Chapter 2 :Not the Girl You Think I Am
1205 Words
He looked down at her, his face softening into a gentle smile. His hand, large, warm, and calloused from practice or fights cupped her cheek with surprising tenderness. It nearly covered the entire side of her face, and yet the touch was featherlight, calming.
"Can you walk?" he asked, his voice low and soothing.
Akane tried to move, but her legs felt like stone. Her feet were numb, rooted to the pavement from the fear and adrenaline still pulsing through her.
"We have to get out of here," he said quietly.
Without waiting for her answer, he bent down and effortlessly swept her up into his arms. Her breath caught in her throat. Cradled against his chest, she could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat as he dashed out of the alley with long, urgent strides. The cool wind rushed past them, and Akane clung to him instinctively, her thoughts still spinning.
She didn’t even realize she was staring until he stopped.
"Here is okay," he said, gently lowering her to the ground. "You're safe now, uh… young miss."
His voice was calm, maybe even a little awkward. That finally broke through the fog in Akane's mind.
"Ah, y-yes. T-thank you," she stammered, bowing slightly.
"No problem," he replied, brushing a strand of hair behind his ear. “I saw you heading into that alley, and… well, I noticed those punks going in earlier, so I followed. Don’t worry, I’m not some weird stalker or anything.” He scratched the back of his head, offering a sheepish grin.
Akane blinked. He was talkative… almost casually so. But it was clear he was trying to reassure her, to make her feel safe.
She smiled, small but sincere. "I-it's okay. I mean… if you hadn’t followed me, I—I don’t know what could’ve happened.”
"You should be more careful," he said, his tone softening.
“I will,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.
He gave her a nod and turned to leave. “Well, I won’t keep you any longer.”
Akane, acting on instinct, reached out. But instead of catching his hand, her fingers accidentally grabbed a handful of his skirts.
He paused, glancing back. Akane gasped and immediately let go, flustered.
“Ah—I-I’m sorry! I was going to grab your hand! I didn’t mean to touch… I mean…” Her face turned scarlet. “I just wanted to… um… ask if it’s okay if I treat you. As a thank-you. For saving me.”
He tilted his head slightly, expression unreadable. "Are you sure you want to be seen with me?"
There was something behind his voice, then a shadow. Not quite sadness, but something close. A faint trace of self-doubt buried under his polite tone.
"Yes!" she said, more loudly than she meant to. Then softer, “You’re my benefactor… and… I was heading to the convenience store anyway.”
“I see,” he said, and this time, his smile reached his eyes. "I'm going there too."
“H-huh?” Akane stumbled over her words, her heart doing a little somersault at the sight of that gentle smile. “S-so… l-let's go! I-I can treat you! And um… we should get some bandages for your hands,” she said, gesturing to the red scrapes and cuts along his knuckles.
He glanced at them as if seeing them for the first time. “This? It’s nothing.”
“N-no, we need to treat it. You got hurt because of me.”
He didn’t argue again.
At the convenience store, Akane grabbed a small ointment tube and a melon pan, the very one she’d been craving earlier. She turned to him with a smile. "You can choose anything you want."
He looked at the shelf of bread thoughtfully, then reached out and grabbed the exact same melon pan.
“What about this one?” he asked.
Akane stared at the pastry in his hand, surprised. Her smile widened, her heart fluttering unexpectedly. “That’s a good choice. I really like that one.”
They moved through the store together in a kind of quiet synchronicity. As they passed the refrigerated section, he paused and picked up three cups of pudding, holding them all in his arms.
“You can put them in the basket,” Akane offered.
“It’s okay. I’m going to pay for these.”
“No, really, it’s fine. You saved me. "This is the least I can do,” she insisted. Then, in a quieter voice, she added, “Besides… we might not see each other again.”
That last line hung in the air.
He looked at her thoughtfully, then broke into a teasing grin. “Then… what if I grabbed everything in the sweets section?”
Akane’s eyes widened. “H-huh?! Wait, no, that’s—!”
“Ha ha ha!” He laughed, the sound bright and genuine. “I’m kidding." I’ll just stick to these three.”
Akane blushed again, unable to stop her cheeks from burning. She turned her face away, fanning herself with her hand.
She dabbed the ointment gently on his knuckles, careful not to press too hard. His skin was bruised and scraped, red and raw from the punches he'd thrown. As she worked, her mind played the scene again and again those fists flying, the thugs falling one by one. No hesitation. No fear.
But now, as she held his hand in her own, she felt the contrast. His hands were large almost twice the size of hers strong and calloused… but warm. Not cold like a weapon. Not rough like she expected.
A man's hand. She’d never held anyone’s hand like this before.
Somewhere between the ointment and the gauze, her thoughts had wandered, and she hadn’t noticed she’d been holding onto him for too long. When she looked up, their eyes met.
She startled and quickly pulled back. "Ah, uh… sorry."
"It's okay," he said, smiling again. That same gentle smile that somehow made her heart flutter and ache at the same time.
Akane watched as he flexed his fingers slightly, then reached over to pick up a can of soda. He popped it open with one hand, the fizzy sound breaking the awkward silence between them.
"Here," he said, casually offering the can to her.
She blinked. "Eh? Oh—uh, t-thank you."
"Don't mention it."
Their fingers brushed briefly as she took it, and Akane could’ve sworn her face was already starting to heat up again. They sat side by side on the low wall outside the convenience store, their bags of snacks and bread beside them. The city moved on around them, but in their little pocket of quiet, the silence stretched thin.
They nibbled on their bread, neither quite sure what to say. Akane found herself sneaking glances at him at his long lashes, the way his hair fell slightly over his cheek, the quiet way he ate.
How could someone look so soft yet fight like that? And… why did someone like him wear a girl’s clothes?
She looked down at her melon pan, then back up at him. Before she realized, they haven't exchanged names yet.
- Writer
