Chapter 58

"I promised I'd marry her."

Kitajo Shione stared at the words on the screen. In an instant the sounds around her blurred, as though she'd been dropped into the middle of the sea.

The briny water stung; her eyes flushed crimson, and tears streamed in thick rivulets, soaking dark blossoms into her jeans.

Every breath dragged fresh pain across her heart.

Then her head gave a sudden buzz, and Shione snapped back to herself.

A laugh slipped out.

Her fingers, bone-white around the phone, trembled. Tears traced the curve of her smile.

The feeling was like stirring honey into salt water—sweetness and ache inseparable.

"Haa..."

She straightened, exhaling as though a weight had slid from her shoulders. In her glistening eyes lingered a flicker of satisfaction.

Really, acting as if she could cut the past away with one clean stroke—she'd never been that ruthless.

She'd thought she'd need another plan, but his stance had shifted faster than she expected.

"Heh..."

Shione traced the line Kiyoya had sent, smiled faintly, and typed:

"Why?"

"Did Takahashi-san break up with you?"

The message turned to Read at once, and a terse reply popped up.

Shiratori Kiyoya: No.

Kitajo Shione: Huh? Then she agreed?

Shiratori Kiyoya: I'll tell her myself.

Shione's eyes narrowed; her thumb hovered.

"I do think you should explain properly. But I won't meddle..."

Reading that, Kiyoya felt a wry tug at his lips. If she truly never meddled, Saori wouldn't have barged in, and Mio wouldn't be in the loop. He didn't believe for a second that Shione could keep a secret.

He typed: "Actually, Mio brought it up first. She'll agree—don't worry."

Kiyoya wasn't worried Shione would run to Mio. When he'd made the promise to Saori, it was partly because he couldn't leave the girl adrift, and partly because Mio herself had said that night, "Even if you date her, I can accept it."

Still, factoring in Mio's pride, he had pushed the timeline three years ahead.

The chat showed "typing..." for over a minute.

Finally, a line appeared.

Kitajo Shione: Don't you think that's unfair?

Unfair?

Kiyoya blinked. He assumed she meant between Mio and Saori, yet a whisper suggested she meant between herself and Saori.

His lips pressed tight; he forced the reply out.

"It's mutual. Feelings don't come with a fairness clause. Call me a scumbag if you need—everyone walks their own road..."

"Besides, your concert's next month. Dwelling on things that aren't your business will only drag you down."

He almost added "mind your own life," but stopped himself.

The message sent. Shione didn't answer for a long time, as though tangled in her own thoughts.

Just as Kiyoya decided the conversation was over and reached to close the app, her reply arrived—two short lines.

"I understand."

"Be happy."

He exhaled, relief flooding him, and swiped the chat closed.

Arms folded behind his head, he stared at the ceiling until his eyes lost focus, an old memory seeping through the cracks...

Inside the recording booth, after two red lights, Shione barely scraped through the third take.

Truthfully, the quality was poor, nowhere near her standard; she'd have to re-record. Suppressing his worry, Kiyoya handed her a bottle of water.

"Shione, are you off lately? Getting enough rest?"

"Mm..."

Knowing she'd underperformed, she couldn't meet his eyes and nodded guiltily, offering the mineral water back. Understanding, he twisted off the cap and held it out. Her eyes curved like crescents, joy flickering across her features.

When she had drunk her fill, he hesitated, weighing every word.

"Shione, remember you said we'd train at Budokan? Lately you seem... distracted."

"Uh..."

Sensing the shift in his tone, she lowered the bottle and blinked up at him, then sighed.

"But if I throw all my time into work, I can't give you my full attention. That wouldn't be fair to you, right?"

She brightened again, smiling blissfully.

"Besides, things are fine as they are, aren't they?"

"Don't worry about me. I'll manage—promise. I'll get to Budokan."

People are strangely confident about the things they can't do.

Shione was no different.

She tried—he could see it—but as long as he stayed close, her focus drifted to him, beyond her control.

For two straight months her singing stats hadn't budged.

Eventually she seemed to accept it, sulking briefly before making peace with herself. She looped her arms through his and cooed:

"I guess this is my limit. After we marry, you'll just have to support me..."

You're capable of so much more.

Kiyoya wanted to say it, but the words died on his tongue; they would have been pointless.

As long as he remained in her orbit, her life would revolve around him.

...

He drew a steadying breath and pulled his gaze from the ceiling.

Even without thinking, he knew Shione was hurting tonight.

Better a quick cut than a slow bleed.

He had to be ruthless—tell her plainly that he had chosen Saori, so she could let go.

Perhaps it was unfair.

But...

An image rose: a girl clutching a long blade, smiling through tears. Kiyoya's eyes calmed, resolve returning.