Episode 105: “Yui-san, Please, Don’t Cry”
I had a dream.
Inside a movie theater with no doors, no exits at all, cast in pitch darkness, I sat alone in front of an enormous screen.
Staring at the blank white screen, showing nothing, a silhouette gradually began to surface.
Long black hair. Swaying in a spring breeze. She looked at me and smiled, a little younger than she is now — still the girl I fell in love with for the first time back in our school days.
Fragmented images, stitched together, projected one after another, then faded away.
Ah, I see. These are my memories.
The day I first met Yui-san at the airport. Catching sight of her smile the moment she found me, I found myself entranced by her beauty.
Riding in the passenger seat of her glossy black luxury car on the way to her house, I kept staring at her perfect profile.
Her dark eyes, drawing me in; the clean line of her nose; her soft, well-shaped lips; the delicate line of her jaw — every part of her caught my eye with an almost frightening intensity.
Vivid, still burned into my mind even now, refusing to fade. That’s how overwhelming meeting her was.
*
The night she stayed up with me, homesick and unable to sleep.
The gentle taste of sweet hot milk with honey.
Whenever I was lonely, she always held me gently.
Whenever I said I was hungry, she’d always laugh and make me a late-night snack.
I loved watching her profile as she stood in the kitchen, highball in hand.
Our first kiss, tasting faintly of grapefruit.
The night after we fought, the first time I ever felt that tight, aching loneliness in my chest.
The huge orca we saw at the aquarium. Water droplets glittering, catching the summer sunlight. The taste of sea spray.
Fireworks we watched from the hotel one summer night. The scent of her perfume as she held me.
The day I stopped her from walking out and leaving me behind, and finally managed to say “don’t go” for the first time.
Christmas, when Yui-san gave me the necklace she’d always treasured.
The planetarium we watched side by side, promising each other that someday we’d go somewhere with a beautiful view of the stars.
The bittersweet night we first shared our bodies together—
And then — the devastated look on your face, the moment I screamed “I hate you.”
The day before we broke up, the strength of the arms that held me, and the feel of your cold tears, speaking of your sorrow more eloquently than any words ever could — I still remember it, even now.
The memories raced past like a highlight reel, projected onto the screen one after another before fading out. These were the fragments of memory I’d carefully tucked away.
It’s kind of like a life flashing before my eyes, I thought, somewhere in that hazy space between dream and reality.
It had been a once-in-a-lifetime love, the kind that made you forget how to breathe.
A love that left you crying, screaming, covered in wounds.
And still — meeting you was the single greatest stroke of luck in my whole life.
Right then, the image on the screen cut off abruptly.
Wait. Please, don’t end here. This story still has more to it. We’re still chasing after what comes next, even now.
I wanted to keep watching, but someone was calling my name.
Just as even the screen’s light was going out, and I felt myself sinking into darkness, someone gripped my hand — tight, tightly.
An unfamiliar white ceiling filled my vision, and I realized immediately this wasn’t my own home.
A moment later, a sharp pain hit my head, then my whole body, and I let out an involuntary groan.
“Kanata…!”
Not understanding what had happened, I turned only my eyes toward the voice.
“Yui-san…?”
I said her name, quietly. It came out too hoarse to really be a voice.
I noticed my left hand was warm, held tightly. How long had she been holding my hand like this? Her palm was damp with sweat.
Yui-san was there, her eyes red.
She’d left that morning in a suit without a single wrinkle, but the white blouse peeking out from her rolled-up sleeves was crumpled, soaked through and gone translucent — from wiping away tears again and again, it seemed.
Every time she blinked, fat tears welled up and spilled over, running down her pale cheeks, tracing the line of her slender jaw, dripping down.
Why was she crying? I wanted to reach up and wipe her tears away, but my arm was shockingly heavy, and my elbow ached so badly I couldn’t bear it, my face twisting with the pain. My hand flopped back down onto the blanket.
“Yui-san, the meeting… what happened?”
I asked, and Yui-san shook her head side to side.
“None of that matters. I heard you fell down the stairs… that you were taken away in an ambulance, so…”
I clearly remembered up until the point I’d been talking with Kitagami-san on the emergency stairs.
He’d shaken off the hand I’d reached out to stop him with, and I’d lost my balance — right, I’d fallen down the stairs.
Everything after that was only fragmented, scattered pieces of memory… hazy.
Looking out the window, the sun was already starting to set, amber evening light spilling into the hospital room.
Had she really — slipped away to come here?
Today was supposed to be that important meeting.
Yui-san kept wiping her tears with her sleeve, crying.
“Your eyes are so red. Have you been crying this whole time…?”
“Because… I was scared. The doctor said there’s nothing to worry about, but still…”
“Yui-san, please, don’t cry.”
Yui-san understands the grief of losing someone precious better than anyone.
And here I’d caused her this much anxiety, just from carelessly getting hurt.
My chest tightened painfully, and I felt like I might start crying too.
I wanted to hold her, but from the fall down the stairs, it seemed I’d hit and scraped myself in various places besides just my head, and my body wouldn’t move the way I wanted it to.
“I’m sorry… for causing trouble on such an important day.”
“No. I’m just glad you’re okay. Really, so relieved… You were with Shinji, weren’t you? If he did anything to you, I’ll go straight to the police—”
“It’s not like that. It’s not Kitagami-san’s fault.”
I wasn’t covering for him — it was the truth. He’d only shaken off my arm; he hadn’t pushed me. I’d simply lost my footing.
I remembered him reaching out, trying to catch me as I fell. It absolutely wasn’t intentional. This had been a pure accident.
“More importantly, are you really all right? You walked out on the meeting halfway through…”
“It’s fine. I told Dad I was leaving because you’d gotten hurt. I’ve already contacted Yuki-nii too.”
“I see…”
Ah, I really messed up. It had been such a precious chance for a family dinner, just the three of them, and I’d ruined it.
Right, I needed to tell Yui-san what Kitagami-san had said. Thinking that, I tried to sit up, but Yui-san hurriedly pressed my shoulder down to stop me.
“Kanata. Don’t sit up. You’re being admitted starting today.”
“What, admitted? It was just a minor injury…”
“It’s not minor. Just wait until you see yourself in a mirror later, you’ll be shocked. You’re covered in bruises head to toe. We’re lucky nothing was broken, but…”
Hearing that, I reached up to touch where I’d hit my head. I’d thought I’d just gotten a bump, but apparently the injury was worse than I’d realized.
“I see. I’m sorry, when you’re so busy… more importantly — Yui-san, about Kitagami-san, there’s something—”
Right as I said that, there was a knock, and the hospital room door opened at the same moment. Realizing someone had come in, I turned my aching, creaking neck toward the door.
Standing there was a tall man, dressed in an expensive-looking black pinstripe suit.
The Ichinose Group’s company pin gleamed on his chest. Sharp, well-groomed eyebrows, glossy black hair swept back. A sharp, refined face, almost like a Doberman.
“Dad…”
“Oh…”
He quietly closed the door behind him and looked steadily at me. His eyes were the same color as Yui-san’s.
I remembered the old photograph her father had shown me once before.
This person — was Yui-san’s father.
Feeling it would be rude to stay lying down, I tried to sit up again, only to be stopped once more by Yui-san’s hand on my shoulder.
“Kanata, I said don’t sit up.”
“B-but… please excuse me for staying like this, President Ichinose…”
“Please, don’t worry about that. More importantly, I’m truly sorry you were injured while at work. To think my own daughter’s important person got hurt like this… I can hardly face Aozawa’s family.”
“…No, it was my own carelessness.”
With such sharp, well-defined features, my first impression of him had an intimidating quality, almost like a hunting dog — but once he actually spoke, his manner was remarkably gentle.
He really is Yui-san and Yukiya-san’s father, I thought, and that realization put me a little more at ease.
President Ichinose’s gaze drifted to Yui-san. Noticing her eyes, red from crying, he let out a helpless laugh and ruffled her hair.
“What’s with that face, it’s unbecoming. Yui, if you’re this unreliable, Kanata-chan here is going to worry too. Pull yourself together.”
“…Stop it, Dad.”
Yui-san swatted his hand away, looking annoyed. Getting a glimpse of this father-daughter exchange between the Ichinoses, I couldn’t help but relax a little, a smile tugging at my cheeks.
“Um, President Ichinose. I’m so sorry — because of me, today’s meeting and the dinner you had planned both fell through…”
Please, don’t scold Yui-san. I looked up at him, my eyes pleading with that hope.
I knew how important the presidents’ meeting was. And this time especially, being the meeting that capped off the whole year’s results — I wasn’t unaware of what it meant for the president to walk out on it on the very day.
“…Certainly, as long as she’s entrusted with running the company as president, there will always be times she has to prioritize work over her personal life. But as for this particular case, I have no intention of blaming Yui, so please don’t worry. Everyone has something more important to them than work. That… I think I understand that more painfully than most.”
A sharp ache ran through my chest. I remembered what Yui-san had told me before — about the day her mother passed away.
That day, Yui-san’s father had had an important meeting. So he hadn’t been able to go home to a family member who wasn’t feeling well, and as a result, on the way to the hospital, the car Yui-san’s mother had been driving got into an accident.
Her father’s inability to come home wasn’t the direct cause of the accident. Objectively, it really was just a coincidence.
And yet, humans are the kind of creatures who can’t help but regret their own actions regardless. How much must Yui-san’s father have regretted prioritizing work that day.
That’s why — I thought — Yui-san’s father probably wouldn’t blame Yui-san for this.
“And actually… after the presidents’ meeting ended, Shinji-kun came to see me. He told me everything, about the two of you. Honestly, I’m still processing it. Part of me finds it hard to believe.”
I felt the blood drain from my face all at once.
He’d gotten there first. Realizing he’d beaten us to it, I bit my lip in frustration.
Kitagami-san had no idea how deeply wrong it was to out someone else’s sexual orientation without their consent.
Rising anger flooded my vision with red.
Yui-san kept her head down, not lifting her face.
I didn’t know exactly how Kitagami-san had presented things to President Ichinose.
But I’d wanted it to be Yui-san’s own words that told him.
As if trying to reassure the two of us, now fallen silent, President Ichinose continued in a low, composed voice.
“…Of course, I have no intention of making a judgment based on hearing only one side of the story. Kanata-chan, once your injuries have healed, let’s talk about this properly again. Yui, that works for you too, right?”
“Dad.”
Yui-san gripped my hand tightly. And lifted her bowed head.
“…I’m serious about this.”
At those words, President Ichinose said nothing, only looking steadily into Yui-san’s eyes. Whether that look held approval or disapproval, I couldn’t tell.
“I understand. Yui, we’ll talk about that another time. For now, let’s let her rest. And — have you properly let Aozawa’s family know? They must be worried. An employee got injured while on the job. Make sure you fulfill your responsibilities as president properly.”
Said in that calm, admonishing tone, Yui-san nodded obediently.
“And also… after hearing everything from Shinji-kun today, I spoke with Yukiya too. He bowed his head to me, asking that I hear the two of you out first before making any judgment.”
Yui-san’s head snapped up.
Yukiya-san had gone that far, for our sake. Something warm welled up deep in my chest.
“…I wonder how many years it’s been since I last talked with Yukiya. It made me happy. Your mother was always good at bringing people together too, but you two are truly so alike, aren’t you, father and daughter. Kanata-chan, this is thanks to you. Thank you.”
“Oh, no, I didn’t do anything…”
As I denied it, President Ichinose gave a soft, gentle smile. I’d always thought Yui-san took after her mother, but that smile of his was remarkably like Yui-san’s own.
“Well, I shouldn’t overstay my welcome, I should get back to the office. Yui, I’m counting on you to look after Kanata-chan.”
“…Yeah, I know.”
Still gripping my hand, Yui-san nodded, just once.