Rewrite Our Love? Too Late-Chapter 124: The Distance Between Heartbeats

Mrs. Kurokawa watched her daughter skillfully serve the young boy across the table, lips parting slightly as if to speak—but in the end, she said nothing. She had started to notice the subtle shift in Akane's behavior lately. The once relentless doting, the feeding games that bordered on inappropriate for their age—those had slowly faded.

Fortunately.

Because if that had continued, the atmosphere in the house during meals would've become ten times stranger than it already was.

"Thank you for the meal," Yukima Azuma said politely after finishing, his voice calm but resolute as he bowed slightly toward Mrs. Kurokawa.

Akane quietly took his plate and walked it into the kitchen. Her mother moved quickly, about to insist that she would handle the dishes, but Yukima Azuma subtly raised a hand and gently stopped her.

He waited until Akane was out of the room, the sound of water running in the sink muffling her presence in the kitchen.

Then he spoke.

"Mrs. Kurokawa, I'd like you to consider letting Akane transfer to a new management company."

The words dropped like a stone in still water. The older woman froze, her hands folding tightly in her lap. Silence passed between them like an uneasy breeze.

Though Akane was still underage, every entertainment contract required a guardian's signature. But truthfully, Mrs. Kurokawa had never fully grasped the complexities of the entertainment industry. She had always let Akane make her own decisions. That blind trust had cost them dearly—especially after discovering her daughter's suicidal ideation only after the fact.

In the wake of that, resentment toward the current management company had grown in her heart. But even so, she still didn't know how to navigate the world her daughter worked in. What if she made another mistake?

"...Let Akane decide," she finally said, voice low, defeated yet trusting.

Yukima Azuma nodded.

That was enough.

He hadn't lowered his voice when speaking just now. The girl in the kitchen had definitely heard everything.

"I'll persuade her," he said with certainty.

That was all he needed—no rejection from the guardian. The rest was up to him.

After lunch, Akane and Azuma returned to the vacation house. The sky overhead had turned a dull gray, thick with clouds that threatened another downpour. But this wasn't a storm in full swing anymore—it was the calm that came at the very end.

Like a pebble tossed into a pond. Ripples lapped outward, slowed, and faded.

Akane remained quiet as they walked.

Yukima Azuma, meanwhile, made a phone call.

He gave Laplace Corporation specific instructions—paperwork, negotiations, all of it.

By 3 p.m., a document arrived at the house.

Laplace had already contacted Akane's current agency. A deal had been struck: Laplace would pay the penalty for breach of contract. All Akane had to do was sign—and her ties to the past would be severed.

Azuma placed the document gently in front of her.

But even now—after everything—she hesitated.

"This won't affect your manager," Azuma began softly, intuitively addressing her unspoken concerns. "Actually, she'll be handling more profitable clients and even receiving a pay raise. It's all written in the secondary clauses of our contract."

He didn't mince words. He cut right to the core, giving her nothing to deflect with.

"Why... do we have to do this?" Akane asked at last, not looking up. Her voice trembled—confused, uncertain, afraid to hope.

Azuma leaned forward, gaze fixed on her.

"Because once the storm passes," he said, "your agency will bury you in work. And if that happens, your guardian won't have time to take care of me anymore. Right?"

The words carried a deliberate arrogance. Sharp. Designed to provoke.

It worked.

Akane looked up, eyes widening slightly—and without another word, she picked up the pen and signed.

Even if this signature could shatter her career.

Even if she risked everything.

She chose him.

The house settled back into its usual rhythm. freewebnσvel.cѳm

Azuma edited manuscripts at the desk while Akane sat beside him, reading a light novel—The Metronome in Love.

During short breaks, she'd get up to wash fruit for them to share. They'd talk casually about novels, voice acting, and nothing in particular.

For dinner, they had pork bone ramen.

As night fell, Azuma nestled against her shoulder, his head resting in the curve of her neck. For once, there was no scent of blood clinging to her—only a soft fragrance, the gentle scent of a high school girl in spring.

And with that warmth, Azuma drifted into sleep.

The next morning, as sunlight spilled across the wooden floor, Akane woke up early as usual, intending to make breakfast. But as she moved to sit up, Azuma—already awake—pulled her back down.

"Eh?" she blinked, confused. "What are you doing?"

He didn't answer right away. Instead, he stared out the window.

From where they lay, he could see only sky—bright, cloudless, endless. Sunlight streamed through the glass, catching on the edge of their slippers on the floor. A crow flew overhead, its black silhouette darting past.

"There are a lot of crows in Tokyo," he said idly.

Akane followed his gaze. The sky was beautiful, vast, filled with light.

But her chest tightened.

Even with skies so calm, she felt more secure in the dark clouds and heavy rain that had passed before. Those turbulent days had put time on pause, wrapped her in silence. This—this calm—felt more uncertain.

"The storm's over," she said softly.

Azuma turned toward her.

"I'm heading out for a while."

"Running away from home?" she teased.

"It's work. And a little travel."

"Pretending to work and travel, when you're actually running away from home?"

She pressed her forehead to his, their breaths brushing between them.

"Be good. Don't be rebellious."

Azuma would have scoffed before, detached and focused only on curing Adolescence Syndrome.

But not anymore.

After reading every diary in that hidden box... after seeing her entire life unfold, year by year, joy and grief woven together—he could no longer keep his distance.

Her image had solidified in his heart—real, alive, breathtaking.

"Children need things to do," he whispered. "Friends. Purpose. That's what makes you healthy, right?"

He blinked, his eyelashes brushing against her skin.

Akane tilted her head slightly, a ticklish smile rising.

"Don't think about anything dark, okay?"

"If you just fill my heart a bit more," he said, voice light but tinged with sincerity, "I won't have room to think about anything else."

"What should I do, then?" she asked, not hesitating.

"...Give me a kiss?"

He meant it half-jokingly.

But Akane didn't pause. She leaned down and closed the gap in an instant.

That innocent kiss was clumsy, shy.

But he returned it with experience.

And she, quick to learn, fell into step with him—breath after breath, heartbeat to heartbeat.

When they finally separated, she was panting.

"Is this... okay?"

"You're leaving soon. You should fill up this space first," Azuma said, tapping his chest.

She nodded.

And kissed him again.

By noon, they stood by the doorway.

"You never told me your name," she suddenly realized.

Azuma smiled. "And here I thought you were my guardian."

She lowered her head shyly.

"Yukima Azuma," he said at last. "Like 'snow falling from the east.'"

"And I'm..."

"Kurokawa Akane," he interrupted gently. "I already know, foolish guardian."

"...Just call me Akane."

Azuma blinked, surprised.

"...Alright then. Goodbye, Akane-san."

"Come back safe."

She watched him go, waving until he disappeared around the corner.

And then she just stood there.

Because in his absence, the silence felt wrong. Empty.

He had become the center of her thoughts, her worries, her daily rhythm.

She glanced toward the road. Once, she had dreamed of escape. Now, that dream was a distant memory.

When he appeared, he brought her fear of death back—not as a torment, but as a reason to live.

Because now, if she were gone, who would take care of him?

That alone was enough reason to keep going.

Later that afternoon, someone from Laplace Corporation came to the Kurokawa house.

They offered her a role—filming a promotional MV, voice acting for a film.

Akane almost declined.

But the staff member added one more sentence:

"President Yukima Azuma personally requested you."

Akane froze.

Then, silently, she nodded.

And once again stepped forward—not for herself, but to help him fulfill his dream.

For now, that was enough.