Crimson Storms // A Hiroto Amamiya Fiction

Prologue

   With just one name, he was propelled forward as if his own shadow were in hot pursuit.

   "Nakamura Suki."

   He navigated through the bustling hallway, his heart pounding in his chest, his breath quickening, and his legs burning. It was all because of her.

He burst through the gymnasium doors, greeted by an unsettling silence. The students formed a tight circle, obstructing his view of the scene. Pushing through the crowd, he persevered until he reached the center.

His gaze fell upon the bodies scattered on the floor. Bruised and battered, the boys groaned in pain, while she stood amidst the chaos, gripping a bloodied baseball bat.

Her lifeless eyes locked onto his, and she aimed the bat directly at him.

"You're late, Takeru-senpai," she spoke, advancing toward him, the tension palpable in the air. "I waited for you by the gate this morning."

"Suki-"

"I'll see you at lunch," she cut him off coldly, walking past him. The crowd parted, creating a wide berth for her to pass. Suddenly freezing in her tracks, everyone held their breath, fearing they had done something to incur her wrath. "Oh, and... they deserved it, senpai."

As the door slammed shut, Takeru sighed and turned around. He hadn't rushed here because he believed she was in danger. Takeru knew all too well that Suki didn't need saving. He had hurried here because of the bond they shared, the understanding only he possessed. Suki was quick to strike down anyone who dared harm her or those she cared about, often without considering the consequences. And for that reason, Takeru was constantly concerned.

"Take these boys to the infirmary, quickly!" he urgently commanded the students, who promptly took action. Meanwhile, he hurried to catch up with the younger girl.

"Suki!" he called out, and she turned around. His gaze bore into hers as he took hold of her wrists and guided her to an empty classroom, closing the door behind them.

"What is it?" she asked, pulling her wrists away.

"What did they do to you?" Takeru pressed, concern etched on his face. She bit her lip and averted her gaze. "Tell me, Suki."

She remained silent for a moment before sighing, "I'm going-"

"No, you're not." Takeru firmly grasped her wrists, pulling her back. He took the baseball bat from her hand and tossed it aside before retrieving a handkerchief from his pocket. Gently, he held her delicate, small hands, wiping away the blood. "You have to tell me what happened for me to understand you, Suki."

"Why do you need to understand? Can't you just accept that I'm like this? I'm not forcing you to be my friend. You're not my brother, not my blood. You're just some fifteen-year-old guy hanging out with a nine-year-old violent misfit," she snapped, yanking her hand away, glaring at him. "Get lost!"

"No," he responded firmly. "You may not realize it, but I care about you, Suki. You're like a little sister to me, and I always feel the need to protect you, just like I do with Masaki."

"I don't need protection!" She clenched her fists at her sides, eyes blazing.

"You're a great fighter, Suki. Even at such a young age, you can take on anyone. But the real danger isn't around you—it resides within you. And until you recognize that, I will be here to protect you," he stepped closer, enveloping her in a comforting embrace. "I will never leave you."

Liar.