Chapter 36: A Story That Wasn’t in the Novel (2)

Aya’s composure crumbled. The unflappable Aya was shaken, her face a mixture of disbelief and… something akin to pain.

“An accident…?” Her voice trembled, her blue eyes wavering.

Reina-senpai hesitated for a moment, then closed her eyes. “After that, I stopped performing at the academy.” Her voice was calm, but a chill ran down my spine.

“…” Aya began to tremble. I gently took her hand, afraid that if I didn’t, she might break.

Tears streamed down Aya’s face as she listened to her sister’s story. “…It wasn’t just a minor accident,” she said, her voice low and filled with emotion, unlike anything I’d heard from her before. “After that, you… gave up on everything.”

I instinctively looked at Aya, her shoulders shaking. Reina-senpai’s grip tightened on her teacup.

“…Yes,” she admitted quietly. “It was a serious accident.” She looked out the window, her voice carefully neutral, as if trying to conceal something.

“What are you hiding?” Aya asked, her gaze fixed on her sister.

Reina-senpai’s eyes flickered downwards, then she spoke. “…You’re right.” She admitted the truth. “Aya, you lost your memory of that day. It was too traumatic.”

“…”

This wasn’t in the novel. The truth, now revealed, sent shivers down my spine. But Reina-senpai, the one directly involved, recounted the events calmly, almost as if she were an observer, a detached narrator.

“That day, I was playing the piano on the outdoor stage. It was the final performance of the Spring Festival, the grand finale, a celebration of the unity between the academy and the community.” She began to unravel the story buried deep within her heart.

“After the performance, I walked backstage. And that’s when… I overheard them.” She paused, a fleeting smile touching her lips, then quickly fading. “I didn’t know, until then. I didn’t know our family was involved in severing the ties between the academy and the community.” She paused again, her fingers tracing the rim of her teacup.

“I overheard the conversation between the academy’s board members and the leaders of the Merchants’ Association. Their plan to completely exclude Shirasaki from the Spring Festival, to maintain the academy’s brand image, to make it more… ‘exclusive.’”

My breath hitched.

“And… I learned that… our family had initiated the plan.” She took a sip of her tea and continued. “I… couldn’t say anything.” She closed her eyes, as if reliving the memory.

“And then… as their discussion ended, I was about to leave the stage, but… I was so distracted, I missed a step.” She placed her teacup on the table, her fingers tracing the surface.

“I fell down the stairs.”

“…!” I could feel Aya tense beside me, our hands still clasped together.

“I… hit my head hard.”

“…” We were speechless.

“When I woke up, I was in the hospital. I’d been unconscious for days, and it took a long time for me to recover.” Her voice remained calm, detached, as if she were recounting someone else’s story.

“But… they said it was a serious injury. I wasn’t the same. After countless hospital visits, I realized… I could no longer be the ‘perfect Yukikawa.’” She smiled faintly.

“After the accident, I withdrew from academy events and family affairs. I… left everything to Aya, the responsibilities, the role of heir…”

I gasped, the pieces finally clicking into place. Reina-senpai hadn’t always been “gentle.” She’d been strong, someone who’d carried the weight of expectations from her family and the academy.

But after the accident, she’d recognized her own limitations and willingly stepped down from the “perfect” position.

And Aya, due to the trauma of that day, had forgotten everything. Seeing someone so perfect become so frail… it must have been a devastating experience. I looked at Aya.

“I’m… so sorry, Aya,” I whispered.

Aya remained silent, listening to her sister’s story. Reina-senpai smiled gently at her younger sister. After a long silence, Aya finally spoke, her voice trembling.

“You never told me… when I asked why you weren’t trying to be a perfect Yukikawa… you could have told me…”

“I didn’t want you to worry. I was… grateful that you’d forgotten. I didn’t want to burden you with that memory.”

“Then why now…!”

“Because… you have someone you can trust now.”

Aya’s shoulders trembled. I instinctively tightened my grip on her hand, wanting to comfort her.

“Anyway, after that incident, the relationship between Takamari and Shirasaki completely deteriorated. The head of the Shirasaki Merchants’ Association had built the stage, so our family used that as an excuse to sever ties, as they’d planned all along,” Reina-senpai explained, sighing softly.

“And then…” she took another sip of her tea, her long eyelashes fluttering slightly.

After her story, a heavy silence settled over the room. I watched Aya, the cool air thick with unspoken emotions.

Aya’s blue eyes wavered. The unflappable Aya… was shaken.

“…” She didn’t say anything. She just stood up silently, pulling her hand away from mine.

“Aya?” Reina-senpai asked softly, but Aya didn’t respond. Her lips were pressed together in a thin line, as if she were trying to process everything she’d just heard.

“…I’m leaving,” she said, opening the door and walking out.

I instinctively stood up and watched her leave, her steps faster, more decisive than usual.

“Ah, me too…!” I hurried after her, following her down the long hallway towards the entrance.

‘Aya… please don’t do anything rash…’

Her gait seemed almost frantic, as if she were trying to escape something. This wasn’t just anger; it was the frantic energy of someone lost in confusion and pain.

‘…It’s understandable…’ She’d just learned a truth she’d never known, that her position as heir wasn’t a choice, but a consequence of a tragic accident. And that accident was the direct cause of the night market’s demise.

I hurried after her. “Aya, are you okay?”

And then…

“Ah…!”

I tripped, my foot catching on something. Aya had stopped abruptly, and I stumbled forward, unable to stop myself.

‘Oh no!’ I instinctively closed my eyes, reaching out to brace myself for the fall. But…

“…” The expected impact never came.

I landed in… something soft. I cautiously opened my eyes. And I saw…

…teary blue eyes staring back at me.

“…Rina.”

Too close. Way too close! My mind went blank.

Aya had caught me, and I was in her arms. And my hand…

‘P-Pudding…?!’ The word popped into my head. I instinctively pulled my hand away, my face burning.

“N-No! It’s not like that! This is… j-just…!” I stammered, waving my hands frantically.

Aya sighed, her expression weary. “Rina, be careful.” Her tone was gentle, despite the exhaustion in her voice. She was the one who needed comfort, not me…

“Aya… are you okay?” I asked softly.

Aya smiled faintly, but it was a sad, complex smile, reflecting the turmoil within her. “Yes. I’m okay, Rina. But… I need some time to think.”

And with that, she turned and walked away. I stood there, frozen, unable to stop her.

‘Aya…’

Knowing the Aya from the novel, I knew it was best to leave her alone. She needed time.

****

The rest of the day was a blur. I vaguely remembered saying goodbye to Reina-senpai and going home… The ending of that encounter had been too shocking…

“I get that I’m being thrust into the protagonist’s role…” I muttered, face palming. Of all the times for an accidental “skinship” moment… it had to be during such a serious situation. I’d replayed the scene countless times since returning home, mortified.

But I pushed the embarrassing memory aside. A LINE message from Aya popped up on my phone.

Aya: Rina.

Rina: Yes! What is it?

Aya: Thank you… for today.

Rina: Aya… are you really okay?

Aya: Of course. If it weren’t for you, I might have erased today’s memory completely.

Rina: Ah… (｡•́︿•̀｡) Aya…
Aya: Rina.

Rina: Yes?

Aya: I… might have relied on you a bit too much today.

“Uwaaaaaaaaack!” I yelled, rolling off my bed and onto the floor. And then… my mother yelled at me for making so much noise at night…