Chapter 40: A Tale Without a Cover

Chapter 40: A Tale Without a Cover

✿———✦———✿

“I love you... even if I have to endure thousands of these bitter winters.”

Sometimes in life, there are things I have written in the margins of my soul, yet not all of them are meant to be read—especially the story titled Minato Kazuaki.

For twelve years, I have been the keeper of a prologue that refuses to end. It began on the freezing Christmas Eve of 2020, a night where the air tasted like iron and the Kobe illumination blurred into a sea of cold fire. I was only seven years old, small and easily swallowed by the crowd. I remember the paralyzing terror of losing my parents’ hands and the cruel laughter of the older boys who cornered me in a dark alleyway of the festival. I felt like a tragic character in a story I never asked to be in, waiting for a rescue that felt a world away.

And then, he appeared. Kazuaki.

Even then, he possessed a calm, almost detached aura that made the world stand still. He didn't need to shout; he simply stepped between me and the cold, a silent shield that forced the shadows to retreat. He found my parents and, before I could even find the breath to say “thank you,” he had vanished back into the winter mist. That night became the secret foundation of my life. I became a reader of a story that hadn't even begun to be told, anchored to a hero who didn't even know my name.

The second volume of our meeting opened at Kobe State University. I was a freshman, and he was a third-year. From a safe distance, I watched him, witnessing his life like a reader obsessed with a lead character. He was talented beyond measure—a developer, a mangaka, a ghost in the machine of the campus. I read the manga panels he drew over and over, feeling that if I stared at the lines long enough, I might understand the heart of the person who drew them.

I remember sitting in the campus lab once, staring at one of his posters until the ink seemed to vibrate. Hattori Kiriha, my senpai who knew more about my heart than I did, leaned over my shoulder with that knowing smirk.

“Kiriha-senpai, I feel like I’m reading a book I can’t close,” I whispered, my voice barely audible over the hum of the computers.

Kiriha smiled, shaking her head slowly while looking at me with an expression full of teasing. “Yuki-chan, you’re more like a secret fan. Like a character who loves the main lead from a distance.”

“What’s wrong with that? Sometimes being a reader feels safer,” I replied, suppressing a laugh. Kiriha was right; I was an observer who never got involved, just admiring Kazuaki from the safety of the bleachers.

Valentine’s Day 2027 was the most memorable chapter of that era. Kazuaki was in his final year, and I was desperate to reach him before he vanished from the campus halls. I had sent him anonymous chocolates the year before, and I heard he was curious about the sender—mostly because it was the only gift he received. To make sure my feelings reached him this time, I asked Kiriha for help.

Originally, Kiriha only pretended to get close to Kazuaki’s circle to assist me, but over time, she found her own rhythm with Mitsuki, Kazuaki’s closest friend. Eventually, they actually started dating. The two of them became a separate, vibrant page in my larger, quieter story. Yet, despite her new ties, Kiriha never leaked my secret. She kept her promise to protect my unexpressed feelings, even from Mitsuki.

“I never leaked it, did I?” Kiriha reminded me one day, ruffling my hair with a mischievous smile. “Your secret is safe, Yuki-chan.”

“You’re the best senpai,” I had said then, feeling a profound sense of relief. But even with her help, I felt like I was holding a book I didn't dare open; I could only read the cover without ever knowing the contents.

✿———✦———✿

That same feeling of being an outsider haunted me now. The low, rhythmic thrum of the studio equipment usually grounded me, but today, my hands weren't on my bass strings. I was sitting on my amplifier, my bass leaning uselessly against my leg, while I was buried in the pages of a thick novel. I was searching for answers in fiction because reality felt too heavy to carry.

“Yuki-chan! We’re in the middle of a bridge section, and you’re still stuck in that world!” Genki chirped, her drumsticks clicking together with an impatient rhythm. To me, Genki was the “Friend of Light”—the sun to my moon, always dragging me toward the center when I wanted to retreat into the shadows of the backline.

“The melody feels lonely when the heart isn't there, Yuki-senpai,” Michaella added softly from the microphone. Our seventeen-year-old vocalist was like a girl from a fairy tale, and I felt a surge of guilt for leaving her to lead the harmony alone.

“Focus,” a sharp, commanding voice cut through the room. Ageha, our leader, stood tall. To me, she was a warrior—the “Star” that guided us. “Yuki, if the bass is silent, Evenfall is just noise.”

I went to set the book down, but before I could, the soundproof door swung open with a violent, mocking clack.

Standing there was Kiriha. But she wasn't the helpful senpai from my memories today. She was the leader of Whirlwind, our rival, and she looked like she was hunting for sport.

“Still reading about heroes because you’re too scared to be one, Yuki-chan?” Kiriha laughed, her eyes sliding past Ageha to lock onto my trembling hands.

Ageha stepped forward, her eyes flashing with a protective fire. “Kiriha. Whirlwind’s practice room is at the other end of the hall. You’re trespassing.”

“I’m just visiting an old pupil,” Kiriha said, leaning against the doorframe. She looked at me, her gaze piercing through my defense. “I see you’re still holding that book instead of your bass, Yuki. Are you still waiting for a prince to flip the page for you? Or are you still just a ‘reader’ who’s too afraid to join the cast?”

“Leave her alone, Kiriha-senpai!” Genki snapped, but Kiriha’s smile only widened.

Kiriha looked at me and tilted her head, her voice dropping into a tone that only I could truly understand the weight of. “Remember what I asked you once, Yuki? 'If you seriously like him, why not try to get closer?' and you just shook your head.”

The memory hit me like a physical blow. I had told her then, “Sometimes, it’s easier to be a loyal reader, Kiriha-senpai. I’m afraid to open the page that might change everything.”

Kiriha laughed now, the same sharp, melodic sound from years ago. “Hayashi Yukifuyu, you really are a strange character in your own story.”

Ageha’s hand tightened on her keytar. “Get out, Kiriha. Now. Before I make you.”

Kiriha winked at me, a silent reminder of the red thread she held—the secret of 2020 and 2027. “Don’t stay in the library too long, Yuki. Real life doesn't have a back cover to hide behind when things get messy.”

When she finally left, the silence was suffocating. I looked at the novel in my hands—the one I had read a hundred times—and then at my bass. Kazuaki wasn't an easy character to approach. Despite his friends, he often seemed alone, drowned in his own world. I had become a secret reader who never entered the pages, a silent spectator from afar.

Sometimes, I thought of classic stories where the lead is loved by a side character who never speaks. But looking at my bandmates, I realized this wasn't a fairy tale.

“Yuki,” Ageha said, her voice now soft. “Put the book away. We need our heart back.”

I set the novel down on the floor, far from my reach. I picked up my bass, the wood feeling cool and solid against my chest. Kiriha was right about one thing—I had spent twelve years being a "loyal reader," too afraid of a bad ending to ever start the first chapter.

But as Genki’s drums crashed and Mitan’s voice soared, I realized that Evenfall wasn't just a band. It was my real life. Ageha was the star, Rui was the silent shadow at the decks, Mitan was the voice of my dreams, and Genki was the light. And I? I was the heart that held them together.

Kazuaki was a story that had never finished. Every step he took was a new sentence I wanted to remember. I didn't want to ruin the story by rushing it, but I couldn't stay in the margins forever.

Perhaps there are people who are happier being just a small part of someone else’s story. And I, Hayashi Yukifuyu, might never be more than that to Minato Kazuaki. But at least I have this—a story I wrote myself, about a girl who fell in love with a book she never read to the end.

But today, as I struck the first chord, I decided that even side characters deserve to have their music heard. I closed my eyes, leaving the silent safety of the margins behind, and for the first time, I played as if I were the protagonist of my own life.