Prologue

──The night of September 7th, Ichijou Ai’s perspective──

Sunday draws to a close.

Alone in my quiet room, I let out a sigh after parting from Senpai. The joy of our date still lingers, but its end leaves a hollow ache in its wake. Loneliness creeps in, reminding me how fragile I am without the warmth of others.

I hate being alone. I long for a family, for the days filled with happiness I can never reclaim. That’s why Kitchen Aono means so much to me—its warmth, its laughter, the sense of belonging. I want to stay with everyone there forever. But those moments are fleeting, like Cinderella’s dance at the ball. When the clock strikes, the magic fades, and I’m left facing reality once more.

My sigh isn’t just for the loneliness. It’s for what happened earlier today. I acted boldly, impulsively, and now a faint regret tugs at me as I sink into the sofa, replaying the day’s events. I’m not truly regretting it, am I? I shake my head, trying to dismiss the thought.

Perhaps it’s the exhaustion from walking so much, or maybe it’s the unfamiliar thrill of stepping out of my comfort zone, but drowsiness begins to pull at me. I clutch my stuffed animal tightly, its softness a faint echo of being close to Senpai, as if our date hasn’t fully ended. Slowly, I slip into the world of dreams.

It’s a dream I know too well—a recurring vision I recognized the moment it began. The day I lost my mother.

My parents’ marriage was what people call a political arrangement. My father hailed from a rising conglomerate, my mother from a prestigious, time-honored family. Their union was strategic, a mutually beneficial alliance. For my father’s family, it meant inheriting the prestige and connections of a traditional lineage. For my mother’s clan, my father’s talent promised revival. In most cases, such a marriage might breed a cold, distant couple, bound only by obligation. If that had been their story, I might never have found myself on that rooftop.

But they were different. Childhood friends, they carried a bond deeper than duty. From the way my mother spoke of him, I believe they were each other’s first love. Despite the calculated nature of their marriage, their happiness was genuine. I could see it in my mother’s face whenever she mentioned my father—her eyes sparkled, her smile bloomed like a girl lost in love. Now that I’ve tasted love myself, I recognize that same expression in the mirror.

I was raised in their warmth, cherished and never left wanting. Those days remain etched in my heart, glowing memories I can never deny. My parents were busy, yet I never felt neglected. Their love was a constant, unwavering presence.

From elementary school, I attended a prestigious private academy in Tokyo. The harder I worked—in studies, in sports—the more they praised me. My father, often consumed by work, was rarely home, but he was kind, carving out time for family whenever possible. He never missed school events, from parent observation days to sports festivals.

I pull the family album from its place on the bookshelf. Every photo captures a smiling me, flanked by my parents’ equally radiant faces. Each image is a treasure, a snapshot of joy I can never recreate.

But two years ago, everything shattered. That day, I lost it all. My mother and I were caught in an accident.

We were supposed to go on a family trip, the three of us together. But at the last moment, my father was called away for work. The news rattled me, and in my distraction, I delayed our preparations. That small hesitation shifted our departure just enough.

That was my mistake. If I’d been quicker, if I’d focused less on my disappointment and more on the moment, perhaps everything would be different.

That day, unusually, my mother drove. Since it was a family outing, we hadn’t hired a driver. We’d been so excited for this trip, planning it for weeks. My father promised to finish his work and join us soon. There was no reason to be upset. So why did I let it weigh on me?

“Ai, are you feeling better?” my mother asked, her tone light and teasing.

“I’m fine,” I replied. “I was a bit shocked, but I’m okay now.”

“You know your father. He’ll wrap up his work quickly and make it up to us.”

“Yeah, you’re right.”

I knew his job was demanding, that sudden changes were part of his world. I knew, too, that his skill meant he’d handle it swiftly. It was just a brief separation, nothing more. Looking back, it seems so trivial now—a fleeting moment in a happy family’s story.

The mood in the car lightened, and we slipped into easy conversation. I never doubted that happiness would stretch on forever. And yet…

The car entered a tunnel. That’s when fate turned.

A deafening crash shattered the air, followed by a jarring impact that plunged everything into darkness. The screech of brakes, the crunch of metal, and the dull thud of something collapsing echoed through the tunnel’s confines.

When I regained consciousness, a wall loomed before me. Panic set in as I realized we’d been in an accident. My mother’s labored breathing reached my ears. Through the shattered window behind the driver’s seat, I saw the truth: the tunnel had collapsed, trapping us in a cage of rubble.

The driver’s seat was half-crushed, debris pinning my mother. Blood pooled from her lower body, where jagged fragments had pierced her. She was in agony.

“Mom, are you okay?” I screamed, unable to process the horror before me. Tears streamed down my face as I clutched her shoulder.

“Ai, are you hurt?” she asked, her voice strained but steady, as if her own pain didn’t matter.

“I’m fine, but Mom, you’re……”

“Good. That’s a relief.”

Her only concern was for me. In her eyes, I saw a flicker of resignation, but also a profound love, a relief that her daughter was unharmed. Later, when I could think clearly, I realized she knew her time was short.

“Mom…… Mom, Mom,” I repeated, my voice breaking, unable to form any other words.

She shook her head gently, her expression one of acceptance, as if she’d made peace with her fate. With her barely movable left hand, she stroked my hair. Her touch grew colder, and I trembled, terrified by the reality of her fading life.

“Ai, forget about me and escape. There might be a fire… Rescue will come soon… probably.”

“I can’t leave you and escape!” I sobbed. “I’ll wait for help with you!”

Her body grew colder still. I clung to her hand, desperate to keep her with me.

“Please. Please… be… happy…” she whispered, each word a struggle.

Her voice faltered, but she kept speaking, pouring out words I was too shocked to fully grasp. Her breathing weakened. Smoke began to curl through the tunnel, thick and acrid.

A fire had started. If I didn’t act, she… I had to get help. “I’ll go get help right away,” I said, forcing myself to move. Somehow, I stumbled out of the car.

My mother said nothing.

Outside, the tunnel was a vision of hell. A truck lay buried under rubble. A man and a woman emerged from a car behind ours.

“Please help! My mom’s in that car… The driver’s seat is pinned under rubble, and she can’t move…”

The man glanced at our car and froze, his eyes wide. Looking back, I understand now: a massive piece of debris had impaled the driver’s seat. No human effort could have freed her. That’s why he shook his head.

The woman pulled me into her arms. “You need to escape now, or you’ll…”

“No, I’m staying! Let go!!” I screamed, thrashing against her grip.

No matter how I fought, they wouldn’t release me. My memories was a blur after that. The next thing I knew, I was in a hospital bed. My father, his face hollow, told me my mother was gone.

Then it hit me. Our car had veered slightly off course. My mother had slammed the brakes and turned the wheel, shielding my seat from the worst of the collapse. She’d given everything to save me.

If I hadn’t delayed our preparations…

If I hadn’t been in the car…

If I’d stayed there…

Maybe I could have changed fate. Maybe she’d still be here. Guilt, regret, and loss consumed me. All I could do was sob to my father, who’d rushed to my side. “Dad, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Because of me, Mom, Mom…”

He said nothing, his silence a weight I couldn’t bear.

I couldn’t even attend her funeral, confined to the hospital. I left everything to my father, who must have been grieving in his own way.

After that, my world unraveled. My father changed. The loss of my mother drove him to bury himself in work, and he rarely came home. The kind man I’d known grew distant, treating people like tools.

Then the harassment began. I’d always stood out, perhaps inviting jealousy. The media called me a “miraculous survivor,” thrusting me into the spotlight. That fame turned me into a target. Classmates smiled to my face but whispered behind my back, spreading rumors that I was a heartless demon who’d survived at my mother’s expense. At its worst, anonymous calls plagued my phone, voices mimicking my mother’s, crying, “It hurts, help me, why didn’t you save me?” I knew she’d never say such things, but each call carved deeper into my wounds.

I stood frozen, clutching the phone, over and over.

After graduating middle school, I moved to a new city where no one knew me. But my father, as if to escape me, didn’t follow. My isolation grew. The calls stopped, but I’d lost everything.

I should have died with her. She’d saved me at such a cost, yet I loathed myself for feeling this way, for betraying her sacrifice. If I’d stayed, maybe I wouldn’t have endured this torment. I wanted to see her again. Would my father forgive me if I joined her?

That despair led me to the rooftop. But there, I met him.

He was supposed to be as broken as I was, yet he became my light. He said, “Thank you for saving me.” But in truth, he saved me. He gave me a place to belong, rekindled the warmth of human connection, and showed me the joy of love.

How could I not fall for him? The nightmare that haunted me was rewritten by Senpai in the end.

※

My phone rang.

The sharp sound jolted me awake, tears brimming in my eyes. I clung to the stuffed animal I’d been holding in place of Senpai, its soft presence a quiet comfort. Normally, this dream—the same relentless nightmare—leaves my heart heavy with loneliness and guilt, whispering that death might be easier. But tonight…

Staring at the stuffed animal’s face, I recalled the impulsive kiss I planted on Senpai’s cheek earlier. Embarrassment warmed my cheeks, tinged with a faint guilt, but it was enough to pull me from the nightmare’s grip. Maybe, in some small way, he saved me from slipping back into that hell.

Thoughts of him eased the weight in my chest. My mother’s final words echoed, sharp and clear.

“Please. Please… be… happy…”

Yes, that’s what she said. I have to be happy. For so long, I didn’t see it, didn’t want to see it. But Senpai changed that. Thanks to him, the nightmare feels like it’s being rewritten, softened by Eiji-senpai’s presence. The pain won’t vanish, but I won’t let anyone twist my mother’s wish. Because of him, I see how foolish I was to nearly throw away the life she fought to save.

Thank you, Senpai.

Thank you, Mom.

You did well, Ai.

“I miss you…” I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper. “We just saw each other, but I already want to see you again. Is this happiness, Mom?”

My phone lay beside me, its screen glowing with notifications. Messages from Senpai had been trickling in over the past hour. Heart racing, I grabbed it and dialed his number without hesitation.

The call connected, and my heart felt warmer than it had in ages.

※

I sent a thank-you message for the date earlier, but Ichijou-san hasn’t replied. Maybe she’s in the bath or asleep.

If she doesn’t respond, I figured I’d just head to bed, but the afterglow of that moment clings to me, keeping sleep at bay. My mind replays her kiss, and my pulse quickens.

“That kiss… just thinking about it makes my heart race.” I muttered, hoping saying it aloud might settle my nerves. Instead, it only fanned the flames. I never saw it coming—not from Ichijou-san, the girl others see as an untouchable beauty, effortlessly brushing off confessions. To the world, she’s distant, almost ethereal, but our meeting was anything but ordinary. I’ve never felt a wall between us.

When she’s with me, her smile is bright and unguarded. She acted for my sake, heedless of the risk to herself. Why does she care so much for someone like me, betrayed by my best friend and childhood friend, Miyuki?

My phone rang, snapping me out of my thoughts. A reply at last! I’d been restless, my messages left unread. I knew she might be asleep, but the silence gnawed at me. Eagerly, I checked the screen—and froze. It wasn’t a message but a call from Ichijou-san. A call, for high schoolers, is a bolder leap than a text. I took a deep breath and tapped to answer.

“Ah, it’s Ichijou,” her voice came through, soft but clear. “Senpai, sorry for calling so late. Do you have time?”

“Yeah, I’m good.”

“Sorry. I dozed off and didn’t notice until now. I wanted to apologize.”

“No, it wasn’t a big deal. Don’t worry.”

A white lie. The unread messages had me more anxious than I’d admit.

“Also, I wanted to say it directly,” she continued. “I really enjoyed today’s date. Oh, and… sorry for suddenly doing something weird. Were you surprised?”

The way she lingered on “date” and sidestepped mentioning the kiss was so quintessentially her.

“I enjoyed the date too,” I replied. “But yeah, that surprised me.”

“Right? I don’t even know why I did it. But, Senpai?”

“Hm?”

“It was my first time kissing someone other than family, you know.”

Her words, so direct, nearly stopped my heart. The word “kiss” sent my pulse into overdrive. Phone calls aren’t our usual, and her voice felt closer, like I could hear the soft rhythm of her breath.

“Same for me.”

When I said that, she sounded excited and happy on the other end. I’d been betrayed by Miyuki before anything could happen, leaving me wary of trust. I never imagined I’d grow this close to a girl I barely knew, and so quickly. It feels like a miracle, a chain of coincidences—fate, maybe, though the word feels too simple for what this is. All I know is I’m happy.

“Oh, so it was the first time for both of us, huh?” she said, her tone playful, almost childlike, a side of her I rarely see. To others, she’s poised, unapproachable, but with me, she’s unguarded.

“Yeah.”

Her teasing sparked a playful defiance in me, and I answered with a confidence that drew a sweet giggle from her, so close it felt like she was beside me.

“Good,” she said softly. “That makes it a memory we’ll both remember forever, right?”

A memory for life. The weight of her words settled over me. If we hadn’t met on that rooftop, I might not be here. The fact that we’re both still moving forward feels like a miracle. Building something together atop that fragile chance—how could I not be happy? Her words, promising she’ll never forget me, feel like an honor coming from her.

“You’re amazing, Senpai,” she said, her voice earnest. “No matter how tough things get, you keep moving forward.”

The sudden praise caught me off guard, warmth creeping into my cheeks. But it’s not just me. Without her, I might have died—or at least remained trapped in that hell of bullying, a pain worse than death. Having lived through it, I understand why some choose to escape through death.

“That’s because you were there,” I said quietly. “So…”

“Even so,” she interrupted. “I was just the trigger. You chose to move forward. You talked to your family, asked for help. Others stepped in because of you. I respect you for doing what I couldn’t.”

Her words carried a shadow of that day—the day she nearly ended it all. She must have carried her pain alone, bottling it up until it broke her. I’d sensed her distance from her family, the vague way she spoke of her past. She’s not ready to share, still weighed by regret for not reaching out. If I’d been there then, could I have changed her path? It’s a futile thought, but it lingers. For now, all I can do is be here, trusting her to open up when she’s ready.

“I think I was always wary of others until I met you,” she said. “But you were different. You saved me without caring for yourself. That’s why you’re special to me.”

Her words felt like a confession, raw and unguarded. We haven’t known each other long, but our bond runs deep, forged in shared pain, like comrades who’ve faced the same war. It’s more than love—it’s a mutual lifeline.

“Thank you,” I said, my voice soft.

“I’m the one who should say thank you,” she replied. “Thank you for finding me that day.”

We spoke slowly, as if to affirm how much we mean to each other, our words weaving a quiet promise to keep moving forward together.

※

──Ichijou Ai’s perspective──

I sink into the sofa after the call, the conversation lingering in my mind. Over an hour slipped by unnoticed, each moment woven with a sweetness that filled the space between us. The oppressive weight of that recurring nightmare has faded, dissolved by his voice.

Now, this room holds only the fragile, hopeful sparks of a girl in love.

“Why is it so hard to just say ‘I love you’?” I murmur, my voice soft against the quiet.

No one answers. But I imagine my mother, if she were still here, would smile warmly, her eyes bright with joy for me.