Out of the corner of her eye, Reina caught sight of Yuuki. He pressed himself against the wall, carefully tiptoeing his way toward her.
Knowing he was up to something, Reina didn’t expose him. Instead, she lowered her head and quietly waited.
Sure enough, a firm body, a pair of strong arms, approached from behind—pressing against her, holding her, wrapping her in a tight embrace.
Yuuki rested his chin on her shoulder, his nose brushing against her cheek as he took in the soft fragrance of her skin.
Reina turned her head. Her lips, like sakura mochi—soft, warm, and sweet.
After a light kiss, the two held each other in silence for a while, watching the blue flames flicker under the simmering pot on the stove.
“If...” Yuuki hesitated.
“Hm?” Reina turned down the heat and responded softly.
“If everything rewound... if you kept your memories but went back to a time before I ever stepped into that hospital... but in that timeline, I might not necessarily choose you—would you still consider the memories of our future together a good thing?”
“Like a GALGAME?”
“You actually know about that?”
“Nao plays them all the time. She always renames the protagonist after you and only goes for the big-sister type with, well... big chests. If she accidentally takes the wrong route, she’ll be depressed for days.”
There was a subtle implication in her words, but Yuuki pretended not to notice.
“Just like in a GALGAME, do you think memories of a ‘wrong’ route are good or bad? Would you want to keep them?”
Reina didn’t answer immediately. She opened the lid of the simmering pot, scooped a bit of broth into a small dish, and lowered her head. Her lips, still moist from their earlier kiss, lightly touched the edge of the white dish as she tasted the soup.
Raising her head, she gave her verdict. “I’d want them.”
“Why?”
“Memories are just memories. If I can have them, of course, it’s a good thing. It’d be like watching a movie about the future.”
“It’s not just memories,” Yuuki corrected her. “There are also the emotions that come with them.” Dreamlike visions of the future wouldn’t just be images—they’d carry the feelings of those moments too.
“Emotions, huh? Emotions shape a person. If I had those emotions, my perspective on things would probably change too.”
Reina placed the lid back on the pot, picked up a soup bowl, and rinsed it in the sink, preparing to serve dinner.
“In a way, it would alter your personality.”
Yuuki thought of Nao, of Yuko—the socially anxious shut-in who had learned to face the world, the cynical doll-like girl who had become more proactive.
“Rather than ‘alter,’ I think ‘improve’ is more fitting,” Reina corrected him. “And it’s not a ‘wrong’ route—it’s a happiness that simply hadn’t arrived yet.”
She set the bowl down and took hold of his hands, which were still wrapped around her waist. Her hands, damp with water droplets, were cool to the touch, dissipating the heat of his palms.
“In the hospital, I often felt like I was just another part of the room—the white bedsheets, the blue hospital gown, the plastic flooring, the air tinged with the scent of disinfectant. We were all the same.”
“Before I became an adult, my entire world was that sterile hospital room. My life consisted of white sheets, blue gowns, soft floors, and pungent air. I was no different from them—I was merely another piece of that space, an extension of it.”
“I had feet, but I couldn’t step beyond the hospital walls. I had hands, but all I could embrace was my pillow. My lips were parched, but all I could drink was plain water. My body was cold, but all I could wrap around me was a blanket devoid of color.”
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“I was me, but the proof of my existence couldn’t be found in that room. As a child, I struggled with that realization for a long time. Then, eventually, I abandoned a part of myself. I accepted that I was just another object in the hospital. My pillow became my dearest friend, my blanket, my gentle mother, and the window, the mischievous girl next door. I was a mannequin dressed in hospital gowns, a food container, a surveillance camera monitoring the ward.”
Her words came to a halt. Yuuki tightened his arms around her, holding her even closer.
“In those days, I couldn’t feel happiness. I had no joy. I was a caged bird—a prisoner of my own making.” Reina turned her head and smiled at him. “Back then, I was quite the troubled girl.”
“And yet, that troubled girl was the one who stole my heart.” Yuuki pressed his cheek against hers.
“I think,” Reina turned her face away from his, continuing, “if I could have those memories and feelings, even if you didn’t choose me, I would still have the happiness and joy within those memories. The truly pitiable thing isn’t losing, but never having had it in the first place.”
“Losing causes pain,” Yuuki countered softly.
“Pain is also proof—proof of emotion, proof of my existence, proof that I’m not just a decoration called ‘the patient in the hospital room,’ proof that I am me.”
At some point, Reina’s body relaxed. She leaned against Yuuki, using his strength to support herself.
Her head dropped again, and her scattered hair fell to the side of her face, the tips of her locks swaying near her waist.
Suddenly, a single tear dropped from the end of her hair, splashing onto the blue tiles below. Yuuki quickly pushed her hair aside, gazing at her cheek.
She was crying.
Surprised, Yuuki wondered if his harsh question had triggered her tears. He wanted to apologize, but her next words left him both amused and speechless.
“Did you have an affair with Nao?” Reina looked at him with tear-filled eyes.
She thought his question was an inquiry after an affair.
“No,” Yuuki stared back into her eyes.
“Then it was Yuko?”
“No.”
“Kazumi?”
“No.”
“Saki?”
“Now that’s going too far!” Yuuki pinched her cheek, “You only ever think of yourself and your props, where would I have the energy for an affair?”
“Are you sure you didn’t cheat with anyone?”
“I only had affairs with those three.” Yuuki pointed to her soft lips, her tender palms, and her flexible legs.
Reina’s tears stopped, a flush appearing on her cheeks. Her face, still holding onto a hint of the rainy look, now glowed with the warmth of the evening light.
“If it wasn’t an affair, then why ask that?” She gently moved Yuuki’s hand away, letting her hair fall back to cover her face.
“Just asking about the possibility,” Yuuki couldn’t quite bring himself to explain fully.
“I thought you were going to leave me for another woman.”
“Don’t say such foolish things. In this lifetime, I belong only to you.”
“I’d rather you quietly have an affair with them, no, you can do it openly, but you can’t leave me.”
“I won’t.”
“If I didn’t have you, my body would have died of heart disease by the time I reached adulthood. My heart would have turned into another decoration in the hospital room much earlier. You gave me everything. If you have any thoughts, you can be more bold about it.”
“I’ve already said, in this lifetime, I won’t have any other thoughts.”
Yuuki took her hands in his, the two of them nestled together in the kitchen, savoring the warmth of their shared happiness.
“By the way,” Yuuki pointed to the pot on the stove, “isn’t this ready yet?”
“Ah!” Reina exclaimed, “I forgot!”
“Such a scatterbrain.”
“Ugh! Don’t call me a ghost!”
[End of Free Simulation]