The Cosmode "Queens of Winter" issue hits the stands with the force of a cultural phenomenon. It sells out in most stores within hours. It is, as the editor predicted, a work of art.
Our entire group, including Aiwa, is gathered at my apartment for a "study session," an idea Rina reluctantly proposed as a way to keep a closer eye on her new rival. For Aiwa, it is a momentous, terrifying occasion. As she steps over the threshold, her cheeks are flushed a delicate pink. This is the first time she has ever been inside a boy's home. Her eyes dart around, taking in the controlled chaos of our living room- the stack of manga on the coffee table, the game controllers, the stray piece of shimmering fabric peeking out from under a cushion. It feels so… lived-in. So different from her own sterile, quiet apartment. It makes me feel more real, and that is a terrifying and exhilarating thought for her.
Kenji, naturally, has bought five copies of the magazine. The feature is magnificent. Rina's section as Ectiqa and Haruka's as Hime-Hime are both stunning. Then we get to LUNA's section.
The photos are, in a word, divine. Aiwa, who is sitting a little too close to me on the sofa for my own comfort, has to pretend to be seeing them for the first time. "Wow," she whispers, her performance of a surprised fan absolutely flawless. "She is… amazing."
But I am not looking at the photos. I am looking at the interview text. My eyes scan the professional, sterile answers until they land on the final biographical note:
"LUNA… admits that her passion for bringing fantasy to life stems from a deep, childhood love for classic magical girl stories and a promise made long ago that continues to motivate her artistic journey."
A promise made long ago.
The words hit me like a physical blow. The memory, which has been blurry and indistinct, suddenly sharpens into perfect, crystal-clear focus. The park. The crying girl with the cheap purple wig. The plastic pendant. Her tearful marriage proposal. My own childish, heroic words.
It is real. It all happened. That little girl was her. And I was that little boy.
I am so lost in the tidal wave of this recovered memory that I do not notice that the room has gone quiet. Everyone is staring at me.
"Onii-chan?" Rina asks, her voice sharp with suspicion. "You have been staring at that page for five minutes. What is so interesting?"
"Nothing!" I say, quickly flipping the page, my heart hammering in my chest. "Just… the font choice! It is very… legible."
Rina and Haruka exchange a look. My terrible lie is a confession in itself.
But before they can begin their interrogation, my eyes meet Aiwa's from across the room. She has been watching my strange reaction, a look of polite curiosity on her face. Seeing that I am looking at her, she offers a small, sweet, and completely clueless smile. She has no idea of the mental gymnastics I am performing. She has no idea that the "promise" in her own interview is the very thing that has just shattered my world.
Her innocent smile, however, is all the confirmation Rina and Haruka need. To them, it is a secret, intimate communication.
"Rui," Rina says, her voice quiet but carrying a weight that makes everyone else in the room go silent. "What was that look? What are you two hiding from me?"
Before I can answer, Aiwa, in a genuine attempt to diffuse the sudden, terrifying tension, speaks up. "Hinamata-kun was just looking at my- I mean, LUNA's interview," she says, her voice full of a helpful innocence. "Which part were you reading so intently, Hinamata-kun?"
I am trapped. I point a trembling finger at the page. "Just… that part," I mumble. "About the… the childhood promise."
Rina and Haruka both lean in to read the line. They look at it, then back at me, then at Aiwa. It means nothing to them. It is just a vague, romantic-sounding phrase in a magazine. But my intense reaction to it has planted a new, dangerous seed of suspicion in their minds.
Aiwa just looks at me, a thoughtful, puzzled expression on her face. Why was he so interested in that specific line? She files the question away, a small, intriguing mystery about the kind, observant boy from her class. She has no idea that the answer to her question is the key to her own forgotten past.