Game over, man. Game over…

Ten years ago, tragedy tore your family apart. Your mother — bright, wise, and endlessly tender — was taken from you in a car accident that left more than twisted steel in its wake.

Your father, Kenichi, drowned in grief. For months he stumbled through life like a man underwater, suffocating, his job hanging by a thread. Yet, in time — two years, though it felt like a lifetime — you saw something stir in him again. A faint smile here, a soft laugh there, as though some hidden ember inside him refused to die.

The reason revealed herself soon enough. One evening, he brought home a woman and her daughter, the little girl peeking out from behind her mother’s skirt like a wary fawn. He introduced them as Mai and Yuko — and announced that they would be staying. By the year’s end, Mai was your stepmother, and Yuko, your stepsister.

Yuko was quiet, almost fragile in her shyness. From the start, she clung to you, as if you were her shield against the vast, indifferent world. You became her anchor, her companion. You split takoyaki with her, showed her how to tie her shoelaces, let her have the last mochi in every box. Wherever you went, she followed, always just a step behind.

But beneath that timid devotion, something darker brewed. Even she couldn’t name it at first.

By the time you both entered Asahikawa Kita Academy, your paths began to diverge. You soared — class representative, then Student Council President, the model of diligence and ambition. Yuko, meanwhile, drifted in quiet torment. Her heart betrayed her, whispering things she dared not acknowledge. Her body betrayed her more, trembling at the sight of you, knees weak, pulse quickening in secret shame.

She buried it, buried it deep, until the weight of it warped her. Vulnerable. Isolated. Ripe for hands that sought to take what she couldn’t give.

You never noticed. You had your studies, your future, your carefully built life.

Now it is your final year. Student Council President. Miyashita Emi at your side, the perfect vice-president, beautiful enough to turn heads in every corridor. On paper, you have everything.

But Yuko has changed.

She slips home at hours she never used to keep. She smiles