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The camellia is still there.

How the fuck did he get in here?

Bloodburn’s locker wing is restricted to the heirs. The biometric logs are encrypted. To get inside locker forty-two, he would have had to either clone my RFID frequency, bypass the central administrative server, or physically pick a digital lock that’s wired directly to campus security.

I sigh. Then I bring the flower to my nose again.

Breathe in.

Deep.

My face warms, and to my absolute horror, I catch myself smiling.

Kento

“The sun is bright,” Akira mutters. His hands are shoved deep into the pockets of his dark jacket. His collar is pulled up and his chin tucked down. He and his twin are not used to being outside. Kenji usually keeps them locked away from the public, but sometimes I sneak them out. They are children, and they are dying. They should see the world.

I reach out, catch the back of his neck, and give it an affectionate squeeze. “Stop hiding.”

He doesn’t pull away from my hand. He leans into the warmth of my palm before his shoulders drop back into their usual slouch. “People are so loud in here.”

“They are just people,” Yuma says, his entire face lighting up as we hit the corner of the avenue. He is practically skipping beside my right elbow, his fingers hooked into the fabric of my sleeve just to stay anchored. “Look at the cart! Kento, what is that? It smells like cinnamon. Can we get three? One for each of us?”

“We can get six if you want,” I tell Yuma, tapping his forehead with two knuckles.

Yuma beams, his green eyes round and bright under his messy hair.

“You spoil him,” Akira says quietly, his voice dry. “He’s going to rot his teeth.”

“I’ll spoil you too if you ask nicely,” I say, nudging Akira’s shoulder with mine.

Akira cuts his eyes up at me, the corners of his mouth twitching with the barest hint of a smile before he suppresses it. “I don’t like sugar. Also, why are so many people looking at me?”

“Nobody is looking at you, kid. You are five feet.”

“Five-two,” Akira corrects under his breath.

“A giant,” I agree.

Yuma giggles, tugging my sleeve toward a glass storefront displaying rows of imported fruit. “Rei likes these, right? The little yellow ones? You told us he ate four of them when you brought them to his house.”

My chest warms. “He did. He made himself sick.” I talk to them about Rei almost every day. I always have, ever since I was little. I hope one day he can meet them. I’m just not sure that day will ever come.

“Kento,” Yuma says. The lilt vanishes from his voice in an instant. “Look.”

My eyes snap forward.

Thirty feet ahead, a boy stands at the edge of the curb with his back to the road. Dark curls move in the wind as he stares down at the paper package in his hands, completely oblivious. Behind him, a dark gray sedan swerves across the double yellow line, but instead of correcting, the driver floors the accelerator and aims straight for the curb.

“Akira,”

Akira moves before the name clears my teeth.

He doesn’t run like a normal kid. He is incredibly fast despite his sickness. He covers twenty feet of pavement in three strides, then he grabs the boy under the arm and yanks him backward onto the sidewalk with all his strength.

A crunch follows as the sedan jumps the curb, crushing a metal trash bin against the wall of a coffee shop. The driver jerks the wheel, and the car swerves back onto the road before disappearing toward the highway.

Akira is already on his feet, holding the other boy up by the elbow to keep him from tumbling back onto the concrete.