Sometimes, to destroy ice, you do not need flame. Cracks enough.
Yuzuki became quieter.
She was still smiling. Still spoke.
But eyes ... no longer sparkled as before.
I noticed.
And he did not ask.
We changed the place.
I thought out routes, set up the inner codes, watched every movement in the city.
He became a paranoid.
And they acted subtly.
SMS with unknown numbers.
Letters in the mailbox, written by her handwriting.
The voices in the tube were silent until she hung.
"They don't want to kill," she said once. "They want me to disappear."
- You will not disappear.
- And if I can't stand it?
I did not know what to say.
Once we returned - and the door to the shelter was ajar.
Inside, everything was in place.
except one.
photo.
There are two of us. Small, almost invisible. She lay on the table.
I did not leave her.
Yuzuki was shaking.
She held the cup - and tea splashed over the edge.
"This is all the game," I said. - They did not come close. They just play on the nerves.
"Then why am I scared?"
Later I found a note.
In her book.
A page with a bookmark that I have never seen.
The handwriting of her mother. But ... the mother died 5 years ago.
"You will never know who is nearby until it is too late."
Yuzuki read her again and again.
And she was silent.
I began to lose her. Not as an ally.
As the only person because of which my heart was still not beating.
And they knew that.