Shido didn't stop laughing. Even as the towel flew through the air, his smirk didn't fade for a second. "Come on, Hori! If your mom is the Dreaded Empress, what did you save your dad as? 'The Royal Therapist'? 'The Imperial Mind-Doctor'?" He laughed, wiping another tear from his eye, entirely amused by his own jokes
As the tightly twisted fabric zipped closer and closer to his face, Shido suddenly squeezed his eyes shut. His laughter stopped, replaced instantly by a look of complete, well focus. He shifted his weight, switching into his ultimate heroic mood.
"A Hero...." Shido declared, his voice dropping into a deep, incredibly dramatic philosopher tone as if he were reciting poetry to a stadium, "Never falls to the same trick twice. The path of a legend is full of flying laundry, yet my tragic soul shall prevail."
With absolute, flawless timing, he casually tilted his head to the left.
WHOOSH.
The towel brushed past his dark blue spikes, missing his nose by a mere millimeter. Shido snapped his eyes open, flashing a triumphant, blinding grin as he crossed his arms proudly.
"Hah! Missed! You can't defeat the hardworking main character that easily, Princess!"
Hori's jaw dropped in complete disbelief. She stomped her foot against the floor, her fists trembling. "Are you kidding me?! How on earth did you dodge that?!"
While Shido was busy flexing his 'heroic' reflexes and Hori was pouting in pure frustration, the flying towel was on a completely different mission. It didn't just stop after missing Shido. Driven by Hori's immense rage, the fabric kept sailing right across the kitchen area.
Kento's green eyes tracked the direction of the towel and his expression instantly went from amused to pure alarm. He noticed the exact path of the towel. It was heading directly toward the far corner of the room.
Right towards Kashima.
Kashima was standing completely unbothered by the loud explosions of comedy around him. His hands were slid smoothly into his uniform pockets, his tall body leaning rigidly against the wall as his blue eyes stared blankly at the floor, completely drowned in his own heavy thoughts.
Kento quickly raised one hand in the air, pointing frantically toward the corner.
"Kashima! Watch out!"
Hearing his name, Kashima's head instinctively turned toward the voice.
SMACK
The wet, balled-up kitchen towel hit him square in the face with a loud, heavy thud. It stuck to his cheek for a split second before sliding down his uniform shirt.
The kitchen instantly went dead silent.
Hori's face drained of all its color, her pink eyes widening in pure terror. She put her hands over her mouth, taking a step back. "Oh no... Kashima! I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to—"
"No, no, no! We're dead!" Shido screamed, instantly breaking out of his hero pose.
He fell straight to his knees on the wooden floor, clutching his head in his hands like a tragic actor whose world had just ended. "My innocent eyes are about to witness a murder! My brother, my legacy—it's all over! The Ice Prince is going to freeze us into literal ice cubes! Have mercy, Kashima!"
Kento slapped his palm flat against his forehead, letting out a long, exhausted sigh. He looked at the blonde boy with a mixture of pity and dread. "I told you to watch out..." he muttered under his breath.
But the reaction they were all hoping for never came.
Kashima didn't blink. He didn't turn into a raging monster, and he didn't shot a cold, deadly glare at Hori. With completely steady, unbothered fingers, he simply reached down, picked the fallen towel up from his shirt, and casually placed it down on the edge of the kitchen table.
Hori blinked, completely stunned by the absolute lack of a reaction. 'What the...?' she thought, looking between Kento and the blonde boy. 'He didn't even yell?'
Kento's brow furrowed, his green eyes scanning his friend's blank expression. A sudden concern sparked in his mind. 'Is he actually okay? Normally he would have thrown a napkin back or called Shido an idiot by now.'
Shido, being the greatest and most shameless showman in the house, slowly dragged himself up from the floor. He crept toward the corner, his blue eyes wide with suspicion as he approached Kashima like he was inspecting a strange creature.
He reached out, cautiously placing a hand near the boy's forehead. "Uh... Kashima? Ice Prince? Are you broken? Do you have a severe fever or something? You're acting way too peaceful, it's creeping me out."
"Shido! Shut up!" Hori whispered-yelled from the table, waving her hands frantically to pull him back. "Don't make him angry on purpose!"
But unbeknownst to all of them, Kashima wasn't even hearing their voices. The loud bickering, Shido's theatrical panic, and Hori's apologies were just background noise. He was lost entirely in his own dark world, his mind completely consumed by a single, terrifying question.
What exactly was Mr. Kamitani talking about outside in the hall?
Underneath the harsh, buzzing fluorescent light, Kashima's vision was blurring at the edges.
His eyes were locked on the heavy wooden kitchen door, staring at it with a desperate panic. 'Where is Mr. Kamitani? Who is on the other end of that phone call?'
The thoughts spun in his head like a violent loop. 'If he finds out... if Mr. Kamitani figures out what happened last night... I'm going to be arrested. They're going to put the handcuffs on me right here.'
His lungs felt completely starved of air, his chest tightening so hard it ached. Images from the past Seventeen Hours flashed behind his eyes like broken glass—the sickening pool of dark, sticky blood spread across the black Mercedes' bumper.
The memory of himself collapsing over the bathroom sink at home, vomiting violently until his throat burned, unable to wash the dreadful sight from his mind.
He remembered the hollow, freezing silence of his house that very morning. The crushing weakness in his limbs. He did not want to go to school. He didn't want to face a single soul or let anyone see the pathetic, trembling wreck he had become.
He had desperately craved a single shred of warmth, a hand on his shoulder—but no butler, no maid, no one had approached him. He was completely alone in a mansion that felt like a tomb.
He couldn't stand the sight of his own killer father, and his constant, repeated calls to his mother had gone completely unanswered.
And then, the absolute breaking point from this morning echoed in his ears. Mr. Kamitani's voice revealing the truth. 'Mrs. Amamiya's only child... Asuka... she is no longer in this world.'
The memory had made Kashima's stomach turn so violently that he had flee to the bathroom, sobbing in absolute agony, hitting his own head against the wall, trying desperately to throw the suffocating guilt out of his chest. He had tried so hard to hide it. To bury it.
SNAP.
The sharp, crisp sound of a finger snapping right in front of his face violently pulled him back to reality.
Kashima's eyes focused, his pupils widening.
The dark, bloody images shattered, and he suddenly realized that all three of his friends were standing right in front of him, staring at him with deeply worried expressions.
"Kashima really isn't well.." Kento said, his usual dry voice completely replaced by a sharp, urgent edge of concern.
Hori quickly shoved a clean handkerchief into Shido's hands, her pink eyes wide with anxiety. "Wipe his forehead! Quickly!"
Shido didn't even drop a single joke. His face was entirely serious as he stepped forward, gently using the cloth to wipe away the cold, heavy sweat drenching Kashima's brow.
"Kashima? Hey, Ice Prince, talk to us."
"Kashima, please, look at me!" Hori pleaded, her voice trembling.
Kashima blinked blankly, his throat completely dry. "...Huh?"
Hori stepped past Kento, moving right into Kashima's personal space until she was standing directly in front of him. There was a clear, heavy contrast between her small, fragile frame and his tall, tense body. She liked straight up, her pink eyes searching his pale face with intense worry.
"You're completely white..." Hori whispered, her hands shaking. "Kashima, if you're not well, we need to get you home. Should we get you back to your house?"
Home.
His house.
The words triggered a sickening physical reaction. The thought of returning to that cold, empty fortress, of seeing that blood-stained car, of facing the monstrous hands of his father—the same hands that had gripped his own collar just hours ago—shattered whatever control he had left.
Kashima slammed a hand over his mouth and coughed.
"Cough! Hack! Cough!"
It wasn't a normal cough; it was a violent, painful cough that ripped straight from his throat and shook his entire chest. The raw, harsh sound echoed painfully against the kitchen walls, making his ribs ache with every desperate breath.
"Oh my god! Kashima!" Hori screamed, backing away in terror.
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