Whispers in the Dark

A few days passed, and Advanced Nurturing High School seemed to have fully settled into the rhythm of early summer. The sunlight had grown scorching, and the air carried a lazy, humid warmth. For Class D, plagued by having no points and weighed down by low spirits, a PE lesson in the indoor, climate-controlled swimming pool was a rare chance to catch their breath and unwind.

The swimming pool was hazy with steam. Sunlight filtered through the vast glass dome, scattering soft patches of light across the rippling water. The boys' changing room was filled with the mixed scents of disinfectant, sweat, and youthful hormones, along with plenty of noise and energy. Most of the boys had already changed into their swim trunks. They laughed and horsed around in small groups, ready to rush into the pool.

Kazama In stood in front of his locker. He had already changed into black racing-style swim trunks, the snug fabric outlining his lean, well-proportioned muscles—broad shoulders and a narrow waist, with clearly defined but not overblown pectorals and abs. They held a restrained strength, the result of intense training. Yet unlike the others, he had not taken off his shirt. He was still wearing his dark gray athletic T-shirt, its collar slightly open.

At that moment, a necklace hung quietly against his pale neck. Its main body was made of dark silver metal, as deep as the night sky. Its streamlined design had a futuristic feel, yet also carried the charm of ancient craftsmanship. At its center was a dark red gemstone cut into unusual facets. Beneath the changing room lights, it seemed as if frozen bloodlight flowed slowly within the stone. It echoed the dark red streaks in his hair at his temples, giving off an air of cold mystery. It rested against his collarbone like some strange talisman, or perhaps a silent declaration.

"Hey, Kazama! What's taking you so long?" called a boisterous voice. Ken Sudō, Kanji Ike, and Yamauchi Haruki came over with their arms slung around one another. Sudō wore nothing but swim trunks and showed off the sturdy muscles he had built playing basketball, while Ike and Yamauchi looked rather slight.

Seeing that Kazama was still wearing his shirt, Sudō grinned. "What, are you shy? We're all guys here. What's there to hide? Come on, take it off and let us have a look!" With a mischievous glint in his eye, he reached for the hem of Kazama's shirt. Ike and Yamauchi joined in with laughter and reached out to tug at it too.

"Hey! Sudō, Ike, Yamauchi! Don't do that!" Hirata Yosuke had just changed into his swim trunks. Seeing what was happening, he immediately tried to stop them. His brow furrowed, and his gentle expression turned disapproving. He had always worked to maintain harmony in the class, and he disliked this kind of coercive joke.

But Hirata was too late.

"Rrrip—"

As the three boys tugged and horsed around, they yanked up the hem of Kazama's T-shirt, exposing his firm waist and abdomen.

Time seemed to freeze.

The laughter stopped abruptly.

The smiles on Sudō, Ike, and Yamauchi's faces stiffened, replaced by shock and disbelief. Hirata was also stunned, a flicker of surprise crossing his eyes.

Beneath the lights were Kazama's well-defined abs and sides—what should have been proof of a healthy physique. But even more shocking were the scars covering them, some deep, some faint, some long, some short.

There were long, sharp scars crawling across his sides like centipedes. Old wounds, faded and pale, looked as though he had been struck hard with some kind of blunt object. A few looked newer, dotted or stretched into thin lines, like... shrapnel grazes? The scars crisscrossed his body like ancient totems, branded into his young, powerful frame and silently telling of a brutal past far beyond anything his peers could imagine. They formed a jarring, heart-stopping contrast with his exquisitely handsome face.

A deathly silence fell. The other students in the changing room had turned to look, and they too were left shocked and silent.

Ike swallowed unconsciously, his voice trembling a little. "Th-these are..."

Yamauchi's face went pale, and he stammered, "Ka-Kazama... you..."

Sudō's hand still hung frozen in midair. He quickly pulled it back as though he had been burned. He looked at the scars, then at Kazama's still-calm, unreadable face. A tremendous shock—and an indescribable sense of guilt—rose within him. Suddenly, he remembered Kazama's casual introduction when he had transferred in: "I've never experienced school life." Could it be... could it be that he had never experienced it because he had been suffering through such terrible bullying all along?!

The thought made Sudō's heart clench. He had a short temper, but deep down, he had a strong sense of justice and a protective streak. He couldn't imagine what Kazama had been through.

"S-sorry, Kazama!" Sudō's voice held a rare note of panic and sincere remorse. "We didn't mean to! Really! We didn't know you..." He couldn't finish. He could only think how stupid and hurtful his joke had been.

Ike and Yamauchi hurriedly bowed as well. "We're sorry, Kazama! We were wrong! Please forgive us!"

Kazama slowly lowered the hem of his shirt, his movements unhurried, as though he hadn't been the one who'd just been disrespected. His dark eyes swept over his three classmates' flustered faces, then came to rest on Hirata's, which was full of concern and apology.

"It's fine." His voice was low and calm, revealing nothing of his feelings, as if he were talking about something trivial. "That was in the past." He neither explained where the scars had come from nor accepted or rejected their apologies. He simply turned the page with an almost indifferent air.

His calmness only made Sudō and the others feel more ashamed, while also stirring a trace of sympathy and awe. What had this guy been through...?

Hirata immediately stepped forward to ease the tension with a gentle smile. "All right, all right. I'm glad we cleared up the misunderstanding. Kazama, are you okay?" When Kazama gave a slight shake of his head, Hirata turned to the others. "Sudō, Ike, Yamauchi, don't do that again. Let's head to the pool before everyone gets tired of waiting."

"Right, right! Let's go swimming!" Ike quickly chimed in, trying to break the awkward silence. He stole a glance at Kazama's waist, now covered by his shirt, and shuddered. Then he couldn't help murmuring, "Still... Kazama, your muscles are really dense..." The brief glimpse had left him with a strong impression of how firm and steel-like they looked.

Sudō and Yamauchi quickly nodded too, careful not to make another joke. A little sheepish, the three followed Hirata and Kazama out of the changing room.

The noisy splashing and laughter rushed into their ears as soon as they left. The vast pool was filled with splashes and the exuberant energy of youth.

The girls were already playing in the water. Wearing her school swimsuit, Karuizawa Kei darted through the water like a mermaid, her clear laughter ringing out now and then and drawing the attention of quite a few boys. She enjoyed being watched and carried herself with confidence. Sato Mari had chosen a relatively conservative one-piece swimsuit. Her movements were a little stiff, but she wore a happy smile as she splashed water back and forth with the girls beside her. Wearing a cute pink two-piece, Kushida Kikyo was as bright as sunshine. She patiently taught several classmates who weren't very good at swimming in the shallow end, winning plenty of approval with her gentle, patient manner.

Away from the noise, Horikita Suzune sat alone by the pool. Her simple dark blue one-piece swimsuit traced the curves of her well-proportioned figure, but she clearly had no interest in joining the others' games. She held a book open across her knees, though her gaze was not focused on the pages. Instead, she looked thoughtfully toward the crowd in the pool, as if observing something. Ayanokoji Kiyotaka sat on a bench not far from her. Wearing ordinary swim trunks, he was just as expressionless, quietly observing everything around him like a background extra. His gaze occasionally swept over Kazama and the others as they emerged.

Kazama's gaze quickly passed over the cheerful scene, lingering briefly on Horikita and Ayanokoji. Then his specially trained senses, as precise as radar, instantly picked up an extremely faint, almost inaudible sound, nearly drowned out by the splashing and chatter.

It was coming from... the ventilation duct?

The swimming pool's ventilation system hummed normally, a low, steady sound. But beneath that hum, from deep within a section of duct connected to the neighboring meeting room area, came an exceedingly faint murmur of deliberately hushed voices. The sound was broken and indistinct, but the cold, calculating, commanding tone struck an immediate chord with Kazama's keen instincts as an "assassin."

Someone was secretly talking in the meeting room, which was supposed to be empty? They clearly didn't want outsiders to hear what they were discussing.

Kazama's steps paused almost imperceptibly. A sharp glint flashed deep within his dark eyes. His primary task was to blend in and observe, but he couldn't afford to ignore any potential source of intelligence—especially suspicious behavior like this.

"Kazama, come swim with us! Let's see who's faster!" Sudō called out enthusiastically, trying to make up for his earlier thoughtlessness and get closer to him.

"Yeah, Kazama. With a physique like yours, you must be good at swimming!" Ike echoed.

Kazama quickly suppressed every trace of emotion. His face returned to its usual calmness. He turned to look at the enthusiastic Sudō and Ike, then glanced at Horikita and Ayanokoji, who seemed indifferent but might actually be watching him.

"Sorry." He gave a slight shake of his head, his voice carrying just the right hint of apology. "I'm suddenly feeling a little unwell. I want to use the restroom. Go ahead without me." He casually picked the most ordinary excuse, and the one least likely to invite questions: he needed to pee.

"Huh? You don't feel well? Is it serious?" Hirata immediately asked with concern.

"It's nothing. I may have had too much to drink. Excuse me." Without giving anyone time to respond, Kazama turned and headed away from the pool. His pace was steady but quick as he left the noisy area.

His figure soon disappeared around the corner leading to the changing rooms and interior corridors.

Ayanokoji Kiyotaka's gaze followed the direction in which Kazama had vanished. A faint flicker of puzzlement crossed his otherwise emotionless eyes. "Suddenly feeling unwell?" He had just seen Kazama's posture when he left the changing room. There had been nothing unusual about it; his breathing was steady, and for a moment, his gaze had even been unusually sharp. That excuse was... far too abrupt. Considering the confrontation in the changing room and those shocking scars on his body, Ayanokoji felt that Kazama had left for something far more complicated than a trip to the restroom.

Horikita Suzune also frowned slightly and closed the book on her knees, which she hadn't actually been reading. Kazama's departure left her with a vague sense that something was wrong, though she couldn't say exactly what.

The pool remained noisy, and the splashing water refracted the sunlight into a rainbow of colors. Karuizawa Kei's laughter rang out, Sudō was just diving into the water to sprint, and Hirata watched everyone with a smile. Everything seemed perfectly normal, filled with the carefree atmosphere of school life.

But Kazama had already slipped silently into the shadows of the swimming pool's complex interior corridors. Like a skilled hunter, he followed the faint whisper, heading toward its source in the ventilation duct—the mysterious meeting room. The dark red gemstone on his necklace occasionally flashed with a cold gleam in the dim corridor. Beneath the calm surface, the currents were stirring once more.