Intruder

(Akane's PoV)

—

Out there in the sterile communal corridor, illuminated by the buzzing overhead lights, was a figure that shouldn't have been physically capable of tracking my coordinates.

A figure dressed in an expensive, high-end casual jacket, his handsome face completely devoid of its usual arrogant smirk, and his eyes cold and hollow as he stared directly at the numbers 402.

Kenji, my brother. Of course. He was the only one who knew where I lived.

The name vibrated through my consciousness like a toxic shock wave. The absolute finality of my solitary, defensive sanctuary was violently compromised in a single microsecond.

In that moment, the old structural wiring of my survival mechanics immediately took total command of my nervous system.

I turned on my heel without breaking the silence of the corridor, my bare feet carrying me smoothly back into the dim crimson glow of the bedroom.

Shin was sitting up on the edge of the mattress, his eyes wide and alert, tracking my moving silhouette with an intense, unblinking focus. But he didn't speak, not a single word.

He probably felt the violent drop in the room's temperature directly off the line of my shoulders. 

The only thing I said to reassure him was "Don't worry, I'll take care of it."

After that, I didn't waste a second searching for my discarded school clothes. I reached down, snatched a fresh pair of black cotton underwear from the drawer, and slid into them with fluid, rapid movements.

Then, my hands found a massive, oversized gray sweatshirt resting on the back of the desk chair—a thick, heavy knit that swallowed my narrow frame completely, the hem draping all the way down to my knees, obscuring my ink and my bare thighs from the rest of the world.

I didn't look at Shin as I finished dressing, but the solid, reassuring weight of his presence behind me was the only thing preventing my veins from turning into pure liquid nitrogen.

I moved back out into the narrow entryway, my bare feet remaining on the floorboards as I approached the heavy metal barrier. Then, I placed my left hand flat against the cold surface of the door, my right fingers locking around the brass deadbolt.

I twisted it with a sharp, resounding click and pulled the door inward, presenting an absolute wall of sub-zero hostility to the corridor.

Kenji was standing precisely where the peephole had documented him under the flickering white tube lights.

He hadn't shifted his weight, and he hadn't reached out to ring the bell a third time, he knew that I was there, for some reason.

He was dressed in the exact same luxury-casual attire we had passed on the suburban street earlier, but every single line of his athletic posture had completely altered its cadence.

The insufferable, dominant swagger of the school's Soccer Star was entirely gone.

His handsome face was strangely pulled into a tight, almost timid expression, his eyes fixed on the threshold, and his right hand was tightly gripping the handles of a plain, heavy paper envelope.

I stood squarely in the center of the opening, blocking his line of sight into the interior of my apartment, my golden eyes narrowing into razor-sharp slits.

"What do you want, brother?" I asked, my voice dropping into a low, gravelly rasp that vibrated with a calculated, menacing friction.

Kenji flinched microscopically under the unyielding weight of my tone, his clear eyes dropping down to the paper envelope for a fraction of a second before lifting back to meet my gaze.

He didn't look like the alpha male who had spent his afternoon indifferently walking with a broken girl.

He looked... human, almost vulnerable. It was an offensive display that my system immediately rejected.

"Nothing," he answered quietly, his voice lacking its usual resonant, booming authority. Then, he extended his arm, holding the heavy envelope across the threshold toward my chest. "Mother and Father explicitly asked me to drop this here. It's the cash layout for your monthly rent and the necessary administrative utility expenses. It should be more than enough to cover the apartment bills."

I reached out a single, calloused hand, snatching the thick envelope cleanly out of his grip with a fast, unceremonious jerk. I didn't even verify the contents or say 'thank you'.

"Mh? And how exactly did you end up as the delivery boy?" I countered, my tone dripping with an absolute, heavy sarcasm that cut through the sterile air of the corridor. "Why couldn't they simply execute a standard electronic bank transfer to my independent account like they usually do every single month?"

Kenji shifted his leather sneakers against the linoleum tile, his fingers nervously sliding deep into the pockets of his expensive jacket.

"Well... the truth is that I explicitly requested to handle the delivery myself," he admitted, his voice dropping into a softer, more conversational cadence that felt entirely foreign to his normal script. He looked at me with an earnestness that made the skin at the nape of my neck prickle with suspicion. "I actually wanted to speak with you about a few things, Sis." He added, making my skin crawl.

After his words, I didn't give him a single millimeter of margin to build a narrative. I moved my left hand to the edge of the heavy wooden door, preparing to terminate the interaction with a physical slam.

"Spare me these useless talks, Brother," I snapped, my voice hitting the space like an iron rod. "I have absolutely no need to talk to you, and there is nothing in this universe we need to discuss."

"Come on, Akane, please," he muttered, taking half a step closer to the threshold, his eyes carrying a desperate, searching energy. "Just give me five minutes. I'm not trying to launch an argument."

This time, he was using a completely new register: a lighter, completely normal, and grounded tone.

It sounded like the voice of a sibling who was genuinely, desperately trying to construct a bridge of reconciliation over years of family wreckage.

But my system was entirely immune to his words. I had spent my entire youth watching him consume the love, the attention, and the resources that my parents had denied me, and I knew exactly how easily he could manipulate a crowd to get what he wanted.

"I appreciate the currency, Kenji, but I am explicitly repeating that I have absolutely nothing to say to your face," I stated, my jaw locked tight as I narrowed my golden eyes into a flat line of total rejection. "At least, I certainly don't. You can take your little performance back to the high street. The Strawberry Girl would surely love your performance."

Then, I began to aggressively swing the heavy metal door shut, intending to lock him out in the cold corridor where he belonged. But before the latch could connect with the frame, Kenji spoke a single name that made my entire system drop into an instantaneous, freezing standstill.

"Ishikawa is inside the apartment right now, isn't he?"

I stopped the door from moving, holding the edge of the wood with a white-knuckled grip, my breathing dropping into a shallow, tight rhythm.

Then, I glared at him through the narrow opening, my tensed muscles drawing together beneath the oversized sweatshirt.

"And even if his coordinates are currently inside my bedroom, what exactly does that alter for your system, Kenji?" I demanded, my voice dangerous. "Would it change anything for you?"

Kenji quickly raised his hands in a defensive, peaceful gesture, a soft, completely unbothered expression crossing his handsome features.

"No, not at all," he replied quietly, shaking his head. "In fact, it doesn't bother me in the least. Quite the opposite, actually."

My eyebrows knitted together in a sudden, sharp spike of irritation. "Then why exactly did your mouth form the question?"

"Just pure curiosity," he murmured, his gaze drifting past my shoulder toward the dark hallway behind me before returning to my eyes. Then, a subtle, almost sad smile touched his lips. "I can see that the two of you have managed to build an incredibly tight, unbreakable bond over the last few days. Literally everyone in the school is talking about you two right now. The rumors are dominating the building."

"Not that your opinion carries a single drop of utility to my life, but the sheeps in those hallways can waste their breath talking for as long as they want," I shot back immediately, my voice ringing with a fierce, absolute pride that I didn't even attempt to mask. I stepped forward, my chin tilting up as I laid out the final, unyielding reality of our situation. "Because everything is completely official now. Shin and I are a legitimate, committed couple. We are together."

Kenji's eyes widened just a fraction of an inch, and I saw a genuine shock wave of surprise hit his face before he quickly controlled his features.

Then, he stared at me for a long, silent second, absorbing the absolute certainty in my voice, before he let out a low, slow nod of resignation.

"I... I honestly imagined as much," he said softly, his shoulders dropping in complete defeat. He took a step backward, away from the threshold, moving back under the buzzing white lights of the communal hallway. "Anyway... if you ever require anything, Akane... don't hesitate to use my number. Just call me."

My fist clenched involuntarily. 'Tch—'

He turned around without waiting for my response, his leather sneakers padding softly against the linoleum as his silhouette disappeared around the corner of the stairwell, leaving the corridor entirely empty.

I stood rigidly in the open doorway, my breath catching in my throat as my fingers dug violently into the heavy paper of the envelope, crushing the currency inside.

My chest was heaving with a sudden, volatile cocktail of raw rage and defensive adrenaline, my teeth grinding together so hard my jaw felt bruised.

"Where the hell does he find the disgusting courage to show his face in my house after every single thing he has done?" I whispered into the empty corridor, my knuckles turning a bloodless shade of white as I slammed the heavy metal door shut, twisting the deadbolt into place with a loud, final crash.

I leaned my back against the hardwood, my eyes staring widely at the ceiling, and my heart rate running completely out of control.

The encounter had reinjected the poison of my family straight into the apartment, the pristine sanctuary of our date thoroughly compromised by his voice.

But before the toxic thoughts could drag me back down into the dark, a sudden, solid warmth materialized directly behind my spine.

Shin stepped into the narrow entryway. He had slid into a pair of plain underwear, his chest and legs completely bare in the dim light of the hall, his posture entirely calm, steady, and reassuring.

He didn't waste a single second on questions. He moved straight into my personal space, his arms reaching around from behind, wrapping his forearm securely over my chest, over the thick fabric of the oversized sweatshirt. He pulled my back flush against his bare chest, his chin resting gently on the curve of my shoulder, holding me secure against his frame.

The immediate warmth of his skin cut through the freezing adrenaline running through my veins

In that moment, my tense shoulders dropped a fraction of an inch, my head tilting back to rest against his shoulder as I reached up with both hands, my fingers gently, rhythmically caressing the smooth skin of his forearms wrapped around my neck.

The steady, deep pounding of his heart against my shoulder blades was the only anchor I required to survive the noise of the world.

"Is everything alright, Akane?" he whispered softly, his warm breath tickling my skin, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that filled the empty entryway with an absolute sense of safety.

I closed my eyes, letting my weight sink completely back into his embrace, my fingers squeezing his wrists with a desperate, white-knuckled gratitude.

"Yeah," I murmured, my voice a rough, tired rasp as I forced the image of my half-brother out of my mind. "Don't worry about it, Shin. It was just Kenji... out there on the porch, desperately trying to play the part of a good, caring brother."

In that moment, Shin's grip around me tightened a little.

"Don't forget that you can tell me everything, Akane. I'll stay here, listening to everything." He said, kissing the top of my head.

"Tch— He's not worth our time, ghost boy, so let's just pretend that nothing happened," I replied, gently caressing his forearms.

"Got it, boss," He said.

And then, I stood there in the quiet hallway of my apartment, locked securely within the arms of my boyfriend, while the heavy paper envelope sat crushed in my hand.

The past was actively scratching at the locks of our sanctuary, and the school festival was waiting for us at eight o'clock tomorrow morning, but as I felt Shin's grip tighten around my chest, a dark, dangerous intuition whispered that the real war for our future had officially begun.

————

Author's Note: Here's a small image of Sora Fujimoto, sent by a friend of mine. (It's AI)