Reincarnated as the Protagonist of a Legendary Depressing Eroge – I Paired Up My Two Childhood Friend Heroines to Avoid the Bad End, But Their Possessiveness Completely Broke Through the Limits

Episode 10: Confrontation / Winter

The rain that had been falling nonstop finally moved on, as if it had washed everything away from above our heads.

Yoru’s back as she cried against my chest felt surprisingly small and fragile.

When I thought about the weight she had been carrying, even the way her fingertips clutched my shirt looked heartbreakingly sweet and sad.

“…It’s okay now, Yoru.”

I kept whispering the words softly right by her ear.

Her sobs gradually grew quieter, turning into shaky little breaths every now and then.

The resolve she had built—cursing her own blood and trying to erase herself as a substitute for her mother—had really been a scream begging someone to tell her she didn’t have to do it.

“…Kei-kun. What… what am I supposed to do…? There’s money, and Mom’s job… I have to do something about it all…!”

Yoru lifted her face.

Her face was a mess from rain and tears, and the cool mask she used to wear was completely gone. In its place was the raw, painful wish of one living girl.

“First, let’s warm up… We’ll both catch a cold if we stay like this.”

I gently took her hand again.

This time she didn’t try to pull it away.

We headed for the infirmary tucked in the corner of the school building.

The sun had already set, and the whole building was sinking into deep indigo.

But warm orange light spilled from the infirmary window, gently lighting up the wet asphalt.

When I knocked on the infirmary door, a gentle voice answered from inside, “Come in.”

Opening the door, we found Tae-sensei standing there.

She looked surprised for just a second at our soaked, drowned-rat appearance, then smiled as if she understood everything.

“Oh dear… Looks like things got pretty rough. Come on in.”

She quickly handed us dry towels.

Yoru sank deep into a pipe chair, pulled the towel over her head, and stayed perfectly still.

Soon there was a soft click as the kettle boiled, and the sweet smell of cocoa filled the room.

Yoru held the mug Tae-sensei brought over with both hands, cradling it.

The heat slowly turned her fingertips a soft pink.

“…It’s warm.”

As the warmth reached her fingers, Yoru began to speak in a trembling voice, little by little sharing things she had never told anyone.

About her birth, the hell her mother was living through, and the mistake she had almost made by trying to take her place.

Tae-sensei listened to it all without interrupting, quietly and with the steady eyes of a professional.

“Yoru, thank you for telling me. It’s going to be okay. That responsibility isn’t yours to carry.”

She sat down beside Yoru and gently pulled the girl’s thin shoulders close.

“Yoru, the money and living situation you’re worried about—there are proper systems in the adult world to handle those things. There are places where your mom can rest, and programs so the two of you can live safely together.”

There was a rock-solid confidence in Tae-sensei’s words that Yoru had never heard from any adult before.

“Starting tomorrow, I’ll work with specialized support groups and the city office. Let’s give your mom a real chance to rest her heart and body… From today, you can just go back to being a regular middle school girl. Saving your mom is our job now. All right?”

“…Teacher… Is that really true…? Can I… laugh with Mom again…?”

“Yes, I promise. So please stop trying to throw yourself away. You’re a girl who deserves to be cherished.”

Another big tear rolled down from Yoru’s eyes.

But this time it didn’t look like tears of despair. It looked like the frozen part of her heart had finally started to melt after being touched by an adult’s kindness.

“Yoru.”

I looked at her side profile and said,

“I’ll help too, so both you and your mom can head toward happiness. We’ll fight together.”

Yoru stared at her mug and gave a small, quiet nod.

Outside the window, the rain had completely stopped without us noticing.

A winter moon peeked through a break in the clouds, quietly lighting the schoolyard in pale blue.

Our fight had only just begun.

There would probably be many walls standing in our way from now on.

But right now, the warmth of her body beside me as she drank cocoa felt like the most certain strength I had.

“All right, once you finish drinking, let’s head home. I’ll talk to your mom too. I’ll walk with you to the house, so don’t worry.”

At Tae-sensei’s reassuring words, we both stood up at the same time.

As we left the infirmary, Yoru lightly pinched the sleeve of my uniform with her fingertips.

“…Kei-kun… Thank you.”

Those weren’t words of farewell as a curse anymore. They were a promise for tomorrow.

I started walking slowly beside her.

The hand I held felt so warm that I never wanted to let go again.

—

Episode 11: Peace / Winter

The winter morning air bit sharply into the skin.

Six in the morning.

The promised time.

In the silence that still wrapped the whole town in sleep, I—Keiji Kageyama—stood with Taeko in front of the rusty door of the old apartment where Yoru lived.

Every step up the stairs made the iron groan.

The hallway carried the smell of damp concrete and the sour stink of lived-in life.

The sky, which had cleared as if last night’s rain had been a lie, poured in cold, merciless white sunlight that cruelly highlighted every crack in the building.

“…Wait here.”

Yoru, who had been waiting in front of the door, said to us.

Her face had gone completely still, as if the tears from last night had never happened. But the tips of her fingers were trembling—small, but nonstop.

Taeko said nothing. She just gave a deep, strong nod.

Just standing next to her somehow eased the freezing tension and made it feel like there was still an escape route somewhere.

“It’s okay, Yoru. …We’re not going anywhere.”

When I spoke, Yoru gave a tiny smile—the same one she always wore.

Then she reached for the heavy iron door of her own home.

A dry metallic click rang out, and the door opened.

What leaked out was stagnant air.

Cigarette smoke, and… the smell of a room that hadn’t had its windows opened for days—the rotten scent of bottled-up silence.

Yoru’s thin back was swallowed into that darkness.

The door closed, and Taeko and I were left behind in the hallway.

I leaned my back against the concrete wall.

From the other side of the thin wall, I could hear Yoru’s footsteps.

They were steady, heading toward the living room—without hesitation, yet heavy.

“…Mom.”

Yoru’s voice came through.

Even through the door, I could tell it was shaking.

“Oh… Yoru. You’re early. …You could have stayed in bed a little longer.”

The reply was a hoarse, lifeless woman’s voice. It was Saya.

Had she just finished her night shift, or had she stayed up all night without sleeping at all?

Her voice carried the empty feeling that only someone worn out by life has—like sand mixed into it.

“Mom… I have something to talk about. …I want to see your face when I say it.”

“…What is it? So formal. …If it’s about money, don’t worry. …I’ll manage this month too. You just go to school.”

“That’s not it. It’s not about money. …It’s about you, Mom.”

Yoru’s voice slowly started to heat up.

In the hallway, my fist had tightened without me even realizing it.

Taeko gently placed her hand on my shoulder.

The silent message of “Trust her and wait” eased my restlessness just a little.

“Mom. I… found out. …Those papers that were hidden in the back. …Why you’ve been suffering so much. Whose child I really am.”

For a moment, silence fell as if time had stopped.

I thought I heard Saya gasp on the other side of the wall.

“…Ah… ah… ah…”

What slipped from Saya’s mouth wasn’t words.

It was a hoarse groan, like a beast with its throat ripped open.

The “hell” she had hidden for years, for decades, had just been uncovered by the hand of the daughter she loved most and had tried hardest to keep away from it.

“…Yoru. …That’s not it. Those were… I…”

“Mom, stop hurting yourself. Let’s end this—shaking alone in the dark.”

Yoru’s words cut sharply, yet endlessly gently, into Saya’s heart.

“Until last night, I hated myself so much. I thought the dirty blood that had broken you was flowing in me, and just being alive was torture for you… That’s what I believed. So I seriously thought that if I took all the mud instead, you could finally be free.”

“…Yoru. What are you…”

“But I was wrong. …Me throwing myself away would be the same as me throwing everything you fought for to protect me straight into the trash.”

Yoru’s voice choked with tears.

From beyond the door came the sound of her collapsing to the floor.

“You know… I’m really glad I was born as your daughter, Mom. Even after all those awful things, you never once abandoned me. You didn’t kill me while I was still in your belly. Because you held me tight even in the middle of despair, I’m standing here right now.”

“…Ah…”

“Thank you, Mom. …Thank you for giving birth to me. I’m happy to be your daughter.”

Those words rang through the frozen apartment room.

It was the moment when the daughter herself accepted the curse called “birth” that had denied her mother’s entire life, and turned it into a blessing.

Right after, a violent sob broke through the wall.

Saya’s cry, like a dam finally bursting.

It was a soul-deep scream mixing motherly guilt, a woman’s regret, and relief all at once.

“…I’m sorry, Yoru. For not being able to give you a comfortable life. Kids can’t choose their parents, so I’ve always felt so sorry toward you.”

“It’s okay, Mom. Even if we’re not rich, as long as I can laugh together with you, that’s enough for me.”

“Yoru… thank you for being born… really… thank you…”

Their crying voices mixed together.

They weren’t sad tears. It sounded like ice melting at last, turning into warm flowing water.

The white morning sunlight in the hallway had stretched all the way to my feet.

Next to me, Taeko quietly wiped the corners of her eyes.

At the edge of a hellish night, one girl had saved her mother, and the mother had saved her daughter.

I gently placed my hand on the cold iron door.