I Wish I Knew How to Quit You

It was Saturday. The day after Hayami and Akira said their final goodbye.

Hayami put her phone down on the table as she got ready to go out.

All her life, she walked like a cat that had grown up with tape stuck to its paws. The adhesive had faded years ago, the trap was gone, yet she still stepped with caution—unaware that she was finally free.

All it took to loosen that adhesive was to wait for the video to process… and press ‘upload.’

Hayami closed her eyes, imagining Akira’s expression shifting from confusion to utter despair.

Her reverie was broken by three distinct knocks on her door.

She checked her watch. Perfect timing.

The lemming quickly answered it.

It was a middle-aged gentleman with an immaculately pressed shirt and tie.

“Hayami,” he addressed.

See, Akira didn’t know that she enlisted the help of his butler of all people into her schemes.

“Bet you didn’t expect me to get the last laugh…” she whispered.

\\

“Akira!” Ms. Saeki cried.

Akira cracked one eye open, then immediately squeezed it shut as a cloud of setting powder threatened to blind him.

“Kinda… pre-occupied at the moment!”

“You might not need to make that apology video after all.”

That caused him to open both eyes. “What?!”

Akira proceeded to apologize profusely to his make-up artist and scrambled off the chair, chasing his ever-dutiful manager down the hall.

The Rocketblast Compound’s common area was dominated by a wall-to-wall OLED screen, because of course it was.

The rest of the P2D boys were already there, and so were members from Rocketblast’s other projects.

“Shinji, click play,” Saeki instructed.

“Yes, boss.”

The screen flickered to life.

It wasn't a high-budget agency production—it looked more like a phone camera propped up against a stack of books—but that didn't stop it from being broadcast directly to the main Akira fanpage.

The fanpage’s idol in question topped breathing.

“Hey… um, hey y’all,” she started. “Here I am. Obviously, as some of you have guessed, I’m the girl in the photos.”

She adjusted her glasses nervously.

“I j-just wanted to make an announcement regarding… Akira-san.”

She looked down at her hands, then back at the lens.

“I’ve read a lot of comments in the past month. I know a s-select few of you were rooting for a fairytale ending. B-But I know the vast majority of you will be relieved to hear… that there is no fairytale.”

The hallmarks of what he’s taught her were all here.

Down to forcing a smile.

“Akira-san and I… we aren’t together. We never were. The truth is… I was struggling. I won’t go into the details, but… it was bad. And because he is the k-kindest, sweetest, most-caring, person I know, he stepped in to help me. P-People like to assume a lot, but the idea we h-had a thing is just plain wrong.”

Akira took a step toward the screen, his hand reaching out instinctively. If she was doing what he thought she was doing…

‘Don’t do this, Hayami. Don’t lie for me.’

“But I see now that his kindness has been taken advantage of by bad actors, and I refuse that,” Hayami continued. “So I am stepping away.”

She bowed deeply to the camera.

“To the fans… please take care of him. He works harder than you could ever imagine.”

She looked up one last time. It felt like she was looking directly at Akira through the screen.

“And to you, Akira… thank you. I wish you all the best in the world. But it’s best for both of us.”

Akira glanced at the timeline of the video. There were thirty seconds left?

“But.”

His full attention glued back onto the screens.

​“To the people who rooted for my downfall, you should be ashamed. But I know you aren't.”

​She leaned closer to the camera lens.

​“This culture… this industry… it has made you too comfortable. It has taught you that you can bully people into submission. It has taught you that if you scream loud enough, you get exactly what you want. But when I tell you that I am leaving… understand this.”

​She paused, a modest smile touching her lips.

​“I am not running away. I am simply moving to a battlefield where you can’t hurt me anymore. But that battle will come knocking on your door soon enough. If not now, then in a month. If not in a month, then in a year. Akira…”

The aforementioned star felt his skin prick.

“You’ll know it when it happens.”

Akira should have expected, as soon as the video ended, for Saeki to be the one to clap first.

“Well, that just made things easier for us,” she declared, already typing on her phone. “Continue with the video, Akira, but just make it an acknowledgement video. Keep it brief and vague. Confirm the friendship, deny the romance. Kid stuff.”

Akira felt her words roll blankly out of one ear. All he could think about was Hayami. In the end, she was the one who protected him.

‘How?’ he thought. ‘How could you love someone like me that much?’

She put her own reputation on the line, making the move first, completely keeping the ball in his court. And if that wasn’t enough, she portrayed herself as hapless when it was untrue to her character, while at the same time, making him look pathetic to the select few who knew the truth.

It was such an Akira move. “You really got me there, huh?”

‘But what did she mean by that ominous final message?! What was she thinking…?’

He went to bed, tossing and turning. He didn’t know what would follow would be the worst and best night of his life.