There was no space between them now.

Her arms closed around him fully, pulling him into her chest, her body curving around his as she held him in place.

He tried to speak.

It broke apart.

She caught his breath as it hitched, her hand sliding briefly to his throat, feeling the movement there, then back to his chest, pressing again, steady, anchoring.

"I have you," she said quietly. "Stay here with me."

"Why," he said. His voice was thin and uneven. "She said she loved me. She said—why did she—"

"I don’t know," Shizuka said, without hesitation. "I don’t know, Kai."

"She was fine," he said. "Last night she was fine. She was happy. We talked a lot last night."

His voice failed.

His hands came up again.

She caught them.

Both.

Held them for a second, then guided them down, keeping one of his hands in hers while the other returned to his chest under her palm.

He broke.

The sound came out of him low and uncontrolled, his body following it as the tension gave way all at once.

She pulled him closer immediately, tightening her hold, her arms firm around him, her hand moving through his hair once, then settling at the back of his head, holding him there against her.

Her breath stayed against his temple.

Steady.

Close.

She did not loosen her hold when he shook harder.

She tightened it.

"I’m here," she said again, quieter. "You’re here."

The sunlight filled the room again, spreading across the floor exactly where it had been before.

He cried until there was nothing left.

She stayed.

.

.

Shizuka came to the hospital that night because she knew what was going to happen.

She had watched the ghost leave Hana’s body on the rooftop.

She had seen the way it tore out of her, the density of it, the weight of what had been inside it.

A ghost built from that much rage and grief did not leave cleanly when not exorcised.

It did not take everything with it.

It left the feeling behind.

She knew what that meant.

The host does not feel invaded after.

They do not feel influenced.

The thoughts came in their own voice, in their own words, and arrived with the certainty of something already decided.

Every memory turned sharp.

Every mistake held in place. Every conclusion drawn without resistance.

With something that strong, it did not fade.

It built.

She had seen it before.

She knew where it ended.

So after Kaito fell asleep, she went to the hospital, found the room, and climbed into the tree across the courtyard.

She settled onto the branch with her knees drawn up and her hands resting loosely in her lap, and she looked through the dimly lit window.

Hana was awake.

She was sitting upright in the bed, her hands pressed against the sides of her head, her fingers digging into her hair as if she could hold something in place by force.

Her shoulders moved in small, uneven motions.

She rocked.

Forward.

Back.

Forward again.

She stopped.

Then her hands moved.

Her nails dragged against her scalp, hard enough to catch, and she pulled them away and then pressed them back again as if the interruption had not mattered.

Her mouth opened.

Stayed open for a second.

Closed.

Opened again.

No sound reached the window.

Her breathing was visible.

Too fast.

Too shallow.

Shizuka watched.

The subtle dark energy around Hana was not stable.

It pressed outward from her in uneven pulses, gathering and tightening, then surging again, as if something inside her was expanding without control.

The ghost’s residue, a part of it’s negative emotions, had settled fully.

It was working through her.

Every thought Hana had ever avoided was being brought forward and held in place.

Every action she had justified was being stripped of that justification and presented again, complete, without distance.

The worst version of herself was being constructed in front of her from her own memories, piece by piece, until there was nothing else left to look at.

She could not separate it.

That was the cruelty of it.

There was no outside voice.

No break in tone.

No distortion.

It felt like her.

Shizuka had seen it before.

She knew how it progressed.

First came recognition.

Then rejection.

Then the failure of rejection.

Then the collapse.

She watched Hana’s hands move from her head to her thighs.

Flat.

Pressed down.

Holding.

Her fingers tightened.

Her shoulders drew in.

Her head lowered.

The rocking stopped.

The stillness that replaced it was worse.

Hana’s eyes lifted.

Slow.

They moved to the bedside table.

The sunflowers.

She stared at them.

She did not blink.

Time passed.

Shizuka did not count it.

Hana did not move.

The dark energy around her tightened further, no longer pulsing outward, now drawing inward instead, compressing around her body as if everything inside her was being forced into a smaller space.

She reached for her phone.

Her hand was not steady.

She typed.

Stopped.

Deleted.

Typed again.

Her shoulders shifted with the motion, small, uneven movements that did not settle into any rhythm.

She stopped again.

Deleted again.

Her hand hovered.

She closed her eyes.

Tears beaded at the corner.

Typed again.

It was 3:14 a.m.

The message sent.

Then threw away her phone.

Her hands shook.

Then settled down carefully.

As if sudden movement would break something that was already unstable.

Then she sat still.

Her hands turned to the blanket.

Flat.

Her fingers spread.

Her posture held.

Five more minutes passed in complete silence.

Nothing moved.

Like the world itself has paused.

Then—

Hana stood.

The movement came without preparation.

Her legs took her weight.

She did not hesitate.

She walked to the window.

Each step was straight.

Balanced.

The dark energy around her changed.

It flattened.

Settled.

Shizuka watched her reach the window.

Watched her stop.

Watched her hand lift.

Pause.

Then close around the frame.

The window opened.

Cold air moved into the room.

Hana did not step back.

She stood there.

Still.

A minute passed.

Then another.

Then—

She moved.

A dull thud.

A scream.

From below.

Sharp.

Human.

Cut short.

Shizuka did not react.

She sat there for a while longer, her hands still resting loosely in her lap, her gaze fixed on the window, her expression unchanged.

Then she stood.

She left the tree.

She returned to Kaito’s window.

She sat outside it again.

Her knees drawn up.

Her red eyes on him.

She did not look away.

She waited for morning.