Reina Hayami didn’t realize how stupid she was being until the words left her mouth.
Once she clearly saw the petite figure of the girl held in Yuki Asahi’s arms, her soul nearly left her body.
‘It’s Jiang Jian Yue! I’m so screwed.’
She really shouldn’t have gotten up in the middle of the night for water.
“Ah…” Reina’s face instantly flushed crimson, and she hurriedly said, “I didn’t see anything!”
She then flung the heavy curtains back into place and scrambled back to her room.
“….”
Behind the curtain, the breathing of the two people became somewhat ragged.
‘So… why didn’t she turn off the lights? Anyone who saw the bulging curtains would be curious enough to look if the living room lights were on!’
“So…”
Yuki wanted to steer the conversation back, but even he felt that the romantic atmosphere had been somewhat dissipated.
He would probably be brushed off by Yue again.
Having devoured so many various emotions, Yuki had unconsciously become quite adept at analyzing the human heart.
Jiang Jian Yue was stalling the confirmation of their relationship.
She seemed to always carry a sort of doomsday anxiety.
At the same time, she valued the “couple” identity more than anyone else.
Hidden beneath that valuation was insecurity.
Was it insecurity regarding an unfamiliar relationship? Or a fear of the future?
What Jiang Jian Yue feared wasn’t an extremely vicious enemy, nor was it schemes or calculations. She didn’t even care about losing her social status.
The only thing she seemed to fear was a more intimate connection — a relationship that would bind the two of them more tightly and make it harder to let go.
Yuki didn’t know the root cause of this fear. Even Jiang Jian Yue herself might not have realized it or been able to articulate it.
But he could roughly guess it was from her past experiences — or perhaps childhood trauma?
Her family of origin ultimately bore the blame for everything, at least according to Yuki’s analysis.
After all, he knew that Jiang Jian Yue’s mother was dead and her father had been absent for a long time.
Additionally, Yuki felt that Jiang Jian Yue had taken on responsibility far too early.
The consequence was that she had always used “arrogance” to disguise her vulnerability.
Because of her inherently kind nature, this arrogance didn’t overflow much into her interactions with friends. Instead, it manifested as: “I will take responsibility for you,” or “I am far-sighted; I am looking at the future.”
Because of the existence of DRG, the cost of Jiang Jian Yue taking responsibility was very small — which reinforced the cycle. External successes (taking responsibility for her friends in the Supernatural Club) validated her own defense strategy.
This led her thoughts to become increasingly intense: ‘I am right. I should take on more responsibility and be more cautious with my feelings.’
She took Yuki’s future and everything that could make her feel hurt into consideration, making her even more resistant to this unknown relationship.
Her so-called “far-sightedness” was actually “catastrophic thinking.”
She ignored all the tangible, visible sweetness in love, which naturally led to anxiety, resistance, and avoidance.
Jiang Jian Yue’s arrogance was adaptive in her work for DRG, but it was incredibly rigid in an intimate relationship.
This arrogance was like a self-spinning top, cutting deep into her heart, making her increasingly weary and exhausted.
Yuki believed that her constant fatigue likely wasn’t caused by her work.
The reason was probably Yuki himself.
It was because he had opened his heart again in Hokkaido that Jiang Jian Yue was forced to face the issue, resulting in such severe internal mental conflict.
The girl, cautiously afraid of being hurt, couldn’t entrust her heart to anyone. Her constant excuses were merely tactics to stall for time.
Although Yuki saw some of this clearly, he felt it might be better to wait until the GSAC ended, when he could take the honor they had discussed, defeat Jiang Jian Yue fairly, and then have a heart-to-heart with her.
That would lower her psychological defenses.
However, her sudden appearance at the Athletes’ Village tonight had caught him off guard.
Yuki guessed that something so serious it made her feel like she was going to explode with anxiety must have happened.
Therefore, Yuki wanted to take advantage of this moment of passion to settle this uncertain relationship once and for all.
Afterward, they could properly discuss her serious psychological issues.
“I might… leave… Japan,” Jiang Jian Yue said, neither directly agreeing nor refusing, but voicing the worry in her heart.
Saying those words seemed to cost her everything, but eventually, her stiff body relaxed.
“Eh?”
The hands Yuki had around the girl’s waist involuntarily tightened, and then he stammered, “Why…?”
“War… is unavoidable.” Jiang Jian Yue took a deep breath and continued, “I have to go… help Father… and also… help myself.”
“War… war?” Yuki’s voice was filled with shock.
The reason for Jiang Jian Yue’s anxiety was exposed before him, and he had no solution — if he did, the Nobel Peace Prize would be his.
To a post-modern Japanese teenager like Yuki, war seemed like something distant, coming from another world.
It had nothing to do with love and romance.
He tried his best to shift all his attention away from such a grand concept and onto Jiang Jian Yue as an individual.
After a brief moment of agitation, he buried his head deep in the girl’s hair, breathing in the scent of her shampoo.
Seeing that Yuki had no immediate comment, Jiang Jian Yue leaned against his chest and continued, “I… might be gone… for a long time… unable to… come back…”
“I might… not come back at all.”
“If… that’s the case… and you can still… accept it…”
“I’m willing.”
Jiang Jian Yue finally handed the choice back to Yuki, even though the process was agonizing.
Every word seemed to deplete what little spirit she had left.
The palms the girl pressed against Yuki’s back tightened, as if she needed to feel his warmth and touch his heartbeat to be satisfied.
“Didn’t I already say it?” Yuki’s words made her heart tremble; she instinctively assumed it was a rejection.
“I like Senior no matter what she’s like.”
Jiang Jian Yue felt like she was on a roller coaster, her mood rising and falling with Yuki’s words.
‘Little Chunan is so mean!’
“We have a deal, right? If I beat you, you become my girlfriend!”
“Eh?” Jiang Jian Yue suddenly found it a bit funny. Was her old stalling excuse being brought up again?
Even she felt that the excuse was a bit demanding.
After all, she was very strong now.
She didn’t know that this was one of Yuki’s ways of dismantling her psychological defense mechanisms.
“Now?” Jiang Jian Yue pulled her face back to look up at Yuki’s face.
Tomorrow was the finals for the Team Free-for-All.
“Isn’t there the Backtrack Backup System?”
‘Oh right, I’m such an idiot.’
Jiang Jian Yue broke free from his embrace, grabbed the hem of her shirt, and quickly pulled it off, revealing a black bra… and a girdle that Yuki didn’t recognize.
Yuki stared blankly, then instinctively glanced back at the living room through the curtain — he was afraid someone else might come out.
“Wait… wait, let’s go to my room instead!”
He hadn’t gone directly to the room earlier because he thought she might resist.
“What are you thinking?”
Jiang Jian Yue gave him a strange look, then stepped out of her trousers and underwear, tossing them into her Storage Space.
She turned around, her back to Yuki, and pressed herself against the floor-to-ceiling glass window. She gestured toward her bra and whispered, “Help me.”
Even now, Jiang Jian Yue felt that unequipped a bra was a hassle.
Yuki swallowed hard and began to undo the clasp with trembling hands. Fortunately, he had done this twice before for a greater thrill, so he wasn’t completely inexperienced.
After removing the equipment, what Yuki expected didn’t happen. Instead, with a low hum, Jiang Jian Yue’s entire body was tightly covered.
“Eh?” Yuki stared blankly at the girl in the Combat Suit. “So… so cool.”
“There’s… even cooler stuff.”
Jiang Jian Yue slid open the window and then picked Yuki up around his waist.
“Eh? Wait… wait…”
“Hold on tight.” Jiang Jian Yue’s voice came through the collar, unable to hide the laughter within.
“Eh? Are we really going to fl —”
Before he could finish, low-frequency noise filled his ears.
Yuki felt his body lighten as a massive g-force instantly pressed down on him. The scenery before him blurred and stretched, and while the wind roared, it was kept out by the force field.
The night wind was biting, but in this embrace full of technology and cold metal, Yuki felt a strange sense of peace.
The Tokyo beneath his feet turned into a sea of brilliant lights, with neon flashing and traffic flowing like a woven tapestry.
That was the world they lived in daily, but at this moment, it seemed so tiny.
“So fast…” Yuki instinctively clung tighter to the girl’s shoulders.
Of course it was.
A slate-gray meteor streaked across the night sky. In just a few breaths, the magnificent New National Stadium was right in front of them.
In the middle of the night, the stadium was like a sleeping giant, quiet and solemn.
Jiang Jian Yue didn’t go through the main entrance. Instead, she dived straight down through the gap in the massive oval roof.
Tap.
Her boots hit the ground with a crisp sound that echoed through the empty venue.
Jiang Jian Yue let go and set Yuki down.
“This is…” Yuki looked around. Only the emergency lights emitted a faint glow, and tens of thousands of empty seats looked like silent spectators.
Jiang Jian Yue raised her hand, pulled a Tablet from her Storage Space, and directly hijacked the stadium’s central control system.
Vroom —
The previously dormant venue instantly woke up.
The massive searchlights didn’t all turn on; instead, only one central beam flickered to life, like a pillar of light leading to heaven, enveloping the two of them.
“Come.”
“Let me see… how much… you’ve grown… along the way.”
Yuki took a deep breath and pulled off his shirt, revealing lean but well-defined muscle lines.
Under the light, the boy’s gaze gradually became sharp, and his original gentleness was replaced by a chilling fighting spirit.
“If I win…”
“I’m holding you to that promise.”
Jiang Jian Yue beckoned with her finger, a competitive fire burning in her blood-red eyes. “But… if you lose…”
“You have to be… Master’s… good little dog.”
“Huh?”