The Story Only She Knows

Seeing what Yukima Azuma had brought, Kurokawa Akane didn't show any particular reaction. She simply took it in silence.

It was her phone.

The same phone that had been taken from her at the police station… then confiscated by her mother, Mrs. Kurokawa. At some point, Yukima Azuma had visited the Kurokawa household and retrieved it. Now, he had personally returned it to her.

Once, this device had nearly pushed her to the brink of death. A gateway to a flood of judgment, mockery, and despair, all broadcast in endless scrolling lines of text.

But now—now she felt neither the disgust nor the fear she had expected.

Because it was brought by Yukima Azuma, she simply accepted it with quiet calm. She placed the phone in her bag, as though it were just any other item.

Still, she made one vow.

She would never open social media again.

Because if she did… if she relapsed into that digital abyss… she might not come back.

She might die.

And if she died, who would be there for Yukima Azuma?

Who would take care of that boy who had once stood in the storm, forced to confront the shadow of her death?

If she disappeared, he would spiral. That much she knew.

No, she couldn't allow that.

She wouldn't allow that.

Kurokawa Akane turned her gaze to the light novel in her hands. The second volume of the "Youth" series.

She had read the first volume. And she liked it.

In fact, it was one of the few things in recent memory she could genuinely say she enjoyed—one of the few things since the day she had stood on the railing of the bridge and almost let herself fall.

"Guardian," Yukima Azuma had said gently, pointing at the cover, "when you're done reading, could you write a review for me? My number and Line ID are saved in your phone—text me anytime."

Just like the book he had given to Kato Megumi, this was also a manuscript. Not yet published. Not yet touched by editors.

A story written just for her.

Yukima Azuma could still smell the faint scent of blood on her. Though her wrists bore no new wounds, her heart had not yet healed. But maybe—just maybe—reading the story meant for her would help.

Once, he had approached her as a writer conducting an experiment. Adolescence Syndrome: a supernatural disease rooted in the pain of youth. She had been his subject.

But now… now Yukima Azuma simply wanted to save her.

When he asked for a small gesture of affection before they parted—not out of desire, but to reassure her, to stabilize her—she didn't hesitate. She nodded, just like she always did.

They had dinner at a quiet family restaurant, then went their separate ways.

That night, Kurokawa Akane returned to the Kurokawa household. Her footsteps were light, but her heart was heavy with something unfamiliar: anticipation.

In her bedroom, she turned on the desk lamp. She placed the book gently on the table.

This desk had witnessed countless nights of her reading—not fiction, but scripts. Professional manuals. Character backstories.

Stories that belonged to other people.

Now, for the first time, she would read her own.

She opened the cover. Her hands trembled slightly.

The name "Kurokawa Akane" appeared on the page—and her breath caught.

Why had she ever entered the entertainment industry?

She had forgotten.

Or maybe she had deliberately erased it.

But here, within Yukima Azuma's story, she remembered.

It was never about fame. Not about recognition. Not about expectation.

It was love.

She had loved acting.

She had loved the feeling of transforming into someone else, of being illuminated by the spotlight, of her heartbeat syncing with the rhythm of the camera.

She had once dreamed of being brilliant.

That was the real reason she started.

And when she lost that reason, when she forgot it completely, every step forward became torture. Like walking barefoot across blades.

The story inside the book mirrored her own: a girl who pushed forward for the sake of passion—but eventually lost her way. She kept striving, but the more effort she poured in, the more fragile she became. Until finally, she broke.

And then, the hate came.

Online abuse. Rumors. Death wishes from strangers.

The fictional girl, like the real Akane, began to wish she were invisible.

And so… she started disappearing.

Not metaphorically—literally. In the supernatural logic of adolescence syndrome, she vanished from people's perception. First at school. Then the streets. Then, eventually, it was as if the entire world no longer recognized her presence.

It stretched from minutes… to hours… to whole days.

The girl realized she still existed, but out of sync with reality.

And when she could no longer take it…

She put on a bunny girl outfit and walked into the Tokyo library.

Desperate to be seen.

And there—she met her childhood friend again.

The story outside the book and inside the book merged for Akane. She had lived this. She was this.

Her hands trembled as she turned the pages. Her mind burned. Her heart ached. She felt the layers of numbness break, one paragraph at a time.

Yukima Azuma had written her life, down to the finest crack in her soul.

In the novel, the boy tried to save her.

When he learned that even sleep could cause him to forget her, he fought sleep with everything he had—willpower, caffeine, desperation. But it wasn't enough.

Eventually, the girl drugged his coffee.

He forgot her.

And when he did… he wandered to the bridge—their place.

On that vast, crowded street where she no longer existed, he suddenly remembered.

He screamed her name.

Meanwhile, the girl stood on the edge of the railing, ready to disappear forever.

In the final pages, he ran. Fast. Desperately. His hand reaching out.

Would he catch her?

No one knew.

Only one person knew.

Outside the book, the real Kurokawa Akane closed it slowly.

She was crying.

She didn't even realize when the tears began.

She wiped them away clumsily with her sleeves.

Her phone lay beside her.

Shaking, she picked it up.

And for the first time in what felt like forever… she logged into Twitter.

She had expected venom. Hatred. A tidal wave of cruelty.

Instead…

She saw hope.

"On stage, Kurokawa-san shines. She's always worked hard. She's not what the media claims. Please look again. I believe in her."

"Do any of the people accusing her even know her? Do they want her to die just for clicks?"

"I'm a fan of Yukima Azuma-sensei's novel. After reading it, I can't help but feel that Kurokawa Akane deserves another chance. I'll support her."

These weren't bots. These weren't orchestrated PR comments.

These were real.

People were speaking for her.

She stood frozen, phone in hand.

He did this…

She remembered vaguely that Yukima Azuma had reached out to MEM during the peak of her controversy.

She pressed call.

The phone rang once.

Twice.

Then—

"Moshi moshi, nyan grrr?" A sleepy voice, unmistakably MEM.

"…MEM-chan." Her voice cracked. Raspy. Barely audible. "It's me… Akane."

There was a clatter on the other end. MEM sat up.

"Akane-chan?! What's wrong? Are you okay?"

That voice, warm and full of concern, made Akane's chest tighten painfully.

She covered her mouth.

Tears fell again.

"…Yeah," she whispered. "I'm okay now."