About half an hour later.
After being mercilessly driven out by her younger sister, Haruno didn't have time to complain. She immediately returned home at full speed.
The moment she entered, she rushed straight upstairs. She moved so quickly that her mother Saori could barely keep up.
"Haruno, did you go see Yukino again?"
"Yes. I'm just a sister who cares about her little sister."
Giving her mother a casual answer, Haruno quickly shut and locked the door behind her, tossing her bag and jacket onto the bed.
Then, she sat down in front of her dressing table and began to calm her restless heart.
"Hahh…"
She exhaled all the air from her lungs. After her chest felt tight and burning, she slowly inhaled cold air into her body.
Looking at her serious expression in the mirror, Haruno nodded slightly, as if confirming something. Then, she pulled a comb from the pocket on her chest.
A simple, cheap springtime painting—
Yet, this comb had gradually become her talisman. She felt uneasy without carrying it, and had grown accustomed to pulling it out to fiddle with. She could even stare at it and smile for ten minutes without realizing it.
Even so, ever since the day she woke up in the hotel, Haruno had never used it to comb her hair.
In fact, combing her hair with it made her feel overwhelmingly sad—she wouldn't do it unless she wanted to torture herself.
"This really is like a cursed comb..." She murmured unconsciously, stroking the painting on the comb with her finger.
Even Haruno, who was rational and realistic, had to admit that perhaps there were things and objects beyond understanding, things that defied logic.
And right now, she herself was experiencing this strangeness.
Like stepping out of a false world and touching the reality hidden behind the fog, this unfamiliar feeling didn't frighten her. Instead, a strange sense of anticipation and excitement filled her heart, pushing her to act and no longer live without purpose.
"Alright, let's begin..."
In the room, alone with pale lamplight, the night felt dead, as if swallowed by deep darkness.
Her heartbeat remained fast, but her breathing gradually stabilized, and her fingers didn't tremble at all.
Haruno slowly raised the comb, its teeth sliding into her highlighted black hair, gently combing from the top of her head.
At the same time, she calmly closed her eyes and began imagining the various scenes her sister had described to her.
"Carrying her up the mountain, chatting and being affectionate all the way..."
"Even while eating, they were intimate—so clingy even while walking..."
"Holding hands on the way back in the rain, pressing cheeks together in sticker photos..."
In truth, since she wasn't particularly interested in the two of them, Yukino's descriptions were very simple, basically just mentioned in a few words.
Haruno had to add her own imaginative seasoning, picturing romantic scenes... like kissing in the rain, or doing things that shouldn't be seen by others inside a photobooth.
Then, accompanied by these fantasies, she slowly combed her hair with the wooden comb.
Once, twice...
"Ugh."
Suddenly, her heart felt like it was being pulled.
The scene flashing in her mind was of that boy carrying a girl and walking leisurely down the street. They spoke intimately, whispering into each other's ears.
The girl's face was blurry, but for a moment, her silver hair turned into slightly wavy shoulder-length black hair. The mountain path transformed into a city street, the sunny day into night. Everything softly and gently wrapped around the two of them.
Unfortunately, it wasn't her standing there.
This wasn't a memory—just an illusion.
Haruno took a deep breath. The comb, which had paused mid-way, resumed downward, passing the ends of her hair, then returned to the top of her head.
"He's just a boy I've only met a few times. There's no way I could like him..."
With this premise, the comb smoothed her hair once more. In her mind, she imagined another scene.
—At lunch, did he help her eat food she couldn't finish?
—While shopping for clothes, did he deliberately ask about her body measurements?
—When passionately kissing, did he secretly slip his tongue into her mouth?
The comb slipped from her head, bringing with it the despair of never experiencing that tenderness again.
Fragmented scenes flashed through her mind, accompanied by sorrow that such tenderness wasn't hers.
Why?
Why was he so far from her—so distant that she couldn't reach him no matter how far she stretched her hand?
"Ugh..." Haruno trembled unconsciously. Her hair-combing motion slowed like a broken machine.
—Pain.
More painful than imagined, a pain she'd never felt since birth.
Two different kinds of pain overlapped—like a dull, rusted knife slicing into her heart, one cut, two cuts, cutting deep...
She gasped several times. Her lips turned pale from biting, her face bloodless.
Though her eyes were closed, Haruno knew how pitiful and distorted the expression reflected in the mirror must be right now.
Like a fish separated from water, like a bird that lost its nest.
"Hah… If anyone saw me like this, it'd be troublesome."
She sneered, her voice hoarse and fragile.
Losing face didn't matter. She only feared people might mistake her for performing some strange ritual.
These things often appeared in urban legends, didn't they?
If you comb your hair in front of a mirror at midnight, you can see the face of your destined soulmate in the future—she remembered the legend like that.
Haruno didn't believe in superstitions and naturally scoffed at such things… Yet now, she was in such agony just from imagination and combing her hair, nearly in tears. This was even stranger than any urban legend.
"If I had to call it, this is the power of love, isn't it?"
She sneered, not stopping her movements, continuing to torture herself, wanting to understand this pain more deeply.
(I heard there's an amusement park in Kiyomizu Scenic Area)
Then, would they have fun at the amusement park, try the roller coaster, pirate ship, and Ferris wheel, and at the most romantic moment, make eternal promises to each other...
*CRACK!*
Unconsciously, the wooden comb slipped from her hand and fell to the floor.
Haruno slowly opened her eyes. In the blurry world, she saw her reflection in the mirror, two streams of tears running down her cheeks. She looked like a pitiful girl who had lost her lover—confused and helpless.
"...Can anyone tell me why this is happening?"
She smiled, somewhat desperate and bitter.
With a red nose, she sniffled, wiped her tears, and picked up the comb. Then, exhausted, she lowered her head onto the cold dressing table.
Her cheek rolled against the surface, and Haruno punched the table several times with her fist, lamenting like a dying person.
"Aaaa—I really don't want to do this again—!"
She wasn't a masochist. Physical pain she could endure, but mental pain was truly unbearable!
And even though she'd already felt this pain, she still didn't understand why she cared so much about that man—so much that she could even say she liked him.
Everything related to him was so strange.
"...I've decided!"
With her face hidden in her arm, Haruno said to herself in a slightly childish voice: "I'll completely stop this double suicide attack of combing and imagining!"
"If I want answers, I have to approach him directly and communicate deeply with him. I'll surely get more information... Yes, no need to go to such extremes."
Something must've been wrong with her brain a few days ago, making her think of such twisted self-torture methods like "destroy to rebuild" and "use pain to understand truth."
"From now on, just act normal. I shouldn't get used to torturing myself, right..."
Haruno sighed softly and lifted her gaze.
With her head resting on her arm, she reached out again. Her reddened fingertips touched the wooden comb on the dressing table, and the confusion in her eyes still hadn't cleared.
"Tenkuji Yuu… Yuu-chan."
Even that nickname felt sweet and bitter.
"What have you done to me without my knowledge?"
◆━⊰✧⊱━◆
That same night, in a different luxurious apartment.
"I give you half my life, and you give me half of yours, that's how it is..."
Lying on the bed like an X, Masuzu stared at the ceiling, murmuring with a serious expression:
"This is equal exchange, not love… This is equal exchange, ours alone, never betraying each other..."
She suddenly giggled, grabbing a pillow and pressing it over her foolish smile, which had lost all elegance. She squeezed the blanket between her thighs and rolled around several times.
"Ghehe, ghehehehe~ Saikō ni hai da yo~"