Khan stepped out into the hall with a sad face already locked in.
A teacher paced near the vending machines, phone pressed to her ear. Another leaned against the wall, eyes red, jaw tight.
"Khan," someone said. "You hear."
Khan broke down. Tears came hard and fast. The ugly kind that wrecked his breathing and made his shoulders jerk. His hands came up to his face too late to stop it. He pressed his palms into his eyes and bent forward, forehead almost to his knees.
"Khan. Hey. Khan."
A hand hovered near his shoulder.
"I heard," a teacher said. Her voice shook. "About Iida."
Khan sucked in a breath that tore his throat raw. He nodded, still hiding his face.
"I told him," he managed. The words came out thick. "I told him to be careful. I told him not to rush."
That part was true enough to pass any lie detector worth its salt.
Another sob punched out of him. He dragged a sleeve across his eyes and didn't bother wiping his nose. Let it run. Let it be messy. People trusted mess.
"I should've done more," he said. "I should've seen it coming."
Someone crouched to his level.
"You couldn't have known," the woman said. "None of us did."
Khan laughed, sharp and broken. "That's what we say every time."
The hallway had gone quiet. Doors cracked open. Faces peeked out, then pulled back.
Khan pushed himself up, shaky. A hand finally touched his elbow to steady him.
"I need a minute," Khan said. His voice cracked again, right on cue. "I'm not fit to see students right now."
"That's fine," Someone said. "I'll handle coverage."
"Thank you," Khan replied.
Someone handed him tissues. He took them with a murmured thanks and wiped his face. Tears kept coming anyway.
"I had him in here," Khan said. "Just a few days ago. He was disciplined, steady. Talking about responsibility."
"You did your job," someone said.
Khan laughed again, bitter this time. "Feels like I failed it."
The same woman held onto him. It wasn't clear if she was steadying him or herself.
"Go home. Rest," she said.
Khan shook his head. His face was red, wet, honest in a way that made people uncomfortable.
"I… I just needed this," he said. His voice cracked and he let it. "I'm fine. I just needed it out."
She frowned. "You're not fine."
"I need to stay. Students are gonna take this hard."
She hesitated.
"They're gonna need me," Khan went on. His voice wobbled just enough. "I can't disappear today."
She searched his face. Whatever she was looking for, she found enough of it to nod.
"Alright," she said. "But don't push it."
"I won't," he promised, and that was the easiest lie he'd told all day.
She squeezed his arm once more, then let go. Khan stood there a moment longer, hunched, breathing slow, counting in his head until the tremor in his hands looked real.
Then he turned and went back into his office.
He shut the door and locked it.
He leaned back against the door and let his shoulders sag. He slid down until he sat on the floor, back against the wood, knees drawn up. He dragged a hand through his hair and laughed.
"Stay for students," he muttered. "Who the hell was I kidding."
Students were interning. Most weren't near the school. Who would come for counseling at this time?
He grabbed the corkboard off the wall with both hands and ripped it free. The hooks tore out with a crack. Pins scattered across the floor, skittering under the desk and chair. The board hit the opposite wall and slid down, leaving a scuffed mark in the paint.
He grabbed a marker and started to write. Drawings. Printed stills. News clippings. Handwritten notes. Photos blown up from grainy footage. All of it taped and pinned and stabbed in place.
Stain. Three heroes per site. Always three. Always tight windows. Always gone before anyone worth a damn showed up.
Khan stepped closer and stared at it. Colored strings ran between locations, dates, response times. Red for confirmed kills. Blue for sightings. Yellow for rumors that stuck around too long to ignore.
He crouched and followed one line with his finger. Hosu. Before that, Naruhata. Before that, Osaka outskirts. Each cluster fed into the next.
He sank down and sat under the mess he'd made. His back hit the wall. His head tipped forward. He let his arms hang uselessly at his sides.
He cried then. Loud, ugly, breath hitching. He pressed his palms into his eyes and rocked a little, shoulders shaking.
"I'm useless," he said to the empty room.
Hours later, it was dark.
The next morning, his door stayed locked.
By ten, someone noticed.
By ten thirty, someone knocked.
"Khan," a voice called through the door. "You in there."
No answer.
Another knock, harder this time.
"Counselor."
Still nothing.
By eleven, Nezu arrived.
The lock clicked. The door opened.
Nezu paused just inside the threshold.
The office looked wrong. Thrashed. Pins scattered across the floor. The corkboard leaned crooked against the far wall. Strings drooped where they'd been torn loose.
And Khan sat on the floor beneath the wall of Stain, knees pulled up, arms wrapped around them. His eyes were swollen and red. His face looked wrecked. He didn't look up when the door opened.
Nezu took it in without comment. He shut the door behind him and stepped inside.
"Khan," Nezu said.
Khan sniffed and wiped his nose on his sleeve. He laughed weakly. "Guess I overslept."
Nezu didn't answer that. He walked closer, his cane tapping softly on the floor. He stopped a few steps away and looked at the wall.
"W-what is this?" Nezu asked.
Khan shook his head. "This is me pretending I'm smart."
Nezu glanced down at him. "You didn't sleep."
"Couldn't," Khan replied. His voice cracked and he didn't hide it. "Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the footage. The alley. The sheet."
Nezu nodded.
"Staff were worried," Nezu said. "You didn't answer your phone."
Khan pulled it out of his pocket and let it drop back to the floor. "Forgot it existed."
Nezu's gaze flicked back to the wall. "This isn't useful. There is nothing new."
Khan laughed. "I know."
Nezu tilted his head. "Then why."
Khan looked up at him finally. His eyes were raw. His mouth twisted. "Because if I stare at it long enough, maybe it'll turn into something I can fix."
Nezu studied him. "And did it."
"No," Khan said. "It turned into a reminder that I missed it."
Nezu sighed. "You didn't."
Khan shook his head hard. "I had him in my office."
"You're not omniscient," Nezu replied.
Khan barked a laugh. "Feels like I should be."
Nezu was quiet for a moment. Then, "You're grieving."
Khan rubbed his eyes. "I'm failing."
Nezu didn't correct him. He walked to the desk and picked up one of the fallen papers. He scanned it. Set it back down.
"This isn't how you process," Nezu said.
Khan swallowed. "I don't usually lose students."
Nezu's ears twitched. "None of us do. It still happens."
Khan dragged a hand over his face again. "Everyone keeps saying that. Doesn't help."
"No," Nezu agreed. "It rarely does."
"You should go home," Nezu said. "Today."
Khan shook his head again. "I can't."
"Why."
"Because if I leave," Khan said, "it looks like I broke."
Nezu raised a brow. "You did."
Khan flinched.
Nezu continued. "Breaking isn't a crime. It's a response."
Khan closed his eyes. He leaned his head back against the wall. "Give me an hour."
Nezu considered it. "Thirty minutes."
"Fine," Khan muttered.
Nezu turned to leave. He paused at the door. "Clean this up," he added, gesturing to the wall. "It's not helping."
Khan didn't argue.
The door closed.
Khan stayed on the floor a while longer. When the thirty minutes were almost up, he pushed himself to his feet. His legs shook. He grabbed the desk to steady himself and laughed under his breath.
'Nice performance,' he said to himself. 'Five stars. Would cry again.'
He started pulling things down. Strings first. Then papers. He didn't rip them this time. He stacked them neatly on the desk, even the useless ones. Especially the useless ones.
He wiped the wall clean with a damp cloth from the sink. The scuff marks stayed. He didn't bother with them.
When he was done, the office looked normal again. Almost. He just moved them to inside of his closet.
He unlocked the door and stepped into the hall.
People glanced at him. Some stopped. Some offered soft words. Khan thanked them. He smiled when appropriate. He kept it together.
"I'm okay," he said, over and over. "Just needed a moment."
By the end of the day, the story had already settled. Khan took it hard. Khan needed time. Khan cared.
All true enough.
That night, at home, he sat on the couch and watched the news replay Hosu again. He ate cold leftovers straight from the container. He didn't invite anyone over. Sakura texted twice. Hana once. He ignored them all.
The screen showed Iida's name again.
Khan smiled.
"Good," he said quietly. "Now we can move on."
His phone buzzed.
Nezu: Take tomorrow off.
Khan typed back.
Khan: I'll be in. Students need routine.
Three dots appeared. Disappeared.
Nezu: Don't make a habit of martyrdom.
Khan chuckled and set the phone aside.
He stretched out on the couch and closed his eyes. This time, he slept.
**-**
This novel is completed. I'm currently editing the chapters and uploading them to Patreon. If you'd like to read the full novel and support my work, feel free to check it out. Available up to Chapter 85 so far.
patreon.com/EternallyPoor