Evening settled softly over the apartment, warm light spilling across the living room as Akio lounged on the couch in his civilian clothes. His hair was still a little wind tousled from slipping in through the window minutes earlier, but he’d already settled into that rare quiet pocket between vigilante work and normal life. A book rested open in his hands, the pages catching the faint glow of the lamp.
Aira wasn’t home yet. Hot pot night always ran long. He expected her to come back energized and loud and full of stories—but for a moment, the apartment was still. Peaceful.
Then he heard the familiar rhythm of footsteps in the corridor.
A key slid into the lock.
Aira swung the door open, and Akio could practically feel the excitement radiating off her even before she stepped fully inside. She kicked off her shoes with unnecessary force and practically beamed in his direction.
“Akio!! Guess what!! You wouldn’t believe what happened tonight!” she burst out, breathless with enthusiasm.
Akio closed his book, resting it on his lap. He raised one brow, indulgent but curious. “Another vigilante sighting?”
“No—even better!” Aira bounded across the room and flopped down beside him, bouncing like she couldn’t physically hold the story inside.
“Do you remember that guy I told you about? The one I became best friends with during my exchange program three years ago? He was at hot pot tonight!”
“You met a lot of people at that program,” Akio replied. “You might have to be more specific.”
Aira leaned in closer, eyes sparkling. “Hyakki! That guy I was super close with! Smug like you but emo and less weird. The one who ghosted me out of nowhere? I thought he died! But he’s alive—and get this—he’s Runa and Kairo’s roommate now.”
Before Akio could react, she dug out her phone and shoved it right up to his face.
“Look! This is a photo from hot pot tonight—that’s him, right there on the left!”
Akio squinted at the image, adjusting the angle so he could actually see. The group was crowded around a table, steam rising from the pot, everyone laughing. His gaze drifted to the person Aira tapped.
A young man with long light brown hair tied loosely behind him. Crimson eyes that held a faintly amused, unreadable glint. Relaxed posture. A quiet presence that didn’t quite match the noise of the table.
Akio hummed lightly. “I’ve never seen him. He seems nice.”
Aira snatched her phone back immediately. “Wait—wait, I have so many pictures of us from before! Let me find them.”
She began scrolling at a breakneck pace, swiping through years of photo clutter. “They’re pretty old so he looks a little different—less hair, more eyeliner, super emo—but it’s definitely him. Hold on, hold on—don’t move!”
Aira finally found the right folder and lit up triumphantly. “Here, look!”
Before Akio could prepare himself, she was already shoving her phone into his hands, swiping through images at a speed that should’ve been illegal.
Photo after photo filled the screen—grainy selfies, blurred motion shots, chaotic candids. A younger Aira grinning mischievously beside a younger Hyakki, both of them mid trouble in every conceivable scenario.
“This one’s from when we climbed that wall by the cliff!” Aira chirped. Swipe. “And this is from when we skipped class to go get crepes—oh! And this is when we stole those matching hoodies—don’t look at me like that, it wasn’t serious—and this is from when we pranked our professor by—”
Akio blinked slowly.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
He had expected… normal photos. Maybe a study session. A festival booth. Something wholesome.
Instead he was being confronted with what looked like a duo of part time delinquents with full time gremlin energy.
“With each story,” he said carefully, handing the phone back before he could be complicit in her archives, “I am forming the impression that the two of you were frequently engaging in… questionable activities.”
Aira scoffed, snatching her phone protectively. “It was sometimes. We were just having fun! It’s not like we were committing crimes.”
“You literally just described shoplifting hoodies,” Akio replied, tone flat but not unkind.
She opened her mouth, closed it, and then tried again. “Okay but that was—look, it doesn’t matter. That was years ago!”
Akio leaned back slightly as she shoved another photo toward him. This one showed her and Hyakki halfway through climbing out of a window—already caught up in something he suspected they absolutely should not have been doing.
The image itself didn’t bother him; it was the pattern it implied. The reckless energy. The impulsivity. The blatant disregard for consequences.
Akio hadn’t met Hyakki yet, but years of analyzing and profiling people had given him an edge in discerning character from limited information. Combined with the fact that Hyakki had abruptly ghosted Aira for three years with no explanation, Akio was forming an impression of carelessness he found difficult to ignore.
He exhaled through his nose, a quiet, measured sigh.
“I don’t know,” he said at last, voice polite but edged with judgment he wasn’t trying very hard to hide, “he comes off as a bit irresponsible. And a bit of a bad influence.”
Aira yanked the phone back, scandalized, cheeks flushing with immediate indignation. “That was before! He’s a TA now! He’s super capable and actually a really great person once you get to know him.”
Akio nodded once—the kind of nod someone gives when they’ve heard words that they do not, in fact, believe even a little. “If you say so.”
Aira planted her hands on her hips, full pout activated, frustration radiating off her in small, sharp waves. “You haven’t even met him and you’ve already decided you don’t like him. You’re treating this like a job interview. This is my friend.”
“I’m simply making an observation based on established behavioral patterns,” Akio replied calmly. “You said he disappeared for three years and ghosted you completely. That seems… fairly inconsiderate.”
Aira bristled visibly, shoulders tightening as irritation sparked bright in her eyes. “He was in a dark place! He had a lot going on.”
“That doesn’t excuse it,” Akio said, tone still maddeningly soft and even. “If anything, that’s more reason he should have reached out and sought support.”
“Why can’t you just be happy for me?? Some people don’t want to bother others with their problems,” Aira said sharper this time, a defensive bite under the words. Her arms crossed like she was holding herself together, irritation flaring hot enough to mask the hurt beneath.
Akio watched her carefully—eyes steady, unreadable, quietly assessing. He wasn’t trying to upset her; he was simply stating his observations as an older brother, detached but deeply protective. If anything, his restraint made his next words cut deeper.
“I’m just saying that by disappearing,” he said with quiet insistence, “he affected your mental health. You were worried sick. You were constantly stressed about him during that time.”
Aira’s jaw clenched as she squared her shoulders into a confrontational stance, voice tightening with barely contained frustration.
“I was already stressed. I was in a tough spot anyway with bigger things to worry about! You’re treating it like it’s his fault my mental was so bad, when really it was because I was literally stuck in a hospital bed dying!”
Akio drew in a slow breath, letting it settle before he answered—calm, unshaken, unwavering.
“I’m not saying it’s his fault, I’m just pointing out that if he really cared, he would’ve reached out to you at least once while you were recovering.”
The silence that followed was sharp, prickling.
Aira’s breath hitched, anger flickering with something rawer as she finally, reluctantly, looked back at him—hurt burning beneath her glare.
Akio held her gaze for a moment longer, reading every flicker in her expression. It was all there—loud to him even when she tried to bury it. But before he could say anything more, Aira snapped her gaze away, shoulders rigid.
“Whatever,” she muttered, but her voice wavered with equal parts frustration and wounded pride. “You’re just being annoying. And judgmental. And you don’t know him.”
She grabbed her phone, clutching it too tightly. “Once you actually meet him, you’ll change your mind. I know you will.”
The words came out hot, defensive, almost accusing—like she needed them to be true just to keep from unraveling.
She didn’t wait for him to reply.
Aira turned sharply, storming down the hallway toward her room. Her steps were quick, clipped, each one echoing her anger more clearly than anything she’d said aloud. She paused just long enough to throw a final glare over her shoulder before closing her door behind her.
The apartment fell quiet.
Akio stayed where he was, inhaling slowly as the last of Aira’s footsteps faded. The silence pressed in, dense and uncomfortable. He lowered himself back onto the couch, picked up his book, and opened it to the page he’d left off on.
But the words didn’t register.
He stared at them, eyes tracing the lines without absorbing anything. A small, unwelcome knot formed in his chest.
…Was I too harsh?
He replayed the argument in his head—her flaring temper, her tightened voice, the way she’d looked at him right before leaving. He hadn’t intended to cut her so deeply. He just… couldn’t help it. He hated seeing her defend someone who had abandoned her. Hated the idea of her being hurt again.
Still, the guilt lingered.
He sighed, setting the book down in his lap. His gaze drifted toward the hallway where Aira had disappeared. Maybe he had been too blunt. Maybe he should’ve been gentler.
Maybe she was right.
I guess, he thought to himself, we’ll see.
─ ? NEXT CHAPTER POV ? ─
Aira
Was Akio too harsh?
