Kacchan We Were Five Novels & Stories

Marcella stated. I smirked. “As decided as you are, let me now give you your respective roles in this team.” The Major raised his hand. “Wait, we don’t have a name yet!” I rolled my eyes. “Who cares about that?” “But I have a team name in mind,” he insisted. “Okay,” I sighed; “what is it?” “DetecFIVE!” He smiled. “You know? From the word ‘detective’ but change the T into F to make it the number five…”

They chanted prayers over and over, as though they had already decided I was the source of the family's bad luck. Humiliation crashed over me like a tidal wave, leaving my nose stinging and my eyes burning. Even so, I refused to cry. I gritted my teeth and stayed silent, knowing that no one there felt sorry for me. If I shed a single tear, I would only make myself the punchline of another joke. By the time it was over, I had gone completely numb. There was a heavy ache in my lower abdomen, a tearing pain that grew worse with every passing second.

When he reached for the door handle, he suddenly turned around to face me. "Juniper, I'm willing to give up everything. I’ll give up on my identity and everything I have achieved so far, everything I have. I will become anonymous and be with you until the end of time. We can watch the sun rise and set, we will plant flowers, raise chickens, and cook our meals together. Will you do that with me?" He looked at me while shivering nervously. Once, I was the one who had asked for all those things. This time, I was the one refusing the demands.

A happy birthday song had just been sung in the wooden dining room at five o'clock in the afternoon. "Make a wish," Dorothy reminded her, as the little girl almost blew out the flame on the number five candle in the center of the tart. Her clear eyelids were closed, and her hands clasped together in front of her chest. A smile appeared on her beautiful face. After finishing saying her prayers silently, the candles were blown out, leaving smoke that seemed to curl from the burning wicks.

“We were together for five years! You loved me!” “Five years?” Evangeline raised an eyebrow, looking at me like I was insane. “Mr. Corvo, I think you’re mistaken.” “I’m not mistaken!” I begged, all my pride and dignity gone. “Evangeline, look at me! Do you really remember nothing?” “All I remember,” she said, her voice terrifyingly calm, “is that you are the mafia Don of Chicago. Nothing more.” I felt my heart being ripped out of my chest, bleeding and raw.

How was she supposed to explain to the company that she had been cowering indoors as the thugs of West LA started their riot? They called the cops but it took them a while. In fact, Becky had risked her life by coming out because the cops never arrived till she left. She'd never experienced such drama before that it looked like some Mafia gang movie. Her roommate, Mel, and friend of barely a week, hadn't returned since Saturday when she went on a love trip to Paris with her boyfriend.

But more than she’d told anyone since arriving. By the time the presentation day came, their work spanned a full ten-foot board—ten unique panels, each capturing a different amendment in layered color, bold strokes, and unexpected textures. Their classmates gawked. Even Mr. Kessler blinked twice. They stood together at the front of the room, explaining each panel’s meaning, trading off with practiced ease. When it was over, the class actually clapped. As Layla sat down, heart still racing from the attention, Jayden leaned close. “We killed it.”

she continued gently, "it might be easier if you try to see this as an opportunity rather than a punishment." I sighed softly. We spoke for a while after that. She tried to calm me, offering small reassurances until the heaviness in my chest eased slightly. Still, everything felt unreal. Five months. Five strangers. And their father, who was known to be insanely rich and extremely strict. Before going to sleep, I found myself thinking about the countless magazine covers I had seen over the years. King in a sharp suit at some gala. Kyle performing on stage with a guitar. Keith smiling at a movie premiere.

Everything had been cleaned so thoroughly that there wasn't a trace left of a child ever having lived here. My mind was on the edge of collapse. My nerves screamed, every sensation raw and disorienting. Lately, Chester had been busy and was always in the study late into the night. Our conversations had grown shorter and fewer. Even his attitude toward me had subtly changed. I knew it had to do with my "condition". He didn't want me disturbing him, so he kept me away from the study as much as possible. I respected that until… Meow… A soft, almost plaintive meow cut through the silence. It was Pudding, our five-year-old cat, the same age as Dorothy. We had gotten it the year she was born, and