Rewrite Our Love? Too Late
Chapter 173: The Girl in the Bunny Suit and the Flame That Would Not Die

Chapter 173: The Girl in the Bunny Suit and the Flame That Would Not Die

From where they sat—near the back and just slightly off-center—they had the perfect vantage point.

Not only could they enjoy the film in full scope, but they could clearly observe the audience’s expressions as the story unfolded. It was almost like attending a live performance, where the stage was the screen, and the crowd became part of the emotional symphony.

(づ>/////<)づ♡

She had never worn such a revealing or bold outfit in her life.

A Bunny Girl costume.

Just imagining how she looked in it made her ears burn with embarrassment. But as the opening scene unfolded, and she saw herself stride confidently across the screen, a strange realization washed over her—

It didn’t look bad. In fact...

Would he like it?

Would Yukima Azuma like this version of her—bolder, freer, unafraid to be seen?

"I love it!"

Yukima Azuma had replied earlier with a grin and a finger-gun pose.

"Seriously. Looks fantastic on you." ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧

It had made her heart race.

Still, the way he said it was strange—half playful, half distant, like his thoughts were elsewhere.

"After all, the illustrations were done by Eromanga-sensei."

Right. The infamous reclusive artist had contributed to the movie’s character designs. She wasn’t a hikikomori anymore, apparently. But Yukima Azuma had no idea how to pull her back into the professional world.

Even so, he didn’t seem stressed.

He never did.

Once he made a decision, he simply flowed with it. Whether it led to failure or a miracle, he believed that something meaningful would emerge along the way.

Perhaps this too—this movie—was fate.

The film opened with a girl in a Bunny suit walking through a school library.

A dazzling, absurd image—surreal yet grounded in melancholy.

No one noticed her.

The library buzzed with conversations, whispers, laughter... but no one saw her.

The girl—ignored by the world, remembered only by the protagonist, who stared in disbelief—became a symbol.

The concept of "Adolescence Syndrome" was introduced—an affliction that turned emotional trauma into supernatural phenomena.

The audience, many unfamiliar with the original light novel, leaned forward. Interest flickered in every gaze. Phones were silenced. Breaths quieted.

And as the mystery deepened—

The theater fell into silence.

The investigation unfolded gradually.

The protagonist sifted through layers of information—blogs, forum posts, manipulated video clips, toxic comment threads.

Sensationalist headlines.

Baseless accusations.

Defamation in disguise.

And then... nothing.

Because of the Syndrome’s power, her digital footprint vanished.

Yet paradoxically, the absence of data gave the memory more weight. Her silence echoed louder than the noise.

He was the only one who remembered her now.

In the audience, people shifted uncomfortably.

The parallels to real life were striking.

One girl, forgotten.

Not by fate, but by neglect. By convenience. By cruelty.

Then came the pivotal scene.

The male protagonist, sleep-deprived and emotionally fraying, stared at the cup of coffee the Bunny Girl had made for him.

She had quietly dropped a sleeping pill into it.

If he drank it, he would fall asleep—and forget her completely.

The camera lingered on his trembling hand, then cut to her somber eyes.

"Don’t..." a soft voice murmured in the theater.

"Don’t tell me he’s really going to forget her!"

Someone sniffled. Another gasped quietly.

Then... silence.

As the protagonist dozed off, a montage played—memories of the girl before her "disappearance."

A young girl named Kurokawa Akane, obsessed with acting. Burning with passion.

Staying late at rehearsal studios.

Copying advice into a notebook until her fingers cramped.

Practicing tear-stained monologues long after midnight.

Scenes of tireless effort. Of unyielding will.

Of a fire that refused to die, even when ignored.

The audience—many of whom had been willing participants in online smear campaigns—suddenly remembered.

Or rather... realized.

Realized the gravity of what had happened to Kurokawa Akane.

Realized how easily truth is buried under outrage.

As the male lead forgot her completely...

The theater filled with the sound of muffled sobs.

Irony painted the scene: only when she disappeared did people finally see her.

Kurokawa Akane watched silently from her seat.

To her, this wasn’t overwhelming.

She had lived it.

Everything depicted was real. She had poured herself into her art, suffered, cried, struggled—and endured.

She didn’t think it was anything special.

But next to her—

MEM was sobbing uncontrollably, cheeks stained with tears, hugging a crumpled napkin like a lifeline.

"UWU... Akane-chwaan... hic...hic!" (╥﹏╥)

Akane quietly pulled a tissue from her coat pocket and handed it over.

Which only made MEM cry harder.

The film ended, just as the light novel had:

The male lead rushing forward, reaching out to the falling Bunny Girl Senpai.

The frame froze.

Did he catch her hand?

The screen faded to black.

The credits rolled.

The lights came on.

But no one stood up.

Audience members clutched their phones, desperate for closure.

They logged onto forums.

Clicked on review sites.

And then...

They saw it.

The truth.

Articles, trending posts, and exposés—finally highlighting the truth about the smear campaign against Kurokawa Akane.

For the first time, people read her side.

They saw the clarification video, the one MEM had posted weeks ago, now pinned to official channels.

The flame war that nearly ended her career—and her life—was laid bare.

Those same people, who once doubted or dismissed her, now read through the suicide note she had once drafted.

They saw the mocking comments still sitting beneath it.

And they wept.

The hand that caught Bunny Girl Senpai wasn’t the protagonist’s.

It was their own.

That was the point of the film’s ending.

The decision to save someone didn’t lie in one person—it lay in everyone.

If society didn’t change, even if the hand caught her this time...

Who would catch her the next time?

Or the time after that?

Eventually, there would be no one left to reach for.

Outside the theater.

MEM wiped her eyes with the last of the tissues, phone glowing in her hands.

She had just refreshed the comments again.

The smear posts?

Deleted, debunked, destroyed.

Akane’s name now trended for all the right reasons.

"That’s really great, Akane-chan!" MEM said, voice hoarse but joyful.

"Mm." Akane nodded faintly. "It really is."

But she wasn’t looking at the phone.

Her eyes were fixed on Yukima Azuma, who stood slightly ahead, the streetlight haloing his silhouette.

And in that moment, she understood.

Yukima Azuma was not the kind of person who would seek death.

He had something inside him—some unwavering, almost arrogant core—that refused to break.

She was an actor.

She could read people.

And on that rainy day when she thought he was suicidal?

That had been an act.

A brilliant, manipulative, necessary performance—staged for her sake.

He had saved her with the one thing she understood best.

Acting.

And she had fallen for it completely.

Akane pouted slightly. She couldn’t believe she had been outplayed in her own domain.

But she wasn’t angry.

On the contrary...

She was moved.

"That boy... he’s lonely, isn’t he?" she whispered to herself.

Because even if that moment was fake...

The loneliness she’d felt from him—wasn’t.

Something had changed him.

Someone.

She suddenly recalled a quote by Haruki Murakami:

"A man’s maturity happens in an instant, and it is almost always because of a woman."

It stung a little.

Because Akane knew...

The woman who changed Yukima Azuma wasn’t her.

But that didn’t mean she would give up.

"It feels like... Akane-chan is on fire," MEM whispered to Sumi Yuki.

"Umu," Sumi said, nodding solemnly. "Very much so."

Epilogue: The Industry RespondsThe reality show LoveforReal, once derailed by scandal and storm, was now back in full swing.

Thanks to the Bunny Girl Senpai movie, public interest exploded.

But so did criticism.

The show’s shady editing, manipulative cuts, and silence during the flame war were now heavily scrutinized.

The backlash was real.

But so were the ratings.

The producers weighed the two—and chose profit.

At long last, they let MEM post the clarification video on the official channel.

Not because they cared about the truth.

But because it looked good.

Because it sold.

The show’s director—a brash twenty-something creative wunderkind—watched the analytics with a smirk.

Then, that very day, Yukima Azuma visited the set.

The young director jumped at the chance.

"Yukima-san! We’d love for you to appear as a guest!"

The offer was rejected before it was finished.

Not surprising.

Still, the director didn’t miss a beat.

"By the way, Yukima-san, I heard you’re also... a professional shogi player?"

Yukima raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

"That’s right. Though not many people know it."

The director forced a smile.

Of course not.

How could anyone imagine that a light novel author, internet recluse, and now film scriptwriter was also a shogi prodigy?

It sounded insane.

Like two different people in the same skin.

But maybe that was the point.

Maybe Yukima Azuma was someone who defied roles.

Who wrote his own story.

And who had just helped rewrite someone else’s.