Rewrite Our Love? Too Late-Chapter 117: A Storm Named Akane

The sky churned with storm clouds, casting a gray pall over the city. Wind lashed against the windows, and fat raindrops began their steady assault on the streets. But inside Yukima's mansion, the world remained strangely still. Sheltered from the chaos outside, the interior was quiet, warm, peaceful—untouched, save for one thing.

The usual morning sunlight that filtered into the house had been snuffed out by the storm.

In the living room, Kasumigaoka Utaha sat comfortably, holding her phone between her ear and shoulder, her voice low and affectionate as she chatted with the person on the other end.

At her feet, a curious scene unfolded: two balls of fur—one snow-white and the other a vivid, fiery red—were tangled together on the floor, purring, licking, playing.

"How's it going? Are they getting along?" came Yukima Azuma's voice, fuzzy with the wind and rain in the background.

Utaha's lips curled into a mischievous smile. "Surprisingly, yes. They're grooming each other like old lovers. Honestly, they kind of remind me of you, Lonely-kun."

Yukima chuckled lightly. "Utaha-senpai, clearly, I'm not the only one who enjoys licking."

"Mmm... I never said I didn't." Her voice carried a teasing lilt.

"Oof. That sounded kinda ecchi~."

She laughed softly and reached down, brushing Shiratamaru's hind leg. "I wonder when these two will have kittens. Think they'll be bright red? Pure white? Or a nice swirl of both?"

There was a moment of pause on the line.

"Senpai," Yukima said slowly, "if I remember correctly... Shiratamaru is a female, right?"

Utaha blinked and tilted her head. "Wait... really? I always thought—"

Still holding the phone, she gently lifted Shiratamaru's hind leg to check.

"...Oh. Looks like you're right. Huh. That complicates things."

She lowered the leg, ruffling Shiratamaru's fur with a sheepish chuckle. "Guess I'll need to adjust Hogyokumaru's backstory a little in the novel."

"Let's leave it to the cats," Yukima replied with a sigh. "As their humans, we shouldn't interfere too much."

Utaha's laughter echoed softly, warm and light. The red and white cats continued their slow, intimate grooming session. In feline behavior, grooming was a mark of kinship... and dominance. Despite being an artificial magical creature, Hogyokumaru seemed perfectly content beneath Shiratamaru's gentle paw. A surprising display of submission.

Suddenly, Yukima's voice shifted in tone.

"Ah... it's raining."

Utaha rose and walked toward the window. The glass trembled with the force of the wind. Rain pounded in sheets against the street below, whipping the trees and scattering loose leaves into a wild, chaotic dance.

"Want me to come pick you up?" she asked gently.

"Nah. The wind's too strong. Umbrellas are useless in weather like this. Just stay home and wait for me."

True enough—cheap umbrellas would snap instantly in this gale. Even high-end ones wouldn't do much against the sideways rain.

Utaha stood quietly at the window, watching the storm unfold.

"Take care, okay? I don't want to become a widow just yet."

Yukima chuckled at the dark humor, his voice reassuring. "I'll be fine, senpai. After the storm clears, we can still catch the comet in Hokkaido—"

"I heard Hokkaido's mostly spared from the rainy season. Should be good stargazing weather."

"By the way... do you have a swimsuit prepared, or should we buy one there—"

His voice suddenly cut out.

Utaha frowned. "Lonely-kun?"

"...I just saw a patient. A bit of a special case. I want to check on them. I might be late."

"If you need help, just say the word. Got it?"

"Heh. Got it. I just hope you won't find me annoying when the time comes."

Their call ended.

A few minutes earlier—

On the other side of town, Yukima Azuma had just finished a visit to Laplace Corporation. The company was finally pushing forward the mass production of their smart home products. If everything went smoothly after the storm, the national sales campaign would begin.

Now, Yukima walked home beneath the darkened skies.

The wind tore through the streets, deserted except for scattered leaves and broken branches. Japan, an island nation surrounded by ocean, often found itself in the path of typhoons. Today was one of those days.

A few cold droplets splattered across his cheek.

He tilted his face upward. "Ah... it's starting to rain."

The wind howled harder. freёwebnoѵel.com

As he made his way across an overpass—just a narrow bridge connecting two sides of the street—he passed by a lone figure.

Suddenly, a sticky sensation bloomed across his face.

He instinctively wiped it away with a finger, then paused when he saw red.

Blood.

Despite the pouring rain, the metallic scent reached him unmistakably.

He turned.

The person he'd passed stood motionless at the edge of the railing, her hood blown off by the wind.

Short black hair. Pale, beautiful face.

Recognition hit him.

Kurokawa Akane.

A rising star. An actress he had seen on a dating show with the girls not long ago.

She wasn't looking up at the sky or waiting out the storm.

She was gripping the railing tightly, staring down at the road below with hollow eyes.

Even through the haze of rain, Yukima saw it clearly—bruises on her arms. Fresh scratches bleeding across her cheek.

No one stood near her.

And yet, it looked as if she had been attacked.

Adolescence Syndrome.

The term surfaced in Yukima's mind. A phenomenon from his own novel, The Youth of a Lonely Boy Will Not Dream of a Passerby Heroine. Emotional trauma manifesting in supernatural ways.

And now, it was playing out in reality.

His first instinct was to walk away—after all, his rule had always been to act only on personal desire. If a stranger died in front of him, it wasn't his responsibility.

But something kept him rooted in place.

Not a stranger. A name. A face.

She mattered.

He watched her climb over the railing.

One step away from a fall that would almost certainly end in death.

No.

In a split-second decision, Yukima dashed forward, rain slamming against his skin, and threw his arms around her waist—pulling her back with everything he had.

The two of them collapsed onto the overpass.

She landed on top of him. He absorbed the impact.

Her eyes widened, and then—she snapped.

"No! No! Let me go!" she screamed, thrashing violently like a cornered animal.

Her hands scratched, her nails digging into his skin, drawing blood.

Then—

Drip.

Warm blood fell onto her cheek, not from the rain, but from above.

It stilled her.

She looked up and saw Yukima shielding her with his body, one arm raised protectively. Blood flowed from a deep scratch along his arm, where her nails had raked through skin.

Realization hit her like lightning.

"...I... I—I'm sorry! I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"

She scrambled to kneel, bowing her head repeatedly. Her voice cracked, her throat hoarse.

"I'm sorry! I truly apologize!"

And then she wept, not because she was saved—

But because someone had been hurt saving her.

And for the first time in days, perhaps weeks...

She felt something again.