Chapter 3: The Hidden Side of Her Words
After school, just as promised, they exchanged diaries again.
It had become a quiet routine now.
No ceremony. No fanfare.
Just a soft thank you, a mutual nod, and the feeling of holding each other's thoughts in their hands.
Katsumi didn't think too deeply about it.
Not yet.
---
That evening, after taking a long bath, Katsumi stood in front of the mirror, towel draped over his shoulders. He dried his hair absentmindedly while glancing at the diary sitting on his desk.
Utsuro's pink-covered notebook with the ribbon.
The same one that had been so full of hearts and cheerful doodles just the day before.
He sighed, dropped the towel on his chair, and picked it up.
Might as well read it before bed.
He opened to the first page.
> Dear Katsumi,
I read all your answers! You're so honest—it makes me smile. I want to know more. I want to know everything about you.
He chuckled faintly. That sounded like her.
He flipped to the next page.
And paused.
The handwriting was different now.
Less clean. Messier. As if she'd written faster. Or harder.
> You said you don't think about much when you wake up… but don't you ever think of me? Even once? Just once would be enough. I think of you every morning. I wonder what you're doing. What you're eating. Who you're sitting next to. Are they girls? They better not be girls.
Katsumi blinked.
"…Huh?"
He flipped to the next page.
There were no doodles anymore.
Just long, sharp lines. Red ink scribbled like veins.
> You're mine. You know that, right? I'm the only one who understands you. If anyone tries to take you away, I'll stop them. I'll do anything to protect what we have. Anything.
His fingers tightened slightly around the page.
The next one was worse.
> You once smiled at a girl by the vending machine. I saw it. You probably forgot, but I didn't. I remember everything. Every. Single. Thing. You do. I'm watching, Katsumi.
His breath caught.
And then, on the corner of that page…
A smear.
Dark red.
At first, he thought it was ink. But something about the color—how it bled slightly into the paper fibers—made his skin crawl.
"…What the hell is this?" he muttered.
He flipped to the next page.
A drawing. Of him.
Lying in bed.
Sleeping.
Above it, scrawled in childlike letters:
> You look so peaceful when you're asleep. I wish I could crawl inside your dreams.
Katsumi closed the book.
Slowly.
His hands were cold now.
His heart beat just a little faster than it should.
What… what had he gotten himself into?