[Outside the Hospital – Late Afternoon]
The sun casts a soft golden glow as it begins to set behind the hospital.
Birds chirp lazily in the distance. The air feels too peaceful for what everyone’s feeling inside.
Sockoo exits the hospital, her footsteps quiet.
Waiting just outside on the bench are AmyBondo
Amy immediately stands up, giving a bright but fragile smile.
Amy:
“Sockoo! H-Hi! I, uh… thought I’d wait with you today.”
She walks beside her, keeping pace.
“I… I brought your favorite melon soda! Thought maybe we could hang out like old times, y’know? You need a break once in a while…”
Sockoo doesn’t respond, just keeps walking.
Bondo leans against a nearby tree with his arms crossed, expression serious.
Bondo:
“…Still going every day?”
Sockoo stops, not turning around.
Amy gives him a side glance, clearly worried about what he's about to say.
Bondo (bluntly):
“You need to stop this, Sockoo. It’s been three months. You’re wasting your life sitting at his bedside, hoping he’ll wake up. You don’t even know if he .”
Sockoo stiffens.
Amy quickly cuts in, nervous.
Amy:
“Bondo! Don’t say it like that—! She’s just… she’s just trying to be there for him—!”
Bondo:
“I’m not trying to be cruel. I’m being ”
(He looks directly at Sockoo now.)
“He might never come back. The guy took damage no one should have survived. The doctors have no answers. You’re clinging to something that might already be gone.”
The words hit like a slap.
Sockoo slowly turns around, her fists clenched, eyes wet.
Sockoo (quietly, trembling):
“…He’s not gone.”
Bondo:
“You don’t know that.”
Sockoo (stronger now):
“I I it. He’s in there. Fighting.”
Her voice cracks.
Sockoo:
“I was the one he protected. I was the one he trusted. If I give up on him now… then what was everything for?”
Bondo narrows his eyes, then sighs—more disappointed than angry.
Bondo (soft but firm):
“And what if he in there anymore? What if what wakes up…
Hajime?”
Amy gasps slightly, covering her mouth.
Sockoo just stares, her expression cracking.
A long silence falls between them.
Sockoo turns her back to them both, voice shaking.
Sockoo:
“Then I’ll stay… until I Even if the world forgets him—I won’t. Even if he’s never the same… I’ll still be here.”
She starts walking away, her shadow long in the evening light.
Amy looks at Bondo, clearly upset.
Amy (quietly):
“…You could’ve said it nicer.”
Bondo (sighs):
“I know.”
He watches Sockoo disappear around the corner of the hospital entrance.
Bondo (quietly, more to himself):
“…I just don’t want her heart to be the next thing that dies.”
[Late Evening – Streets Near the Hospital]
Sockoo walks alone, head down, hands in her jacket pockets. The fading orange sky reflects in the quiet puddles on the ground. Cars pass now and then, but the world feels distant.
As she turns the corner near a cozy local café, she hears laughter. Light. Gentle. Normal.
She looks up.
Through the window of "Crescent Beans Café,"DakaRizraEmily
Daka is holding a forkful of cake, talking with exaggerated hand gestures.
Rizra, arms crossed but smirking, clearly just made a sarcastic remark.
Emily is laughing—genuinely laughing—bright eyes focused on the two of them.
They all seem… okay.
Sockoo pauses. Her eyes soften with a small, bittersweet sadness.
She stares for a moment longer before Daka glances outside—and spots her.
He freezes.
Then raises a hand, waving casually.
Daka:
“Hey, Sockoo!”
Rizra and Emily both turn, surprised.
Emily stands up and gestures enthusiastically toward the door.
Emily (calling out):
“Come join us! It’s warm in here!”
Rizra doesn’t say anything, but she watches Sockoo carefully, waiting.
Sockoo hesitates. One foot forward… then back.
She looks away for a second. The ache in her chest is heavy.
But something about the warmth inside… the normalcy… it tugs at her.
Finally, she walks in.
The bell jingles gently above the café door.
The three inside watch her, a bit cautiously—but hopeful.
Daka (softly):
“…Glad you came.”
Rizra:
“You look like a walking ghost.”
Emily pulls a chair out beside her with a small smile.
Emily:
“Sit down. You could use a little light right now.”
Sockoo sits. For the first time in months, she allows herself to breathe in that moment.
Even if it’s fragile. Even if Hajime isn’t awake yet.
For now… this warmth was something she hadn’t realized she missed.
The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.
[Crescent Beans Café – A Moment of Light and Weight]
Sockoo quietly sits down at the table. The warm glow of the café contrasts the heaviness in her chest. A cup of cocoa is slid toward her by Emily with a soft, encouraging smile.
Emily:
“Your favorite… right?”
Sockoo nods slowly, holding the cup with both hands for warmth. The others don’t push her to talk—not right away. For a few minutes, they sit in a comfortable silence as soft acoustic music plays in the background.
Daka (breaking the quiet):
“…You know, Rizra tried to fight a waiter here last week because they forgot her caramel syrup.”
Rizra (rolling her eyes):
“He disrespected the concept of dessert. I had every right.”
Emily (laughs):
“Yeah, yeah, and then she tipped him five stars on the app anyway.”
Sockoo smiles faintly—just for a second—but they all catch it.
Daka (watching her):
“It’s good to see your face again.”
Sockoo’s fingers tighten slightly around her cup.
Sockoo (quietly):
“I go to the hospital every day. I talk to him like he's awake... like he’s just listening with his eyes closed.”
Silence.
Emily:
“I think… he listening, Sockoo.”
Rizra (blunt, but not cold):
“His body’s healing. But maybe his mind isn’t done fighting yet.”
Sockoo (looking down):
“But it’s been . The doctor said he should’ve woken up weeks ago. What if... what if he doesn’t want to come back?”
Daka (serious now):
“That’s not Hajime. That idiot would come back from the underworld just to yell at us for eating cake without him.”
Sockoo lets out a small breath, half a laugh, half a sob. Her eyes shimmer a little.
Sockoo:
“I just… I miss him. And I hate how the world moved on without him. How people smile again like nothing happened. I go to school, and the music club feels
Like I’m pretending everything’s okay when it’s not.”
Emily (softly):
“We miss him too. All of us.”
Daka:
“But Hajime didn’t fight and nearly burn himself to death so we’d break down. He did it to protect us—so we could Not walk around like we’re half-dead.”
Rizra:
“He’d be pissed if he saw you like this, Sockoo.”
Sockoo looks down. Her fingers tremble.
Sockoo:
“…Then maybe I should be stronger.”
Emily:
“You strong. You’re still here. That matters.”
Daka (leans back):
“Anyway, when he wakes up, he’s probably gonna scream ‘rage on’ and pass out from seeing how many hospital bills he racked up.”
Sockoo (smiling more clearly now):
“…He would.”
They all share a small laugh. The air lightens just a bit.
Outside, snow begins to fall gently.
Inside, the warmth of their bond holds steady.
For the first time in a long time, Sockoo feels like maybe she isn’t carrying this alone.
[Crescent Beans Café – A Plan for Strength]
Daka slams a bright red poster
Daka (firm):
“That’s it. Sitting around waiting won’t bring Hajime back. We need to get ”
Emily (leaning forward, reading):
“‘Striker’s Tournament’… A team fighting event. Open to anyone, no rank required. Winner gets a custom spellforge set and one wish granted by the sponsors… whoa.”
Rizra (raising an eyebrow):
“That’s not just a small tournament. That’s ”
Daka (determined):
“We need to be better—faster, smarter, We do this for Hajime. Train, fight, push past our limits.”
He looks to Sockoo, but her expression darkens. She stares at the poster, then looks away.
Sockoo (quietly):
“…I don’t think I can, Daka.”
She gently sets down the half-finished cocoa.
Sockoo (standing):
“Thanks for the drink, guys.”
She turns and heads toward the door, her scarf fluttering slightly behind her.
Daka (calling out):
“Sockoo—think about it, alright?”
She pauses in the doorway but doesn’t turn around. Then she walks out into the snow.
The café falls silent for a moment.
Daka (sighing, slumping in his seat):
“Great. Now I gotta pay for Sockoo’s drink too, huh?”
Rizra (deadpan, smacking him on the head):
“You’re the one who slammed down a life-changing poster like it was a menu.”
Daka (rubbing his head):
“Ow! Seriously?”
Emily (smiling softly):
“Still… it’s not a bad idea.”
Daka (smirking through the pain):
“She’ll come around. She just needs time.”
The camera lingers on the poster. A spotlight-like glow hits the bold words:
“STRIKER’S TOURNAMENT”
The first step toward a new future has been placed.
[Sockoo’s Room – That Night]
The sky outside is a cloudy gray. Snowflakes tap gently against the window.
Sockoo steps into her quiet home, dropping her bag by the door without a word. The house feels colder than usual—silent and still, like it’s been holding its breath for months.
She walks to her room.
No music.
No lights.
Just the hum of the heater and the dim orange glow from her window blinds.
She takes off her jacket, her scarf, then slowly pulls off her uniform, folding each piece robotically, like she’s done it a thousand times with no thought. Her eyes are glazed, her motions tired.
She slips into a hoodie—one of Hajime’s old ones she never gave back—and quietly climbs into bed.
The moment her head hits the pillow…
The tears come.
Sockoo (soft, trembling):
“…Why won’t you wake up…?”
Her body curls up tighter, hugging the sleeves around her chest as if they were Hajime’s arms.
Sockoo (choking, voice cracking):
“I’m sorry… I should’ve stopped you. I should’ve taken the hit. I should’ve—should’ve done ”
Tears spill into the pillow. She covers her face, but her sobs escape through her fingers.
The moonlight breaks through a thin gap in the blinds, landing on a framed photo on her dresser:
The Music Club, all smiling, with Hajime in the center.
Happy. Whole.
The sound of her crying slowly fades into the silence of the night.
[Late Night – Sockoo’s Room]
The soft hum of the heater continues. Sockoo’s face is buried in her pillow, tear-stained and red. But the tears don’t stop.
She turns to her side, facing the wall, clutching the fabric of Hajime’s hoodie tightly against her chest. Her voice is almost a whisper—but sharp with pain.
Sockoo (whispers):
“…It’s all because of me…”
Her fingers tremble.
Sockoo (voice rising slightly):
“If I wasn’t an Itsuki… if I wasn’t born into that cursed clan… you wouldn’t have been dragged into this.”
Her eyes widen, staring blankly at the wall as memories flash through her mind: her family’s name being whispered in fear… the elders pressuring her… the expectations, the politics, the betrayals… and Strikeka—always tied to her clan’s history.
Sockoo:
“You tried so hard to protect me. To protect And what did I do? I just stood there while you—while you…”
Her voice breaks again. She clutches her head, pulling her knees to her chest under the blanket.
Sockoo:
“You almost because of me. They’ll never say it… but I know it. I
it was because of who I am. Because you were close to ”
Her voice sharpens, bitter.
Sockoo:
“Stupid bloodline… stupid cursed family… stupid me.”
She slams her fist into the bed, teeth clenched as more tears spill out.
Sockoo:
“If I wasn’t an Itsuki… maybe… you could’ve just lived a normal life.”
She finally curls back into a ball, quieter now. Her voice barely audible.
Sockoo:
“You could’ve smiled more… laughed more… not had to fight like that.”
The clock ticks in the background. It’s late—but she doesn’t care.
Sockoo (soft, broken):
“I don’t want the name ‘Itsuki’ anymore… I just want you to wake up…”
And in the moonlight, she finally cries herself to sleep—quiet, but shattered.
[Next Day – Hospital Room, Morning Light]
The sun cast a soft glow through the curtains of Hajime’s hospital room. Machines quietly beeped beside him. Hajime still hadn’t moved—still pale, still unmoving.
But today was different.
The door opened sharply. Sockoo entered, her eyes hollow from another sleepless night—but her steps had fire in them.
Inside, BakuBella
They both turned at the sound of the door.
Baku:
“…Sockoo.”
Sockoo (coldly):
“What are you doing here?”
Baku took a slow breath, stepping forward.
Baku:
“I just wanted to—"
Sockoo (cutting him off, voice rising):
“No. I said, what are you doing here?! You don’t get to
like this.”
Bella slowly backed up. Baku raised a hand, trying to remain calm.
Baku:
“Sockoo, I’m his father—”
Sockoo (angrily):
“No. You’re the who abandoned him! Hajime what you did. How you treated him. How you left him with scars no blade could match.”
Her fists clenched.
Sockoo:
“For a long time, I tried. I to understand. I tried to help him forgive you. I told myself maybe you were scared, maybe you didn’t know what to do, maybe he needed you more than he realized.”
She looked at Hajime’s face—so peaceful, yet so broken.
Sockoo (voice trembling):
“But then… then I saw father again. And I remembered that forcing someone to forgive—forcing someone to accept pain they didn’t ask for—is just another kind of cruelty.”
She turned her gaze back to Baku, fiery.
Sockoo:
“Hajime made his choice. He doesn’t want to see you. He doesn’t want to forgive you. And that’s right.”
Sockoo:
“So Both of you.”
Bella looked at Baku, nodding quietly.
Bella:
“…Okay. Let’s go.”
She gave Sockoo a soft, regretful glance, then stepped past her.
Baku lingered. His face was torn, but he gave in. With a final glance at his son, he turned and walked out the door.
The door clicked shut. Silence.
Sockoo exhaled, her whole body finally relaxing after the tension.
She walked over to Hajime’s side, sat down quietly, and rested her hand on his.
Sockoo (softly):
“I’m sorry… I won’t let anyone push you again. I promise.”
She laid her head beside his arm, closing her eyes.
Striker’s Tournament signals a shift: from waiting and despair to action, growth, and the pursuit of strength—for Hajime, for themselves, and for the future. This chapter closes the mourning period while opening the door to the next stage of their journey, emphasizing loyalty, resilience, and the first steps toward reclaiming agency in a world still fraught with danger.
