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The room felt wrong.

Not just heavy. Not just suffocating.

Wrong.

Saya gripped her mom's hand like a lifeline, like if she let go—if she loosened her fingers even a little—her oka-san would slip away completely.

Her body was burning up, breath shallow, skin clammy.

But she was still alive.

Just barely.

Saya's throat locked up. Her vision blurred. Her chest felt too tight, too small, too useless.

This wasn't exhaustion.

Wasn't stress.

Wasn't some mysterious illness.

It was poison.

Orochimaru-sama had figured it out in minutes.

A slow-acting toxin, fed to her over years, disguised as medicine. Something meant to weaken, not kill immediately—just keep her sick, keep her bedridden, keep her under control.

Saya's stomach curled in on itself.

Her father—

No.

She didn't want to believe it.

But who else?

Who the hell else had access? Had power? Had control over hospitals, doctors, every single prescription?

Her nails dug into her palms.

She needed answers.

And there was only one person in this room who could give them.

The chair creaked. The ropes strained.

Souichiro Takagi sat tied down, watching her. Bored. Unmoved. Like this was a waste of his time.

Saya wiped her face against her sleeve, sucked in a sharp breath, then snapped her head up—eyes burning, voice raw.

"Why?"

The word barely made it past her lips.

It wasn't just rage. It was fear.

The fear of hearing the truth.

"Why the hell did you do this?"

The air shifted.

Shizuka-sensei and Saeko stood nearby, tense, unmoving, watching. That kind of awkward silence when you knew you weren't supposed to be here but also kinda needed to see how this played out.

Souichiro?

Didn't even blink.

Didn't pretend to look guilty.

Didn't even care.

He just scoffed, like she'd asked him why the sky was blue.

"Shut up and untie me," he said, flatly.

The laugh that left Saya's mouth wasn't even a real laugh.

Short. Sharp. Bitter as hell.

"Oh, hai hai, otō-san. Let me just untie you real quick so you can keep being a massive piece of shit."

Souichiro barely reacted.

"Watch your mouth."

"Oh, watch my mouth?" Saya's voice spiked, hands shaking, nails digging into her palms.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, otō-san! Did I hurt your feelings?! Was poisoning oka-san for years not already a big enough dick move?!"

"You—"

"Nope." Saya cut him off, voice rising.

"Tell me why! If you hated her so much, you could've just—just killed her outright!

So why this?! Why?!"

Silence.

He didn't flinch.

Didn't defend himself.

Didn't even deny it.

Just sat there, watching her like she was some brat throwing a tantrum.

The tension thickened, turned suffocating.

Shizuka-sensei shifted awkwardly.

Saeko tapped a single finger against her katana's hilt, unreadable.

Saya's breath came sharp, uneven.

Her mom was still breathing—but weakly. If they didn't find out what poison was used, what antidote could counter it—

She'd die anyway.

Saya's chest clenched.

Her eyes burned.

Her hands shook.

"Say something!"

Souichiro exhaled through his nose.

Then, with all the smug arrogance of a man who still thought he had power, he muttered—

"Release me."

The laugh that left Saya's lips this time was quieter.

Not hysterical.

Not loud.

Just dry. Hollow. Dead.

The sound hadn't even faded when Saeko moved.

One step.

Then another.

Her grip on the katana tightened.

Shizuka-sensei tensed. "Saeko-chan—"

Too late.

Souichiro scoffed, watching her approach. Then, smirking, he muttered,

"I know you."

Saeko didn't react.

"You're that failure of Master Busujima," he continued, smirk widening. "I know him. A real swordsman. Must be disappointing for him to have a daughter instead of a true heir."

Saya stiffened.

Shizuka bit her lip.

Saeko?

Didn't blink.

Didn't frown.

She just tilted her head slightly, lips curling into something—

Unreadable.

Then—

She stabbed him.

"AHHHHHH—!!"

Souichiro's scream ripped through the room, raw and ugly.

Blood spilled from his leg, thick and dark, pooling beneath the chair.

His breath came ragged, gasping, pain twisting his face. His jaw locked, teeth grinding together—

But he still tried.

Tried to act tough.

Tried to throw out an insult.

"You bi—"

Twist.

The katana shifted inside the wound, slicing deeper.

Souichiro jerked, veins in his neck straining.

Saeko?

Didn't even blink.

"Start speaking."

Shizuka pressed a hand to her mouth, eyes flicking between them.

Souichiro sucked in a breath, his glare burning into Saeko.

"You think—" His breath shuddered. "You think I'm scared of you?"

Saeko arched a brow. Then, without breaking eye contact—

She pushed the blade in deeper.

Souichiro's body seized, fists clenching against the restraints.

Saeko's voice was calm. Almost bored.

"Maybe not." She tilted her head slightly. "But you are in pain."

Saya stepped closer, voice shaking.

If he didn't talk—if he let Yuriko die without telling them how to stop it—

She'd never forgive herself.

"Tell me, otō-san."

Her voice was low, trembling, but steady.

"What's the antidote?"

Souichiro's head snapped toward her, sweat dripping down his temple.

His jaw twitched. Then—after a moment—

He laughed.

Low.

Bitter.

"Why?"

His bloodstained grin stretched.

"Because she was in my way."

Saya didn't hesitate.

She reached out, grabbed Saeko's wrist—

And twisted the blade deeper herself.