Chapter 10: The Hero Who Will Come to Save Me Whenever I Call
"Even if I refuse you, I'll still talk to myself and use coaxing and deception to achieve my goal, so whatever makes you happy, senpai."
"As you wish~"
Yukino Yukinoshita exhaled softly, clearly tired of his endless playfulness. She turned, packing up the remaining cookies neatly into small bags, each tied with methodical precision.
"...But I still need to make it clear beforehand."
Her tone shifted gentle, but steady.
"I'm someone who could die at any moment," she said, eyes unmoving as she met Narumi's. "You can still shift your focus back to my sister."
She said it so plainly. So casually.
As if describing the weather.
Narumi's smile faltered. That nonchalant way she treated her proximity to death like it was a mere fact of life struck something deep inside him.
"Even if you were sent by her to play house with me," Yukino continued, her lips curving faintly, "I've already made you very happy. That's enough for you to complete your mission."
"Oh dear," Narumi said lightly, forcing a smile. "It's really hurtful for you to assume that's what I'm doing."
"Then why is that senpai still sticking to me," she replied sharply, "like a piece of chewing gum that's lost its flavor?"
"Can't it be because I like being with cute girls?" Narumi countered, as if stating an irrefutable truth. "If you're willing, Yukino, we can just say 'Goodbye, I'm an Alien,' and elope to the moon, okay?"
Her brows twitched. "Elopement? Don't push your luck. Although I know I'm quite cute—"
"Such an adorable Yukino Yukinoshita," he interrupted mischievously, grinning wide.
"Could you sing that one song? You know 'Chu! Sorry for being so cute, sorry for living in this era, Chu! Sorry for standing out so much, I know you can't help but notice me—sorry!'"
The moment the words left his mouth, Yukino froze, cheeks burning red.
"Wha—?! Y-you—!"
She snatched her backpack and hurled it straight at him.
Narumi dodged effortlessly, spinning dramatically in a 360° twirl and landing gracefully with both hands raised.
"Perfectly dodged the physical attack, took zero damage! Score: 10 points!" he declared triumphantly. "And since I was attacked by a JK, I'm adding 10,000 bonus points!"
"You...!"
Yukino could barely form words.
Narumi's absurdity, his impossible lack of shame, his infuriating smile everything about him seemed designed to disarm her carefully built composure.
And yet, beneath her exasperation, there was something else a faint warmth she didn't want to acknowledge.
He was ridiculous. He was insufferable.
But when he was around, the heavy silence that usually filled her world seemed a little lighter.
"…Sigh. Although it's hard to say, I still have to thank you."
Her tone softened unexpectedly.
Narumi blinked. "Oh?"
Realizing what she had just said, Yukino quickly straightened her clothes, hiding her flustered expression behind a dignified posture.
"It helped me out of a tight spot when I was making cookies earlier," she said matter-of-factly. "So, thank you."
Even while keeping her illness a secret, she still cared about how others saw hernstill clung to that quiet pride that refused to let her look weak in front of anyone.
Narumi chuckled. "So what's the thank-you gift?"
"Um...?"
"It can't just be polite formalities, can it? No way, no way?"
Unexpectedly, Narumi showed absolutely no restraint, pushing his luck with practiced ease.
"--Just kidding." He waved it off before she could scold him. "I've gathered some really useful material today, so that's enough reward for me."
He held up the bag of cookies she had made, eyeing them with mock seriousness. "If I study these carefully, I might make a huge breakthrough in the field of bizarre cuisine."
"…In short," Yukino muttered with faint irritation, "thank you. I won't do it again."
"Won't do what?"
"Ask for help from others."
Narumi frowned slightly. "Is there even a situation where one doesn't need help from others at all?"
"This is my own business," Yukino said firmly. "Seeking protection and help from others is a sign of weakness and incompetence. I will try my best to prevent this from happening again."
As she spoke, she winced faintly, her hand subconsciously pressing against her abdomen.
Narumi's smile faded.
Pancreatitis.
He had read her medical report earlier in this simulation. He knew the symptoms sharp, stabbing pain in the upper abdomen, sometimes with nausea, fever, exhaustion. She was holding it in, pretending to be fine. Pretending everything was normal.
For a long time, he said nothing.
Then, quietly, he sighed.
"To pretend nothing's wrong and endure everything—that's one of the definitions of weakness in your own dictionary, isn't it, Yukino?"
"…Long-winded."
"How would President Yukinoshita, who's upright and incorruptible and detests lies, deal with someone who constantly lies to others, and to herself?"
"I've already said it's my own business," she snapped. "It has nothing to do with you."
"If this were a trial," Narumi replied, stepping closer, his tone suddenly quiet but sharp, "that explanation wouldn't absolve you, Yukino."
The black-haired girl instinctively took a step back as the curly-haired youth advanced.
"Whether it's a trial for truth or a lie or a verdict on love," he said softly, "if you can't face your own feelings, you lose. In the end, a suspended sentence is just the judge being merciful. That's all."
Yukino crossed her arms, trying to steady her voice. "If you applied that metaphor properly to your novels, maybe they wouldn't be stillborn."
Even as her aura dimmed, she refused to lose the argument.
"A pound of pressure!" Narumi suddenly exclaimed, pointing dramatically. "Your negative attitude toward the game deserves a guilty verdict!"
"So don't start acting like the lawyer protagonist from some word game," Yukino shot back, "childish and pretentious—are you a grade schooler?"
"Lack of frankness is a major taboo, my fellow debater," Narumi retorted grandly.
She groaned. "You really never stop, do you…"
Narumi only smiled, then held out something toward her the cookies he had made.
"When your own argument lacks sufficient evidence," he said gently, "you should call for outside help. No need to worry about saving face."
Yukino blinked, momentarily stunned.
Along with the cookies, something small and metallic rested in her palm the whistle she had used earlier.
"Off-field assistance will appear whenever you call," Narumi said with a grin. "We're dedicated to serving you."
"…You really are something else."
She stared down at the whistle in her hand, its cool surface pressing into her skin. This time, she didn't push his hand away. She didn't reject his words.
"Does he think he's Superman, able to transform just by taking off his glasses?" she muttered under her breath.
Narumi laughed. "Isn't it reliable to have a hero who appears whenever you call? Plus, he's really cool."
"As I said before," Yukino replied softly, "you're wasting your time on a dying woman. There will be no reward."
"What does it matter?" he said, meeting her eyes. "I enjoy wasting time with you. At least the time I waste on you feels more like time than any other time."
Yukino said nothing.
But her grip on the cookie bag tightened unconsciously, her composure faltering.
Her eyes, always calm and sharp, flickered with confusion maybe even fear.
"…I'm not good at sophistry," she murmured finally. "So feel free to keep playing your third-rate role."
Narumi chuckled. That smooth, teasing voice of his—it drove her mad. But she could understand now, in a way her sister once must have, why Haruno had fallen for him.
Do heroes really exist who come when you call for help?
And if they do why do they only appear in a simulated future?
Her fingers closed around the cold metal whistle, pressing it against her palm.
Narumi, standing a few steps away, smiled faintly in response to her uncertain gaze.
"Just a third-rate character?" he said softly. "Couldn't he be... a little more special?"
He lifted one of Yukino's cookies and took a bite without a flinch, without hesitation.
"If it's not someone you're truly interested in," he murmured, almost to himself, "then no matter how much you try it... it won't taste special."
It was an offhand remark, yet it seemed to guide their relationship in an unspeakable direction.
——————
———
Yukino Yukinoshita never confided in anyone about the pain and sorrow that had taken root in her life since she fell ill.
Her pride wouldn't allow her to show weakness, and her virtually nonexistent circle of friends offered no place to release the emotions that quietly gnawed at her heart.
Even Yukino herself didn't know how she had contracted the disease.
But it wasn't a big deal at least, that's what she kept telling herself. Only fifty to sixty percent of severe pancreatitis patients die from organ failure.
Not a big deal at all. It just meant she'd approach death a few decades earlier than her peers.
It's no big deal… besides, this was only a simulated world.
At the very least, her family would start to value her existence more.
That was the fragile logic Yukino clung to the only way a high school girl could numb herself enough to keep following the doctor's orders.
When the news of her condition reached the Yukinoshita family, the initial shock and disbelief gave way to desperate activity. Her parents threw themselves into the treatment plan, trying to make up for lost time.
Mrs. Yukinoshita her mother, whose relationship with Yukino had always been complicated put aside her social obligations and turned her full attention to her daughter's recovery.
She made calls to hospitals, consulted specialists, monitored appointments. The care was constant, smothering.
And so, when Yukino Yukinoshita returned to her apartment that evening, the first thing she saw after opening the door was her mother's cold, sharp gaze, filled with restrained disapproval.
"Yukino, I've already told you this before, haven't I?"
Her mother's tone was deceptively gentle warm and maternal on the surface, but carrying the weight of expectation beneath it.
"If you're not feeling well, you should stay in the hospital and rest. Don't worry about your attendance at school; I'll arrange your sick leave. Before acting impulsively, at least consider your parents' feelings, okay?"
"I know, Mother, but—"
"I understand you don't want to fall behind in your studies and relationships," her mother interrupted smoothly, voice calm as ever. "But medical expenses are a significant burden as well. When dealing with such matters, please be more mature like Haruno."
Mrs. Yukinoshita sat perfectly upright, her every movement elegant as she poured herself a cup of tea. Even while scolding, she radiated composure and grace, the very image of a woman from a prestigious household.
"How are you feeling today? Any pain? Any discomfort?" she asked, setting her cup down gently. "If you feel unwell, tell me or the doctor right away. After all, your father, sister, and I have been doing everything we can for you. Getting sick isn't just your problem it affects the entire family. So even for our sake, you should take better care of yourself."
Every word was correct. Every sentence came from concern.
And yet… each syllable pressed down like invisible chains.
"I know you think I'm nagging," her mother continued softly, eyes lingering on Yukino's face. "But if something were to happen to you… what would I do?"
"…Yes, Mother."
Yukino bowed her head and quietly retreated to her room.
But even this constant, suffocating care couldn't ease the tension inside her.
She should have been happy. She should have felt grateful that her family finally valued her existence. She should have faced life with positivity.
And yet—
That suffocating sensation in her chest, that heaviness that made her feel like she was being forced to swallow bitter medicine as a child it never left her.
It was love, yes. But it was also a weight she couldn't bear.
All these experiences after her diagnosis made her begin to question everything.
What was the point of chasing perfection? Of walking in her sister's footsteps?
How could someone who lived just to prove her worth to others measure the depth of her existence when her own life could end at any time?
How could she determine her value when tomorrow might not come?
The television in the living room blared with the same endless news segment: reports of the once-in-a-millennium comet drawing closer to Earth. The volume was so loud that Yukino could hear every word from her room.
She sat at her desk, slowly opening the package of cookies. The faint, sweet smell of milk wafted out, soothing the heaviness inside her just a little.
It turns out eating sweets could really lift one's mood.
Sugar stimulates dopamine, making people feel happiness more easily.
"I'll tell that to that curly-haired idiot next time," she muttered softly to herself. "He likes collecting useless trivia like that for his novels."
The corner of her lips lifted faintly.
After swallowing the last bite, Yukino's eyes fell to the small metal whistle hanging around her neck.
"My hero will come to save me as long as I call out," she murmured, her voice barely audible.
The words sounded so childish now.
Something only a narcissist with a savior complex would say.
Someone who thought the world needed him to play the hero.
She lifted the whistle to her lips, hesitated for a moment—then slowly lowered it again.
"…It seems I have no chance of winning this case."
Her voice trembled with self-mockery.
Would the one who answered her call really be a hero who saves her… or a judge who condemns her?
"...Are there any other flavors in milk cookies?" she whispered faintly, more to herself than anyone.
The true nature of the snow beneath the snow
the one whispering softly to her
selfremained unknown.
Meanwhile, elsewhere in the simulation, Narumi Toru was suffering in a way few could imagine.
Eating Yukino Yukinoshita's cooking was like hosting a chemical warfare experiment in his stomach.
To be precise, it felt like inviting bleach, laundry detergent, and stomach acid to an exclusive silver banquet.
An incredible chemical reaction was taking place inside him—one that defied both logic and biology.
And yet, as his stomach churned and his soul left his body, Narumi could only think one thing:
Thank God this is just a simulation.
If this had been reality, he would have been dead ten times over.
End of chapter: 10