano held him like he was afraid that even breathing wrong might make Haruaki shatter into dust.
The infirmary smelled of antiseptic and old bandages, the curtains drawn half-open as afternoon light filtered in softly. Marshmallow, the Mandroga, sat on a stool near the bed, squeaking anxiously.
Takahashi-sensei adjusted his medical equipments with a grin that was far too excited for a medical professional.
“Oho. Abe Sensei, unconscious due to emotional overload~? Fascinating.”
He took out a notebook. “Should I record the phenomenon? Hmmm, perhaps measure his hormone levels—”
“No,” Sano said immediately.
“—or analyze the tear chemistry—”
“No.”
“—or temporarily remove a rib for curiosity—”
“ABSOLUTELY NOT!!” Sano exploded, grabbing Takahashi by the collar. “IF YOU TOUCH A SINGLE RIB OF HIS—!”
Takahashi only grinned wider. “My my, Sano-kun, possessive today, aren’t we?”
Mame stood behind Sano, holding onto Haruaki’s limp hand. He sighed exasperated at Dr. Takahashi’s antics.
“Takahashi Sensei. He’s a teacher, not a guinea pig.”
“Tch. Fine, fine. I’ll only run some basic checks,” Takahashi said, though he didn’t look remotely disappointed.
He leaned over Haruaki’s sleeping form, pushing his bangs aside.
“Pale skin, faint breathing, tear tracks, slight trembling around the lashes… he cried himself into shutdown mode. How interesting.”
Sano clenched his fists. “Stop describing him like he’s some—some experiment!”
Mame’s voice became firm. “Takahashi Sensei, Be serious. He fell. He collapsed. He looks sickly and he’s been crying for hours.”
“…Ah.”
Takahashi finally softened. “In that case—step back. Let me do my real job.”
Sano refused to move.
Takahashi sighed. “Sano-kun, patients need space.”
“He’s not just a patient to me.”
Takahashi raised an eyebrow. “He’s your teacher.”
“That’s not all,” Sano muttered.
Mame glanced at him but said nothing.
Haruaki’s fingers twitched, and a faint groan slipped out.
“U… uhn…”
Sano instantly leaned in. “Seimei! Hey—hey, can you hear me?”
Haruaki’s eyes opened slowly, unfocused and cloudy. He blinked several times before registering where he was.
“T… the infirmary…?”
“Yes, you collapsed,” Mame said, squeezing his hand. “So don’t move too much.”
Haruaki’s cheeks tinted with embarrassed pink.
“Ah… I troubled you all… I’m so sorry… I really am okay—”
“No, you are not,” Sano snapped.
Haruaki flinched at the tone.
Sano immediately softened, voice trembling.
“Sorry. I mean—don’t pretend you’re okay. You passed out in the hallway, Seimei. You were crying so hard that—”
His voice cracked.
“—your body just shut down…”
Takahashi added cheerfully, “And your tear glands were working overtime! Truly a rare biological reaction—”
Sano growled, “Takahashi Sensei—!”
Mame placed a hand on Sano’s shoulder.
“Calm down. Seimei Kun doesn’t need shouting.”
Haruaki pulled his hand away weakly, covering his face.
“…Please don’t look at me. I must look awful.”
Sano reached out, voice soft but urgent.
“You look like yourself.”
“Don’t lie,” Haruaki whispered.
“I’m not lying.”
Haruaki squeezed his eyes shut.
“…I wanted to disappear.”
The room froze.
Sano’s breath stopped. Mame’s eyes widened. Even Takahashi’s smile faded.
“Seimei…” Sano whispered.
Haruaki’s voice trembled, raw and exhausted.
“I didn’t want anyone to see me like that. I didn’t want you to hear those words. I didn’t want to feel anything anymore. I just… I wanted to stop hurting.”
Sano’s hands clenched in the sheets, knuckles white.
“You hurting is the last thing I ever wanted.”
Haruaki laughed — a small, shattered sound.
“That’s funny. Because it’s the one thing you consistently succeeded at.”
Mame whispered, “…Haruaki-sensei…”
Sano’s heart shattered.
“I know. I know I did. I know I hurt you. I know I made you cry. I know I pushed you away like a monster—”
Takahashi hummed. “You were quite monstrous. Documented several times in the nurse’s complaints.”
“MIND YOUR BUSINESS!!”
“Ehh, I’m the doctor here though!"
Haruaki finally lowered his hands, revealing his striking red eyes. They were swollen from crying, shimmering with a quiet, painful resignation.
“Maizuka-kun…”
He forced a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.
“…Thank you for staying. But you should go to your ceremony. It’s… important. Today is your future.”
Mame puffed his cheeks.
“Seimei-kun, I already told you. I’m not leaving you alone in this state.”
“Takahashi-sensei will take care of me. He’s a professional—”
Takahashi grinned, pulling a scalpel from his sleeve.
“Indeed. And I’ve always wanted to—”
“PUT THE SCALPEL DOWN!!”
Sano and Mame shouted in unison.
Haruaki smiled softly.
“See? He’s reliable…”
“No, he’s NOT!!”
Sano grabbed the scalpel away.
Takahashi pouted.
“…Fine. I’ll only monitor his heart rate.”
Haruaki sighed weakly.
“…Sano-kun. You too. Please go.”
Sano froze.
Haruaki spoke again, voice soft but pained.
“I don’t want you to see me like this anymore. Let me… let me have some dignity. Please. Just for today.”
Sano took a step forward.
Then another.
And another.
He leaned over Haruaki, eyes trembling, voice cracking.
“I’m not leaving you.”
“Why…?” Haruaki whispered.
“Because if I leave now… I’m scared you’ll disappear.”
Haruaki inhaled sharply.
Sano continued, voice unsteady.
“If you vanish—if you fade away—even a little more… I won’t survive it.”
The room fell silent.
Mame looked between them with widened eyes.
Takahashi raised a brow in interest.
Haruaki’s lips parted.
“…Sano-kun…”
Sano leaned down until their foreheads almost touched.
“I’m not leaving you. Not now. Not ever.”
Haruaki’s breath shook—then his eyes filled again with tears he didn’t want to shed.
“…Why… now…? Why say all this now…?”
Sano’s voice cracked, raw and soft:
“Because I’m terrified of losing you.”
The infirmary felt colder.
Not because the temperature changed—
but because Haruaki had stopped looking at Sano Mikoto altogether.
No glance.
No response.
Not even a tiny flicker of recognition.
He simply turned his head away.
As if Sano was air.
As if the boy who once dominated his entire emotional world… didn’t exist.
Sano froze.
Completely.
“...Seimei?”
Silence.
“Haruaki.”
Nothing.
“Sensei… please look at me.”
Still nothing.
Sano’s voice cracked softly.
“Please…”
But Haruaki exhaled shakily, eyes drifting toward Maizuka Mamekichi instead.
“…Maizuka-kun. Could you please hand me my phone?”
His voice was weak—gentle—but utterly empty of warmth when it came to Sano.
Mame hesitated, glancing at Sano’s distressed face, but he finally reached into Haruaki’s jacket and placed the phone into Haruaki’s trembling hand.
“Here… Seimei-kun.”
“Thank you,” Haruaki murmured, giving Mame a fragile smile that looked like cracked porcelain.
Sano stepped closer.
“Seimei—what are you doing? Please… don’t ignore me. Say something. Anything. Even if it’s anger—”
Haruaki didn’t even turn his head.
He dialed a number.
The moment the call connected, his tone changed—soft, tiny, quivering.
He only ever sounded like that with one person.
“…Amee…?”
Sano’s heart dropped.
Mame stiffened.
Even Takahashi stopped scribbling.
A voice boomed from the phone speaker—deep, velvety, and terrifyingly calm:
“Haruaki? Why does your voice sound like you’ve been crying?”
Haruaki squeezed Marshmallow the Mandroga closer to his chest.
“…I-I’m at Hyakki Gakuen’s infirmary. I… collapsed.”
There was a pause.
A long, murderous pause.
Then:
“Who hurt you?”
Sano took a step back, cold sweat breaking out down his spine.
Takahashi whispered to Mame, “Oh, this is bad. Isn’t Abe Amaaki the one who almost strangled a doctor for misdiagnosing Abe Sensei’s cold?”
Mame gulped. “Yeah… And the doctor was a well-known in the mafia world.”
Sano whispered, trembling not in fear of the big brother, but he knows, Haruaki will forever leave him if Amaaki comes, “He’s… coming, isn’t he…?”
Haruaki nodded faintly.
“…Amee… I want to go home. I want to leave school today.”
Amaaki’s voice turned even more lethal.
“Stay where you are. I’m on my way. Don’t move an inch, Haru.”
Haruaki closed his eyes.
“Okay…”
Sano looked like someone stabbed him in the chest.
He reached out again, voice cracking like glass:
“Seimei—don’t… don’t shut me out. Don’t call him because of me. Don’t bring him here because of m—”
Haruaki finally acknowledged him.
But his gaze was cold.
Dead cold.
“…I didn’t call him because of you,” he whispered flatly. “I called him because I don’t feel safe.”
The words sliced through Sano like a blade.
He staggered back a step.
“Not… safe…? With me…?”
Haruaki looked through him, not at him.
“…I don’t feel anything around you anymore.”
Mame flinched.
Takahashi muttered, “Oof. Critical hit.”
Sano choked on air.
“Seimei—don’t say that. Please don’t say that. Not after everything I—”
Haruaki cut him off.
Voice cold.
Expression hollow.
“…Maizuka-kun. Could you help me sit up? My chest hurts.”
Mame obeyed quietly, sliding an arm behind Haruaki’s back to support him.
Sano watched, helpless.
“Seimei,” Sano whispered, “Why won’t you let me help?”
Haruaki looked at Mame.
“Tighter, Maizuka-kun. It still hurts…”
Mame adjusted his hold.
“And you’re warm…” Haruaki murmured, leaning lightly against his shoulder. “Thank you.”
Sano felt his entire world cave in.
His breath came shaky, uneven.
“H-Haruaki… please… don’t lean on him like that…”
Haruaki didn’t even blink.
“Why? He’s kind. He never pushed me. He never yelled. He never kicked me.”
Each word hit like a hammer.
Sano’s voice cracked into a whisper.
“You’re doing this… on purpose…”
Haruaki’s eyes finally met his.
But they weren’t full of love.
Or fear.
Or tenderness.
They were empty.
“…Sano-kun,” he said slowly, calmly, “I’m tired. Too tired to care about your feelings.”
Sano felt something collapse inside him.
His knees almost buckled.
“…You don’t mean that,” he whispered desperately. “You’re angry. Hurt. You’re just saying—”
“No,” Haruaki interrupted coldly. “I mean every word.”
Silence.
A deep, suffocating silence.
Then Haruaki turned to Takahashi.
“Takahashi-sensei… can you give me something to sleep? I want to rest until Amaaki arrives.”
“Ah, I can give you a mild sedative—”
Sano shouted, “NO!! He doesn’t need that! He just fainted—!”
Haruaki spoke softly to Takahashi.
“…Please. I don’t want to be awake right now.”
Sano’s heart shattered again.
“Seimei! Don’t do that! Don’t shut your eyes like that—don’t leave me out—!”
Haruaki looked at Mame instead.
“Maizuka-kun… will you sit with me until I fall asleep?”
Mame nodded gently sparing a final glance to his best friend, Sano Mikoto.
“Of course, Seimei-kun. I’m right here.”
Haruaki leaned against him, eyes fluttering.
Sano made a small, broken sound.
“Please… please look at me…”
But Haruaki had already closed his eyes.
Ignoring him completely.
The infirmary grew so quiet that even the ticking of the old wall clock sounded like a hammer against glass.
Takahashi-sensei dimmed the lights.
Mame pulled a blanket over Haruaki’s small, trembling figure and rubbed gentle circles on his back until his breathing steadied, little by little. Marshmallow the Mandroga was tucked firmly in Haruaki’s arms, its leaf-like ears drooping in sympathy.
Haruaki looked so young while asleep.
So tired.
So heartbreakingly worn out.
The kind of exhaustion that didn’t come from fainting…
…but from living.
From enduring.
From loving someone who never held him gently.
Sano stood near the curtain divider, hands useless at his sides, fingers still trembling from the urge to reach out—
to touch Haruaki’s hair, to feel his warmth, to say something that might undo today’s damage.
But he stayed still.
Frozen.
Because Haruaki had finally given up.
Because Haruaki didn’t want his touch anymore.
Because Haruaki had stopped saying his name.
Mame glanced back at Sano once.
Not with hostility, but with something worse—
Pity.
A soft, apologetic whisper:
“Sano-kun… don’t make noise. Seimei-kun finally fell asleep.”
Sano swallowed, throat burning.
“…I won’t.”
Mame nodded once, then returned fully to Haruaki’s side, brushing a stray strand of hair from the teacher’s lashes.
“Abe Sensei’s face is swollen,” Takahashi muttered absently while checking vitals. “He cried too hard. Poor thing.”
Sano bit down on his lip until the metallic taste filled his mouth.
Haruaki had cried like that—
and not because of monsters, or exams, or students pulling pranks—
No.
Because of him.
Because of Sano Mikoto.
A quiet throb echoed in Sano’s chest, painful enough to feel like a physical wound.
He touched his sternum unconsciously, as if trying to hold the pieces inside.
The curtain swayed slightly with a draft from the window, casting shifting shadows across Haruaki’s sleeping face.
It almost looked like he was disappearing.
Little by little.
Fading from Sano’s world.
Sano’s breath hitched.
He whispered, barely audible:
“…Seimei…”
But Haruaki didn’t stir.
Didn’t respond.
Didn’t flinch, or tense, or pretend he was asleep.
Nothing.
Just silence.
Like Sano had never been important enough to disrupt his rest.
Doctor Takahashi adjusted Haruaki’s drip.
“Maizuka-kun, keep his hand elevated. His pulse is a bit unstable.”
“Got it,” Mame whispered.
Their voices felt miles away from Sano.
His world had shrunk to a single point—
the motionless figure on the infirmary bed.
His Seimei.
No—
Not his anymore.
Just Abe Haruaki.
A teacher who finally lost the strength to care.
The door creaked with a faint sound, as if the school building itself was holding its breath.
The sky outside grew darker—heavy clouds rolling in, muffling what little light remained.
Takahashi scribbled on his clipboard.
Mame hummed softly, stroking Haruaki’s hair.
And Sano…
Sano stood alone in the shadowed corner, unable to move forward—
and too ashamed to step back.
Every memory of hurting Haruaki played like a cruel slideshow behind his eyes:
The kicks.
The insults.
The way he scoffed at Haruaki’s sailor uniforms.
The way Haruaki still smiled at him afterward, even with bruises blooming on his arms.
The way he’d look hurt and try to hide it.
The way Sano always turned away.
And the way Haruaki’s voice finally shattered today, whispering:
“I don’t feel anything around you anymore.”
Sano pressed a hand to his face, his breath trembling uncontrollably.
The worst part wasn’t the rejection.
It was the realization that…
He earned it.
He deserved it.
He caused it.
A faint vibration came from Haruaki’s phone on the table—
Amaaki messaging:
“I’m almost there. Haru, wait for your aniki.”
Sano’s stomach dropped.
The final nail in the coffin.
Mame adjusted the blanket around Haruaki and whispered:
“Seimei-kun… you’re safe. Rest well. I’m right here.”
And something inside Sano cracked open.
Because it wasn’t him saying those words.
It wasn’t him being allowed near.
It wasn’t him Haruaki leaned on.
It never had been.
His voice broke as he whispered into the empty air:
“…I’m too late.”
For the first time in years—
Sano felt small.
Smaller than Haruaki ever was.
He wiped his eyes with the back of his sleeve, quietly, almost viciously, to erase the tears before anyone could see.
But one stray tear fell.
Landed soundlessly on the infirmary floor.
And that was how the chapter ended:
With Haruaki asleep, clinging to Marshmallow,
Mame watching over him like a guardian,
Takahashi Akira scribbling in the dim light,
and Sano standing alone—
unwanted,
unforgiven,
and utterly terrified of the sunrise—
because it meant facing a world where Haruaki might never love him again.
A world where Haruaki might truly…
move on.
The End...