The halls were almost empty now.
Most students had already left. A few stragglers rushed past, bags clutched tight. Wind rattled the windows.
Room 722.
I turned the knob. The door swung open with a creak.
Empty.
The puzzle pieces still scattered. The mystery novels lined the shelves, spines cracked and faded.
I checked the drawer—still half-open. The tray, still turned. Nothing new. Whoever had been moving things hadn't come back.
No Hani.
I pulled the door shut.
---
The library was quiet.
Too quiet.
The storm had chased everyone out. Only the emergency lights were on, casting long shadows across the empty tables.
I checked the usual spots. The study carrels in the back. Hani's favorite corner spot near the history section.
Nothing.
At the entrance, Kaede sat behind the desk, sorting returned books. The same measured calm she always carried.
She looked up when I approached.
"Have you seen Hani?"
"No." Her voice stayed even. Then she added, "She wouldn't come here today anyway. Not with the storm."
Something in her tone made me listen closer.
Kaede's fingers stilled on the book spine. Her eyes shifted—just for a second—before settling back on me.
"The noise," she said. "Rain on the skylights. She mentioned it once. Said it reminded her of... something. Guitar strings, maybe."
The pause stretched.
"If you find her," Kaede said quietly, "let me know if she's okay."
She sounded like she already knew something was wrong.
I turned and left without answering.
---
The courtyard was nearly deserted. Wind whipped through the open space.
The few students still outside hurried toward the gates, heads down against the rain turning heavy.
I scanned the benches. The covered walkways. The alcove near the east wing where we'd sat just yesterday.
Empty.
Her bag was still in the classroom. She hadn't left campus.
Room 722 was too public. The library—Kaede confirmed she hadn't gone there. The courtyard offered no privacy.
I pieced together what I knew. She hides in unlikely private spaces. Places where no one would think to look.
The Olympiad accusation came back to me. Kenta and Aria's photo. When they confronted her, she never defended herself. Never explained where she'd been during that break. Just took it—the suspicion, the polished story they'd built, all of it—without a word.
Her face when I asked afterward. The way her hands had clenched. The exhaustion etched into every line of her posture—not from studying, but from holding something back.
She'd been somewhere that day. Somewhere she couldn't explain.
Not avoiding accusation. Protecting something smaller. Something that would've been worse to explain than staying silent.
Elite section pressure. Monthly rankings. Olympiad training. No room to crack, no room to break down, nowhere safe to—
The pieces clicked.
Unlikely private spaces, no noise tolerance, somewhere she'd hidden before.
Somewhere no one would look.
I turned and started walking.
---
The second-floor women's restroom stood at the end of the east wing hallway.
I stopped outside the door.
Behind me, water lashed the windows in sheets.
Her bag was still in class. She hadn't left. If my deduction was right—
I took a breath.
Then pushed the door open.
---
Inside, the air felt heavy. Still.
Four stalls lined the wall. Three doors hung open, empty. The last one was closed.
There.
I stepped forward, shoes echoing against the tile. Beneath the door—worn sneakers, laces frayed at the ends. The same ones she'd been wearing since the club started.
I walked closer and knocked softly. "Hani."
No response. I knocked again. "I know you're in there."
A rustle. Fabric shifting. Then silence.
Her voice came out thick, rough. Like she'd been asleep.
"...Eiji?"
"Yeah."
The lock clicked.
The door opened slowly.
Hani stood there—ponytail half-undone, strands stuck to her face. Her eyes were puffy, ringed with exhaustion. Uniform wrinkled like she'd slept in it.
She looked disoriented. Caught.
"How did you—"
"Your bag's still in class," I said. "Figured you hadn't gone home."
She looked down, fingers gripping the stall door edge. "I just... needed a minute."
"You've been here half an hour."
Her head snapped up, eyes wide. "Wait, I skipped classes?"
I kept my face blank. "Technically."
She stepped forward, panic flashing across her face—
"Classes got suspended," I said. "Storm. No school tomorrow either."
She stopped. Stared at me. Then exhaled, shoulders dropping.
"That's not funny."
She punched my shoulder—not hard, but enough to make her point.
"I wasn't joking about the suspension though."
Her mouth twitched. Not quite a smile, but close.
She crossed her arms, defensive now. "How did you find me?"
I leaned against the sink counter. "You wouldn't go somewhere obvious. Somewhere private where you could stop being watched."
Her jaw tightened.
"This is also where you were during the Olympiad session, right?" I said. "When Kenta and Aria accused you."
Her shoulders went rigid.
"You always do this." Her voice carried something between frustration and relief. "Find me when I'm hiding."
She tilted her head, eyes going distant. "Remember that summer? We were playing hide-and-seek near the old playground. I went into the storage shed behind the community center, and the door jammed shut. No one could find me. Not for almost half an hour."
The memory surfaced—everyone searching, calling her name. Then I'd noticed the shed door was closed when it shouldn't have been.
"I was panicking in there." Her voice softened. "Then the door opened, and it was you."
I shrugged. "The door was stuck. Not locked."
"You didn't make a big deal out of it." She paused. "Same as now."
---
The storm intensified outside, water pounding a steady rhythm against the hallway windows.
We walked into the hallway.
At the stairwell, she stopped. Looked down at the steps, then sat on the third one from the top.
I sat beside her.
She looked down at her hands, fingers twisting once.
"I didn't mean to fall asleep." Her voice cracked at the edges. "I just—it's the only place no one looks for me."
She laughed—weak, hollow. "Pathetic, right? Hiding in a bathroom stall when you..."
She trailed off. "I told you to stop hiding on rooftops. And here I am."
"It's not pathetic."
She looked up, surprised.
"You needed to stop performing," I said. "This was the only place you could."
Her eyes held mine for a beat too long. Then her gaze dropped to the floor.
"It's exhausting." The word came out thin, stretched. "Being around people all the time. Talking, smiling, answering questions about rankings and Olympiad prep. Everyone wants to know how I'm doing it. Like I have some secret."
She leaned back against the wall.
"And with you..." Her voice dropped. "We're in the same club now. We solve puzzles together. We sit in Room 722 like we're back to how things were... But it doesn't feel the same..."
The words sat between us, unresolved.
"What do you call this feeling," she said, "where we're together all the time, yet our hearts seem to drift further apart?"
I didn't have an answer.
"...I don't know," I said finally. "But I feel it too."
The storm pressed harder against the glass, non-stop.
Hani exhaled, shoulders slumped. "I just want a break. From rankings, from the pressure… from always having to hold it together."
I looked toward the window. Rain streaked the glass in heavy lines.
"Maybe the rain gave us that," I said. "The break you need. What we all need."
She followed my gaze. Watched the storm outside.
"Yeah," she said quietly. "Maybe it did."
---
Silence settled between us again. Lighter now.
"We should head out. Storm's getting worse."
I nodded.
We walked together. At the threshold, she hesitated, gaze tracking down the empty hallway.
"Thanks," she said. "For looking for me. For not making it weird."
"Wasn't weird."
She smiled. "It was a little weird. But in a good way."
As we got our bags from our classroom, we headed toward the entrance and pulled up short.
The rain was relentless now. Wind whipping across the empty campus.
Hani pulled her bag closer. "I don't have an umbrella."
Neither did I.
My hand moved toward my pocket. Still empty. I'd been walking without it all afternoon.
I looked at her. At the rain. Then back at her.
A picture snapped in my mind. When she ran through the rain. After she got removed from Olympiad consideration.
I should've gone with her that time.
I stepped forward, into the rain.
Cold water hit immediately—soaking through my blazer, my hair, running down my face. I turned back.
"You coming?"
Hani stared at me like I'd lost my mind. Then her mouth curved into something between disbelief and amusement.
"You're serious."
"Storm's going to get worse. May as well go now."
"We could wait—"
"Or we could stop waiting."
Something flickered in her eyes.
She adjusted her bag. Took a breath.
Then stepped out beside me.
The rain hit her hard—soaking her uniform, her hair coming completely loose from its ponytail. She gasped, then laughed.
"This is insane!"
"Probably."
We started walking. Not running. Just walking through the downpour like it was normal.
Water pooled in my shoes. My blazer clung heavy against my shoulders.
Hani looked over at me, rain streaming down her face. Her laugh came louder this time—real, unguarded.
"Everyone's going to think we're crazy!"
"No one's watching."
She went quiet. Then softer, "That's the point, isn't it?"
I glanced at her. She was looking ahead, rain streaming down her face, something unspoken in the set of her jaw.
We kept walking.
The rain kept falling.