I met her gaze without flinching. "I get Haruna to stop lying to herself," I said simply. "I get her to finally see me the way I see her."
Yukoâs eyes burned with fury. "Youâre a selfish bastard," she hissed, her voice shaking. "Using me like this. Using Harunaâs feelings like theyâre some kind of game."
"Iâm using the truth," I said, my voice steady. "Haruna likes me. Sheâs been hiding it, sacrificing her own happiness because she thinks Hannah deserves me more." I stepped even closer, my voice dropping to a whisper.
"But if she sees me with youâif she thinks you took me from Hannahâshe wonât be able to stay silent. Sheâll fight for what she wants. And thatâs the only way sheâll ever be honest with herself."
Yukoâs breath came in sharp, uneven gasps. She wanted to refuse. She wanted to scream, to hit me, to call me every name she could think of. But she also knew I was right. Haruna would react. Haruna would finally stop hiding.
And that was all that mattered.
Yukoâs voice was a low, dangerous growl. "Fine," she spat, her eyes burning with resolve. "But if you hurt her, Jack... if this backfires... I will make you regret it."
I smiledâslow, deliberate. "Iâd expect nothing less."
She glared at me, her voice trembling with barely contained rage. "And if she never forgives me for this?"
"Then youâll know you did the right thing," I said softly. "Because sometimes, the people we love need to be pushed before theyâll fight for themselves."
Yukoâs expression twisted, her voice barely a whisper. "I hate you."
I chuckled, my voice low. "I know."
And with that, the plan was set in motion.
Yuko looked at me, her jaw set, but there was something else in her eyesâsomething vulnerable. "But I have a condition," she said, her voice firm despite the slight tremor in it.
I raised an eyebrow. "What?"
Yukoâs gaze flickered away, her cheeks flushing slightly as she forced the words out. "You cannot touch me," she said, her voice tight with embarrassment. "I hate men."
A pang of something sharp and distressing twisted in my chest. I looked at her, really looked at herâthe way her shoulders tensed, the way her fingers twitched at her sides, the way her breath hitched like she was bracing for something terrible. The weight of what had been done to her, what sheâd endured, hung in the air between us.
Yuko saw the look in my eyes and immediately bristled, her voice sharp with warning. "Donât look at me like that," she snapped, her fingers twitching like she was considering following through on her threat. "Iâll poke your eyes out."
I held her gaze, my voice gentle but firm. "Donât worry," I said, my tone leaving no room for argument. "I wonât touch you without your consent."
The air between us was thick with tension, Yukoâs shoulders only relaxing a fraction though her entire body remained coiled like a spring ready to snap. Her expression was still guarded, her dark eyes flicking between me and the rooftop door as if expecting an ambush.
When she finally spoke, her voice was barely above a whisper, but it carried the sharp edge of a blade. "Good." The word tasted bitter on her lips, like a curse she couldnât take back.
She turned to me, her voice tight with restrained fury. "So... what now? We just stand here and wait for Hannah and Haruna to walk into this mess?" Her fingers twitched at her sides, betraying the storm of emotions beneath her carefully controlled exterior. "You havenât even told me what Iâm supposed to do when she gets here!"
I pulled out my phone with deliberate slowness, my thumb hovering over the screen. "Patience, Yuko," I murmured, already typing out the message.
"First, we set the stage." The phone chimed softly as I hit send. "There. Done." I slipped it back into my pocket, my eyes never leaving hers. "I just told Hannah to come up here. Sneakily. Without Haruna noticing."
Yukoâs breath hitched, her entire body going rigid. "You didnât evenâ!" She cut herself off with a sharp inhale, her voice dropping to a venomous whisper.
"You didnât ask if I was ready for this!" Her hands clenched into fists, her short nails biting into her palms hard enough to draw blood. "What if I canâtâ" She stopped again, swallowing hard. "What if I canât do this?"
I stepped closer, my voice low and steady. "You will." There was no room for doubt in my tone. "Because Haruna needs this. And deep down, you know it."
Before she could argue further, the rooftop door creaked open. Yuko stiffened like a deer sensing a predator, her muscles locking up as Hannahâs cautious footsteps echoed across the concrete.
The younger girl emerged, her sharp eyes immediately darting between us, her expression a mix of confusion and wariness. "Jack? You texted me to come up here?" Her gaze flicked to Yuko, who had turned slightly away, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. "Sister Yuko... whatâs going on?"
I moved toward Hannah with measured steps, putting deliberate distance between Yuko and our conversation. The assassin girl stood frozen, her back ramrod straight, her fingers digging into her own arms hard enough to leave marks.
Even from here, I could see the tension in her shoulders, the way her breath came in short, controlled bursts. For all her deadly skills, she looked utterly out of place in this emotional minefield.
Hannahâs eyes followed me, her voice dropping to a concerned whisper as I stopped just out of Yukoâs hearing range. "Jack, whatâs happening? Why does Sister Yuko look like she wants to murder someone?" She glanced back at Yuko, her brow furrowing. "And why are we being so secretive?"
I kept my voice barely above a murmur, my words precise and deliberate. "Because what Iâm about to tell you canât reach Yukoâs ears. Not yet." I paused, letting the weight of my words sink in. "Thereâs something you need to know about Haruna."
Hannahâs eyes widened slightly, her posture tensing. "What about her?"
I exhaled slowly, my voice dropping into something darker, something that vibrated with the weight of what I was about to say. "She rejected my proposal." The words landed between us like a bladeâsharp, sudden, drawing blood. "To be my girlfriend."
Hannahâs breath fractured. Her hand flew to her mouth, fingers pressing hard against her lips as if she could physically hold back the gasp that escaped her. "Whatâ? Whenâ?" Her eyes searched mine, wild and disbelieving. "Why didnât youâ?"
"Because she thinks you like me," I cut in, my voice tight, leashed frustration bleeding through every syllable. The admission tasted bitter, like something torn from me.