Just his turn
dark heroThe new school was beginning to feel familiar.
Not comfortable, exactly. Nezu wasn’t sure he would call any school comfortable, but the halls no longer required conscious effort to navigate. He knew which staircase led where, which teachers tended to keep students after class, which doors were usually locked, and which corridors emptied first once the final bell rang.
Segu had adapted faster.
Mostly because she treated familiarity as permission to complain more efficiently.
“This is stupid.”
Nezu kept walking.
“You already said that.”
“I know. It was stupid then too.”
“It’s cleaning duty.”
“After school.”
“Yes.”
“Exactly.”
Nezu glanced at her.
Segu looked genuinely offended by the concept.
Their names had been written on the board that morning with several others, part of a simple rotating schedule that nobody else seemed to find particularly interesting. Stay behind, clean the classroom, put everything back in order, leave when it was done.
Segu had spent most of the day acting as if the school had personally betrayed her.
“I still think they should have people for this,” she said.
“They do.”
Segu looked at him.
Nezu pointed ahead.
“Us.”
She stared at him for a moment.
“I hate you.”
“I know.”
By the time they reached the classroom, most of the students were already preparing to leave. Bags were being thrown over shoulders, chairs scraped across the floor, and several conversations had somehow begun at once before the teacher had even properly stepped outside.
The students assigned to cleaning duty lingered.
For the first few minutes, the work went about as well as Nezu expected.
Which meant badly.
One person swept without moving any chairs. Another moved chairs without helping sweep. Someone spent more time arguing about whether the windows should be opened than it would have taken to open them. Segu got involved in that argument despite having absolutely no reason to care.
Nezu quietly started doing whatever nobody else was doing.
It was easier.
Normal, too.
That was still something he was getting used to.
There had been a time when an afternoon at school meant paying attention to exits, wondering whether someone was watching, or waiting for something to go wrong.
Now the greatest threat in the room was Segu deciding that one of their classmates was deliberately cleaning badly just to annoy her.
Nezu almost found it relaxing.
His phone vibrated.
Segu’s did the same a moment later.
She looked at the screen first.
Her expression shifted.
Not enough that anyone else would have noticed.
Nezu did.
“What?”
“Steve is outside.”
Nezu picked up another chair and placed it on top of a desk.
“Okay.”
“He came for both of us.”
“Then tell him I’m staying.”
Segu frowned.
“We’re nearly done.”
Nezu looked around.
They were not nearly done.
Two students had already left after deciding that their contribution had somehow been sufficient. Another had been called away by a teacher. The remaining work was rapidly becoming theirs by default.
Segu followed his gaze.
“Those bastards.”
Nezu said nothing.
Her phone began ringing.
Segu looked at the screen.
“Steve.”
She answered.
“Yeah?”
Nezu continued sweeping while Segu listened.
“We’re still at school.”
A pause.
“No, nothing happened. We have cleaning duty.”
Another pause.
Segu looked at Nezu.
Her expression changed.
“Why?”
Whatever Steve said made her straighten slightly.
She glanced at Nezu again.
“Fine. I’m coming.”
Nezu looked toward her.
Segu was already watching him.
“No, he’s staying.”
Nezu returned to sweeping.
“It’s just his turn to clean. He’ll come home when he’s done.”
There was another pause.
Segu rolled her eyes.
“Yes, Steve. He can survive being alone for half an hour.”
Nezu looked at her.
She immediately pointed at him.
“Don’t.”
He hadn’t said anything.
“I’ll be outside in a minute.”
Segu ended the call.
Nezu waited.
She didn’t move.
“Go.”
“I’ll finish this first.”
“No.”
“It won’t take long.”
“It will.”
“Then Steve can wait.”
Nezu leaned the broom against a desk.
“Segu.”
“What?”
“If Steve came here instead of calling, and now he’s telling you to come outside, Diana probably wants you home now.”
Segu crossed her arms.
“You don’t even know why she wants me.”
“No.”
“Then stop acting like you do.”
“I’m not.”
“You’re telling me to leave.”
“Because she told you to come back.”
Segu narrowed her eyes.
Nezu had known her long enough to understand that this particular expression meant the argument was not over.
Unfortunately, he had also known her long enough to know that continuing it would change absolutely nothing.
So he picked up the broom and went back to sweeping.
Several seconds passed.
Then Segu exhaled sharply.
“Fine.”
Nezu nodded.
“But you’re coming straight home.”
“Yes.”
“And message me when you’re leaving.”
“Okay.”
“And if they suddenly decide you have to clean the entire building, you don’t.”
“Okay.”
“And don’t wander around.”
Nezu looked at her.
Segu looked back.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“That was a look.”
“It wasn’t.”
“It was.”
“Go home.”
Segu grabbed her bag.
“You’re annoying.”
“I know.”
She reached the doorway, then stopped.
Nezu expected another complaint.
Instead, Segu remained there for a moment, looking back at him as if she were trying to decide whether leaving was actually worth the effort.
“Don’t take forever.”
“I won’t.”
Segu finally left.
The classroom became quieter almost immediately.
Nezu continued working.
There was no particular rush. He could finish, call Steve, and leave. If Steve couldn’t return immediately, Nezu could wait. The school wasn’t far enough away for any of that to matter.
For once, nothing complicated was happening.
He moved the remaining chairs.
Cleaned the board.
Collected the rubbish left under two desks.
Swept beneath the windows.
His bag sat beside his desk the entire time.
He had noticed earlier that it felt heavier than usual, but he had assumed Segu had shoved something into it without telling him again.
That would not have been unusual.
Nezu emptied the small bin beside the teacher’s desk, tied the bag and placed it near the door.
Something moved behind him.
He stopped.
The room was silent.
Nezu looked back.
Nothing.
He waited a moment, then returned to what he was doing.
A soft sound came from near his desk.
Nezu turned again.
His bag moved.
He stared at it.
The movement stopped.
Several seconds passed.
Then the zipper shifted slightly.
Nezu’s eyes narrowed.
A small black paw pushed through the opening.
“…”
The paw disappeared.
A moment later, two yellow eyes appeared in its place.
Nezu stared.
Kuro blinked.
Nezu put down the rubbish bag.
“Why?”
Kuro pushed his head through the opening.
“Meow.”
“That’s not an answer.”
Kuro forced himself farther out, stretched across the top of the bag, then yawned with complete satisfaction.
Nezu finally understood why the bag had been heavier.
“You’ve been in there all day?”
Kuro blinked again.
“How did nobody hear you?”
“Meow.”
Nezu crouched.
Kuro climbed out completely and sat beside the bag as if there was nothing remotely strange about any of this.
There was no guilt in his expression.
Not even a little.
“Segu is going to blame me.”
Kuro began cleaning one of his paws.
Nezu sighed.
“Of course she is.”
He picked him up.
Kuro settled comfortably against him, apparently pleased with the result of his decision to hide inside a school bag for several hours.
“You can’t walk around here.”
Kuro purred.
“That doesn’t change anything.”
The purring became louder.
Nezu looked toward the door, then back at the cat.
Putting him inside the bag again seemed cruel.
Letting him walk around the school was probably worse.
Nezu carried him to the teacher’s desk and put him down.
“Stay.”
Kuro sat.
Nezu pointed at him.
“Stay.”
Kuro blinked slowly.
Nezu decided that counted.
He returned to the other side of the room, picked up the broom and resumed working.
For almost a minute, Kuro behaved.
Then Nezu heard the soft tap of paws against the floor.
He turned.
The teacher’s desk was empty.
“Kuro.”
Nothing.
Nezu looked toward the door.
A black tail disappeared around the frame.
“Kuro.”
He dropped the broom and went after him.
Kuro was already halfway down the corridor.
He wasn’t running.
That somehow made it worse.
He moved at an easy pace, always far enough ahead that Nezu couldn’t simply grab him, but never fast enough to suggest he was actually trying to escape.
“Kuro.”
The cat looked back.
Then continued walking.
Nezu followed.
“You understand you’re making this more difficult.”
Kuro reached the stairwell.
His tail vanished around the corner.
Nezu followed him down one floor, then into another corridor.
By then most of the classrooms were empty. The sounds of students had faded into the distance, replaced by the quiet hum of lights and the occasional noise from another part of the building.
Kuro slowed.
Nezu did the same.
The cat stopped near one of the windows.
His ears moved.
Then his entire posture changed.
Nezu noticed immediately.
Kuro was no longer playing.
His tail lowered. His body became still, eyes fixed on something outside.
Nezu approached the window.
At first, he saw nothing unusual.
The grounds were mostly empty. A few students crossed a distant courtyard. Beyond the fence, cars moved along the road.
Then he noticed the people near one of the side entrances.
Three adults.
And a girl standing between them.
Nezu froze.
Akane.
For a few seconds, that was the only thing that mattered.
He hadn’t expected to see her here.
Not today.
Not standing outside his school with three people he didn’t recognize.
Kuro made a low sound beside him.
Nezu glanced down.
The fur along the cat’s back had begun to rise.
He looked outside again.
Two more men had appeared from the opposite direction.
The three around Akane noticed them immediately.
Nobody waved.
Nobody greeted anyone.
Nobody seemed surprised.
They stopped several metres apart.
Nezu leaned closer to the glass.
One of the newcomers said something.
The window blocked the words.
One of the people beside Akane replied.
Something about the exchange felt wrong.
Not angry.
Worse.
Prepared.
Kuro hissed.
One of the newcomers raised his hand.
Nezu watched.
At first there was nothing.
Then something began gathering around the man’s fingers.
Nezu’s eyes narrowed.
It twisted over itself, dark and indistinct at first, then sharper, denser, until its shape became impossible to misunderstand.
A strange weapon had appeared in his empty hand.
Nezu stared.
That had not been there a second ago.
One of Akane’s companions stepped forward.
Something began forming around his hand too.
Kuro’s hiss became louder.
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