Rewrite Our Love? Too Late
Chapter 157: A Presence Only He Could See

Chapter 157 - A Presence Only He Could See

On the train ride back, the silence between them wasn't uncomfortable—but Mitsuha couldn't stop the question burning in her mind. It had been dancing on the tip of her tongue since the moment they left Toyogasaki.

She finally gave in.

"...What is the relationship between Kato-san and Yukima-san?"

Mitsuha's voice was casual, but there was an unmistakable thread of curiosity woven through it. She turned slightly, her gaze scanning the profile of the girl seated beside her, hoping not to offend but unable to suppress her interest.

Kato Megumi, the girl in question, brought a finger to her cheek, pausing thoughtfully as the scenery blurred past the window.

"Hmm... probably lovers, I guess," she said after a beat.

That response, oddly tentative, struck Mitsuha as strange. Not the content—it wasn't surprising. But the phrasing.

"Probably?"

Mitsuha tilted her head. "That's strange. Aren't you two dating?"

To her, Kato Megumi was gentle, sweet, devoted to the point of quiet loyalty. If a girl like that gave her heart to someone—if someone like Yukima Azuma received that affection and failed to give her reassurance in return—then that was a mistake that bordered on criminal negligence. No, worse. It was a sin against heaven and earth.

Kato Megumi seemed to sense exactly what Mitsuha was thinking. A flicker of amusement softened her eyes, but rather than teasing, her voice remained calm as she spoke.

"Dating? The relationship between me and Azuma-san probably can't be defined that simply."

She tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear as she spoke, and Mitsuha noticed how much her hair had grown since spring. Back then, Megumi had a neatly trimmed bob that framed her face with quiet elegance. Now it had grown longer, just enough to occasionally fall forward in soft, graceful strands.

Then, Megumi glanced at her companion again, her lips curling slightly.

"By the way, Miyamizu-san... I scared you this morning, didn't I?" she asked gently, gesturing to herself.

Mitsuha's expression tightened. She gave a slight nod.

She had been startled.

Earlier that day, Kato Megumi had appeared by her side so silently, so seamlessly, that she hadn't noticed her presence at all until she spoke.

If Megumi hadn't initiated the conversation, Mitsuha might've gone the whole walk without realizing someone had joined her.

Kato Megumi let her gaze drop. Her voice was quiet now, nearly swallowed by the rattle of the train tracks.

"That's because... I have very little presence."

The words were simple, but they struck Mitsuha like a sudden gust of cold air.

She opened her mouth instinctively, ready to protest. How could someone like you have a low presence? she wanted to say. Megumi was gentle, kind, beautiful in a way that didn't demand attention but still invited warmth. To claim she had "very little presence" felt absurd.

But then...

As she thought back over their day walking through Toyogasaki together—she remembered moments where her mind drifted, where she glanced around and momentarily forgot Megumi was even walking beside her.

The protest caught in her throat. A chill trickled down her spine.

"...I've been like this since I was very young," Megumi continued, her tone light, almost clinical in its distance. "In class group activities, I was almost always alone. Sometimes even the teacher forgot to call my name during roll call. And after moving up to middle school, a lot of my elementary school classmates didn't even recognize me."

She said it as though it didn't bother her. But the very effort to sound unbothered made Mitsuha's chest ache.

For someone like her—who felt overwhelmed just by teasing from classmates now and then—it was hard to even imagine what it would be like to go completely unnoticed for years.

But then Kato Megumi's expression changed.

"...But Azuma-san was able to notice me."

The softness in her voice was no longer clinical. It was affectionate. Reverent.

Mitsuha's thoughts of comfort froze in her throat.

"Azuma-san transferred into my class in middle school," Megumi said, her eyes growing distant, reflective. "Everyone else had been with me for over two years... and yet, almost no one knew my name. But on the very first day he arrived, he came up to me and said, 'You're Kato Megumi, right?'"

She let the words hang in the air.

Mitsuha stared at her, wide-eyed.

"At first, I thought it was a coincidence. But that was only the beginning," Megumi continued. "From that day on, he never forgot me. Not once. He always paid attention to me... and not in a performative way, not like someone trying to flatter or impress. He just... saw me."

"He always said I had some kind of magic, but to me..." She smiled, gently, with a warmth so rich it could melt snow. "...to me, the real magician was Azuma-san."

The words were filled with such quiet devotion that Mitsuha found herself momentarily speechless.

Megumi rarely wore her heart on her sleeve. Her presence was like the air—unobtrusive, necessary, easily overlooked. But in that moment, her emotions overflowed, radiant and genuine.

She was looking down, so Mitsuha couldn't see her expression.

But she could feel the weight of her feelings.

That same morning, when Megumi had appeared beside her and Mitsuha was startled—what Megumi felt in that moment wasn't just awkwardness.

It was a hollow ache.

Her Azuma, the one who had always noticed her when no one else did—the one who called her scent tuberose, who locked eyes with her like she was the only person in the world—

Even if someone else had his face, his voice, his gestures—

She knew it wasn't him.

And her heart, once so full, was now empty in a way words could never express.

But even with that loneliness gnawing at her soul, Kato Megumi didn't say anything. She simply smiled, calmly, patiently.

Because she didn't want to cause trouble for her Azuma.

"...What happened next?" Mitsuha finally asked, her voice hushed. "What happened next!?"

Megumi blinked, pulling herself out of the past.

"I'll continue the story later. We're almost at the station," she said, her tone light once more.

The bullet train rolled into Shibuya Station.

They exited and made their way through the late afternoon haze, the sun casting long shadows on the pavement as they approached Yukima Azuma's apartment.

From a distance, the silhouette of the building came into view.

Suddenly, Mitsuha tensed.

"Oh no... What if that senpai inside the apartment finds out I'm not Yukima-san?" she asked, voice tight with concern. "How should I act to resemble him better? I want to avoid making things worse."

Megumi's response came with a helpless shake of the head.

"I don't think you'll be able to fool her. Kasumigaoka-senpai is very smart."

Mitsuha frowned. That couldn't be right.

Azuma had lived in her body for seven whole days and no one in Itomori suspected a thing. Her sister, her grandmother—not one of them even blinked.

And yet, the moment she tried it, everyone was pointing fingers?

Wasn't that a little unfair!?

Seeing her expression, Megumi chuckled softly.

"She's... perceptive. Normally, Azuma-san calls her 'Utaha-senpai' or just 'senpai.' They're very close. Holding hands, head pats... that kind of thing is pretty normal between them."

Mitsuha's jaw dropped.

"Kasumigaoka-senpai usually calls him 'Lonely-kun.' But if she suddenly starts calling him 'you' or 'him'—or if she starts tapping her foot a lot—it means she's mad."

Mitsuha's stomach sank. She really wasn't prepared for this level of complexity.

Before she could ask more, the apartment door swung open—from the inside.

Kasumigaoka Utaha stood in the entrance, arms folded.

Her wine-colored eyes locked onto them, and Mitsuha swore the temperature dropped several degrees.

It was mid-summer... but a cold shiver slid down her spine.

As they stepped inside, she barely had time to gather her thoughts when she heard a low voice say:

"You. Go stand over there. I have something to say to you."

Mitsuha flinched. That form of address—

She lowered her eyes. Her gaze caught on a pair of white slippers tapping against the wooden floor, each motion sharp and impatient.

Tsk. Tsk. Tsk.

Crap.

"...Senpai?" she asked carefully.

"Stop calling me that. I don't know you. Who are you?"

"Eh? Um... Yukima Azuma?"

"You. Are. Who!? Where is the real Yukima Azuma?"

Before Mitsuha could stammer a reply, she noticed something glinting.

Kasumigaoka Utaha had entered the kitchen and now emerged, gripping a kitchen knife.

Blade down. Still terrifying.

Megumi reacted instantly, wrapping her arms around Utaha's waist, restraining her gently but firmly.

Utaha's breathing was uneven.

Her rational mind told her that if something had really happened to Yukima Azuma, Megumi wouldn't be acting this calmly.

But the heart didn't always follow logic.

And at that moment, the heart was holding the knife.

Mitsuha's face went pale.

With shaking hands and a trembling voice, she explained everything—the body swap, Hogyokumaru, the comet.

By the time she was done, Utaha had placed the knife back on the counter.

But her expression didn't soften.

She didn't say anything. She simply turned and walked away—up the stairs, back to her room.

Even if she believed the story, even if she accepted the supernatural explanation—

That didn't mean she forgave it.

"...She's not actually mad at you," Megumi said after a long silence. "She's just upset and taking it out on someone."

Mitsuha nodded wearily. "I get it. Honestly, her reaction is... pretty reasonable. Kato-san, you're the one who's too nice."

Megumi didn't respond. She simply smiled, soft and unreadable.

She was gentle—but not because she felt less. In truth, she simply bore it more quietly.

"...I'm gonna go sleep," Mitsuha muttered. "Hopefully, I'll switch back soon."

She turned and slumped toward the guest room.

"At least eat something first," Megumi called after her, walking into the kitchen.

She opened the fridge, pulled out some ingredients, and quietly began preparing dinner.

Nighttime.

Mitsuha lay in bed, eyes closed.

Her body was tense, but exhaustion tugged at her thoughts. It had been a long, surreal day.

Beside her, Kato Megumi sat on the edge of the bed, saying nothing.

She didn't look at Mitsuha. Instead, she quietly picked up a light novel—Bunny Girl Senpai—and flipped it open, eyes scanning the pages with practiced ease.

Time passed.

After about half an hour, Mitsuha's breathing slowed.

She had fallen asleep.

Only then did Megumi close the book.

Only then did she raise her head—and fix her gaze on the sleeping girl.

She didn't blink.

She didn't look away.

The door opened without a creak.

Kasumigaoka Utaha stepped inside, dragging a chair to sit beside Megumi.

They said nothing.

But they stayed there—

Two girls, sitting side by side,

Keeping vigil in the quiet dark.

Watching over the girl who wore the face of the boy they both loved.

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