Beep beep beep—
The alarm clock rang.
The repetitive ringtone continuously drilled into her ears, gradually fishing her fragmented consciousness back up piece by piece.
Yukina slowly opened her eyes.
Her vision remained blurry for a few seconds before slowly focusing.
What appeared before her was… an unfamiliar ceiling.
No, it was not unfamiliar.
She remembered the hanging lamp above her head.
A thin layer of dust had gathered along the edge of the lampshade, the same as every morning she had woken up over these past two months.
This was her room.
The curtains had not been pulled tightly shut.
A thin strand of light squeezed in through the gap and fell onto the bedsheets, dyeing the wrinkled fabric a pale gold.
It’s already morning…
Yukina stared at that beam of light for a long time. Her mind felt heavy and muddled, as if it had been filled with sludge.
She could not remember how she had gotten home, nor could she clearly recall whether she had actually fallen asleep.
She only felt exhausted—an exhaustion that seeped out from her bones.
Her limbs were heavy. She could not even be bothered to turn over.
Her eyes felt very uncomfortable.
They were dry.
Her eyelids felt as if they had been scraped with sandpaper.
Even blinking hurt.
Was it because she had cried?
Yukina remembered that she had cried for a very long time.
She could not quite remember exactly when she had stopped.
She only remembered that the tears had kept falling until, in the end, no more would come out.
She did not want to get up.
She really did not want to get up.
Yukina wrapped the blanket even tighter around herself and buried herself in that thin darkness, wanting to escape everything.
But just then—
Meow.
A soft, milky meow came from under the bed.
Immediately afterward, a small fluffy ball of fur jumped onto the mattress and padded around on soft steps until it reached the side of her face.
Yukina rolled her eyes and met a pair of large amber eyes.
It was a kitten.
Black-and-white fur, one ear missing a small notch, looking as though it had not yet fully grown up. It tilted its head and examined her.
It was Huahua.
One month ago, near a streetlamp post close to her home, Yukina had encountered this kitten soaked through by the rain.
At the time it had been curled up inside a cardboard box, trembling.
Its cries had been drowned out by the rain, so weak it seemed as if it might disappear at any moment.
Yukina had found it too pitiful. Without thinking too much, she had brought it home.
Now it had recovered its health.
Compared to when it first arrived, it had even gained several circles of fat.
Round and plump, it had great potential to become a pig-cat.
Sniff sniff—
Huahua leaned close to her face. Its small pink nose twitched twice, then it stuck out its tongue and gently licked.
The cat’s tongue was rough, carrying a faint body heat.
Lick after lick, it wiped the tear-stained face, gradually licking away the tear tracks.
“Huahua, that tickles…”
Yukina mumbled softly, but she did not pull away.
For some reason, that rough yet gentle touch made her feel a little more at ease.
Purr purr—
Huahua licked with increasing enthusiasm. A continuous purring sound rose from its throat.
Its small paws stepped onto her shoulder, and its tail stood high.
Then it changed positions and began using its fluffy head to nudge under Yukina’s chin, gently nipping at her ear with its teeth.
The purring grew even louder than before.
Was it hungry?
“…Alright, alright. I know.”
Unable to refuse it, Yukina loosened the tightly wrapped blanket and used her elbows to push against the mattress in an attempt to sit up.
Yet the moment her palm pressed against the sheets and applied force…
“It hurts…!”
A sharp pain exploded from her wrist and shot up along her forearm all the way to her shoulder.
Yukina’s arm went soft. Her entire body fell back onto the pillow. A layer of cold sweat instantly beaded on her forehead.
It hurt so much.
She looked down at her wrist.
A circle of dark red binding marks was clearly imprinted on the fine white skin.
The pattern of the ribbon could still be faintly discerned.
The skin at the edges had been scraped raw and had formed a thin layer of blood scab.
It was left from yesterday.
“You say you’re not from the Family. Then prove it to me.”
The memory flashed past.
Those blood-red pupils looking down on her from above.
The white ribbon tightly wrapping around her wrists, digging into flesh, tighter and tighter, tighter and tighter…
Yukina shook her head hard, throwing the image away.
She took a deep breath, bit her lower lip, and switched to a posture that did not use her wrists.
Supporting herself with her elbows, she slowly sat up.
When her knees bent under the blanket, another dull ache came.
She pulled the blanket open and looked.
A patch of purplish-blue covered her right knee. The bruise showed through from beneath the skin, the color dark and heavy.
This was from accidentally hitting it when she fell in the restroom yesterday.
She had barely noticed it at the time. Only now had it started to hurt.
Yukina did not know what to say.
She pressed her lips together, shifted her legs off the bed, and stepped barefoot onto the floor.
The coolness of the wood came up through the soles of her feet.
She stood up. Various parts of her body ached faintly, causing her walking posture to sway unsteadily.
In the living room, Huahua could no longer wait. It circled around her ankles, its tail standing straight like a little flagpole, occasionally bumping its head against her calf.
Yukina crouched down, took out the bag of cat food from the cabinet, scooped a spoonful, and poured it into the metal bowl.
Ding ding dong.
The hard dry pellets fell into the metal bowl, producing crisp sounds.
Huahua almost threw itself onto the food. Its entire face buried into the bowl as it ate with loud crunching noises, occasionally shaking its head and sending a few pieces of cat food flying onto the floor.
“Be careful not to choke…”
Yukina crouched beside it and reached out to stroke Huahua’s back.
A fluffy sensation transmitted through her palm.
The small body arched up and down with the chewing motions.
She could feel the faint heartbeat beneath the ribs.
What a carefree little creature.
Yukina buried her face against her knees and watched it for a while, then slowly stood up and dragged her slightly limping leg toward the bathroom.
Tap.
The bathroom light turned on.
Harsh white light struck the mirror surface.
Yukina raised her head and looked at herself in the mirror.
“…What a mess.”
Disheveled, broken, lifeless.
The person in the mirror looked as if she had just escaped from a disaster site.
Through the gaps in her messy bangs, she could see eyes swollen red from crying.
Deep dark circles hung beneath them.
Her originally small face looked even more haggard because of the swelling.
She was still wearing yesterday’s school uniform.
The white shirt was wrinkled into a ball. A shoe print still remained at the waist.
Several buttons were missing, threads exposed.
The collar hung open. The skirt was also wrinkled, its edge stained with a bit of gray dust.
On her wrists, the binding marks looked especially glaring under the light—dark red lines like some kind of brand.
There was also a red mark beneath her collarbone.
Yukina pulled open the collar and tugged it down a little.
It was not one mark.
It was a whole patch.
Scratch marks extended from her right shoulder to her collarbone.
Three of them had broken the skin, a thin layer of dark red blood scab formed on the surface.
Scattered red bruises also remained.
The tail behind her now hung down like a withered plant, completely listless.
Yukina stared at herself in the mirror for a long time.
The remaining memories of yesterday also gradually surfaced in her mind.
After Mashiro rushed out the door, she had helplessly lain on the soft mats with both hands bound by the ribbon, tears continuously falling.
That useless tail had drooped against the mats, trembling.
She did not know how long she had lain there.
It might have been only a few minutes. It might have been a long time.
Only after she had cried herself exhausted did she sit up, bite one end of the ribbon with her teeth, and slowly loosen the slipknot.
The ribbon fell from her wrists, leaving behind a circle of burning red marks.
She did not return to class.
She did not dare.
She was afraid of seeing anyone, and also afraid of being seen by anyone.
Especially Mashiro.
So after roughly straightening her clothes, she chose to leave the school directly.
By then the sky had already darkened. Rain was about to fall.
There was almost no one on the road, and no one noticed her abnormality.
The key was inserted into the lock.
Click.
The door opened.
Huahua had greeted her at the entrance, meowing and circling around her ankles.
At that time Yukina had given no response. She had walked straight into the room, hidden under the covers, and cried for a long time once more.
Until she cried herself exhausted again and sank into a half-conscious, half-awake state, until daybreak, until the alarm rang.
Why… did things end up like this…
Yukina gripped the edge of the sink. Her knuckles slowly tightened, turning a bluish-white.
She did not want to blame anyone.
At this point, if someone had to take responsibility… she believed that person should be herself.
It’s all my fault. I messed everything up.
Yukina lowered her eyes. The light in them gradually extinguished.
She had thought everything was too simple. She had believed that as long as she did what she wanted to do, it would be fine—just like in a game, mindlessly selecting options that looked correct, without ever considering what Mashiro truly felt inside.
She had clearly known that Mashiro had been wounded that way.
She had clearly known that she had been abandoned by her mother.
She had clearly known that what Mashiro feared most was being given hope only for it to be taken away again.
Yet she had still ruined everything.
She was the one who had caused Mashiro to lose control.
What should I do.
The current situation had completely left the original script.
Originally, before the male protagonist appeared, as long as Mashiro was swallowed by the Blood Moon Disease, the plot would immediately head toward a blood-soaked ending.
But that had not happened now.
At least not yet.
That power inside Mashiro had vanished without any warning.
This was a situation that had never occurred in the game.
According to the settings, only the male protagonist could suppress that power.
No one else could do anything about it.
Yet now, that power had disappeared on its own.
“Why…”
Yukina’s hoarse voice echoed in the small bathroom. No one answered.
She did not clearly understand what this meant—whether it was the calm before a storm, or the only chance to bring the plot back on track.
But there was one thing she was certain of: she had to do something.
The image of Mashiro pressing her down yesterday faintly surfaced before her eyes.
At that time she had been afraid—extremely afraid. Yet apart from the instinctive fear, there had been another emotion… sadness.
For some reason, the Mashiro of that moment had reminded her of a certain scene.
Huahua.
Not the Huahua currently curled up on the sofa snoring, but the kitten from one month ago that had been curled up inside a cardboard box in the rain, its cries so weak it seemed it might disappear at any moment.
In those blood-red eyes, beneath the turbid loss of control, something even more fragile had been buried.
She vaguely felt that the Mashiro of that time… had been asking her for help.
Those actions that had left marks on her body had been more like a kind of struggle—just as a drowning person would desperately grab onto whatever was nearby, even if it dragged the other person under as well, refusing to let go.
Mashiro was too afraid. Afraid of being left alone once more.
So she could not just leave things like this.
…
Of course, this was only an intuition.
It might be true. It might not.
But she still wanted to talk with Mashiro.
Not the kind of “communication” from before, separated by a distance, separated by a screen, where she could only rely on guesses.
But truly face to face, saying everything that was in her heart clearly.
Maybe this is just another form of my “self-satisfaction.”
Yukina muttered softly in her heart, but this time, she wanted to try.
She was already deeply involved. If one day Mashiro was completely swallowed by the Blood Moon Disease, even if she continued hiding at home, she would definitely be dragged out and finished off.
Anyway, a small-fry character like herself, across countless world lines, was always someone the female protagonist casually wiped out.
So why not try fighting for once.
Self-pity while waiting to be saved was a privilege reserved for the female protagonist.
A small fry like herself had no right to enjoy it.
Do your best.
Yukina patted her own cheeks, lowered her head, and turned on the faucet.
Cold water rushed over her fingers with a whoosh, hitting the bottom of the ceramic basin and splashing up.
She cupped a handful and patted it onto her face. The icy water slid down her cheeks into her collar. Droplets fell one by one from the edges of her bangs.
The chill pierced her skin, and her brain instantly cleared a great deal.
Although the person in the mirror was still a mess, at least the light in her eyes had recovered a little.
Just then—
Click.
From outside the bathroom, in the direction of the living room, came the sound of the door opening.
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