Side Story: I Was Having a Nightmare

After parting ways with Haruto that day, I went straight home and collapsed onto my bed.

My unsettling room, wrapped in pink wallpaper, greeted me like always.

For the past six months, I’ve been shutting myself in here the moment I get home.

I just don’t want to talk to my family.

Hoshiko, that idiot, still barges in like nothing’s wrong…

Mom says things like, “Is this a rebellious phase?”

But it’s not that.

It’s something darker.

Something I can’t explain.

No—even if I could, no one would understand.

I know that too well. That’s why I act like this.

“Haruto… I had no idea he had someone like that in his life.”

I didn’t know.

He’s the only one who still calls me by my first name—Yōta.

And even he has a family. People he’s close to.

People more important to him than me.

Grind.

Without realizing it, I clenched my teeth.

Maybe this is jealousy.

But I don’t know—am I jealous of Haruto, who acts cold but still seems connected to his family?

Or of that guy, Kongō, who showed up with something that clearly mattered?

I don’t know.

But I can’t stop this restless churn in my chest. Something thick and ugly is pressing against my throat.

Disgusted with myself, I let my consciousness slip away.

---

December 25th.

I woke up—probably in my own bed.

I say “probably” because parts of the room felt off. The layout had changed.

The pink-dominated decor made me think, for a second, that I was in Hoshiko’s room.

“I’m… alive?”

I definitely took a direct hit…

Trying to remember sent a sharp pain through my skull.

…I remember shielding someone. Someone really important.

But who? My thoughts were foggy, slipping away before I could catch them.

Anyway, I tried to sit up—then noticed something was wrong.

“Nngh—”

Since when was my voice this high?

Even for a high school boy, I had a higher voice, but my boy soprano days were long gone. My voice had already changed.

Yet right now, it was unmistakably soprano.

Like… when I was Luna.

Maybe—though it never happened before—I passed out while still transformed?

Thinking that, I looked at my palm—and froze.

It was tanned. A deep, golden brown.

…Huh?

I’m Japanese.

My dad, my mom—both pure Japanese.

But this skin… wasn’t.

Not just my hands—my entire body looked distinctly not Japanese.

I mean, sure, I might tan in the summer, but this?

It’s December.

No way I’d get this dark in winter.

I grabbed a strand of hair and pulled it forward—silver.

That made me sigh in relief.

Maybe I am still transformed.

Thinking that, I muttered:

“Release.”

The command to undo the transformation.

—Nothing happened.

“Release! Release!”

I chanted it like a prayer, over and over. But nothing changed.

Normally, I’d feel my magic dissolve, like mist drifting into the air. But even that sensation was gone.

“…Big sis?”

Hearing my voice, Hoshiko must’ve noticed I was awake.

The door creaked open, and she appeared.

“Hoshiko? It’s me, Yōta! I know I look different, but—!”

She’s never seen me as Luna before.

If she thinks I’m an intruder, I’m dead—so I try to explain as fast as I can.

But Hoshiko just tilts her head, confused.

“Luna… sis? What are you talking about? Who’s Youta?”

“Luna…? And sis…?”

“Big sis, I heard you got caught in that attack while you were out with Minami-san… I was so worried! Haruto-san saved you after you passed out, right?”

She completely ignored my muttering.

“Anyway, I’ll go get Mom and the others!”

And with that, she dashed out of the room.

---

The sound of hurried footsteps echoed up the stairs before Dad and Mom burst into the room.

“Luna!”

Without hesitation, Mom rushed over and hugged me—calling a name that wasn’t mine. I pushed her away, gently but firmly, and shouted:

“Mom! Dad! It’s me, Youta! Don’t you recognize your own son?!”

“What are you talking about, Luna? You’re our daughter.”

“No, I’m not! You said you named me Youta because you wanted me to grow up bright like the sun!”

I pleaded with them, again and again—but no one listened.

“She must’ve been caught in a powerful explosion… No physical injuries, but maybe she hit her head?”

“Ah… So her memories are all jumbled.”

Dad gave a calm, reasonable explanation, and Hoshiko nodded along like it made perfect sense.

“No, I’m—”

I froze. My eyes had landed on a framed photo on the desk, and my breath caught.

It was from an old family trip to the amusement park—back when Hoshiko was still too little to walk on her own.

But in that photo… I wasn’t there.

Instead, there was a silver-haired girl.

“This…”

“That’s you when you were little…? Wait, you don’t remember?”

“The album… Show me the photo album!”

A terrible suspicion gripped me, and I asked for it frantically.

“O-Okay… Here.”

Mom quickly pulled it off the shelf. A record of our family’s memories.

But in every single photo—I was gone.

The girl wore a white dress, matching Hoshiko’s, smiling shyly.

She was perched on Dad’s shoulders, laughing wildly.

She was blowing out birthday candles with Minami.

But it wasn’t me.

Every trace of me had been rewritten—replaced by a girl I’d only come to know this past year.

While I stood there, frozen in disbelief—

“I thought… I thought we’d lost you…”

Mom hugged me again, tightly, as if trying to confirm Luna’s warmth with her own hands.

All I could do was stand there, numb, my mind blank with shock.

“Ah… Thank goodness Luna’s safe…”

But Mom.

That’s not me.

I’m Youta.

“I’m so glad Luna’s alive.”

Dad’s voice trembled with emotion.

No.

I’m the one who’s alive.

Not Luna.

The sheer cruelty of it battered my chest, and my vision blurred with tears.

Mom and Dad must’ve thought I was crying out of relief—grateful to be alive.

—Wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong.

My screams stayed locked inside, unheard by anyone.

In the end, I must’ve cried myself to sleep.

---

Even when I woke up, I was no longer myself—I was a girl named Luna.

When I looked in the mirror, the face staring back was unmistakably hers—like someone had applied an alternate color palette to a fighting game character.

But not a single person in my family seemed to realize I was the magical girl from the rumors.

Still, I clung to one desperate hope.

Maybe this strange phenomenon was limited to just my family.

If that was the case… if I stayed strong, maybe someone out there would remember me.

I decided to call Yoshihiro first.

He was my childhood friend—we’d grown up playing together.

There was no way he’d forget me.

…That was just wishful thinking.

After a few rings, a familiar voice answered.

“H-Hey, Yoshihiro? It’s me, Youta.”

“Uh… L-Luna-san?! Wh-Why are you calling me?!”

“You’re joking… right?”

“N-No, I mean, Luna-san is like… my idol, so…”

—In the end, after a few awkward, meaningless exchanges, I hung up.

Next, I tried Minami.

She reacted similarly—though since she’d heard about the incident, she was mostly just worried about Luna.

The unfairness of it all made me click my tongue in frustration.

I kept calling.

Classmates. Old friends from elementary and middle school. Teachers who’d once looked out for me.

Every answer was the same.

At some point, the tears wouldn’t stop, and my voice broke with every word.

“Hello? Luna?”

The moment I heard that, I hung up.

Rude? Probably. But I didn’t care anymore.

Finally, I reached the last name in my contacts.

The newest friend I’d made—first as Luna.

—Kurosaki Haruto.

But by then, my heart was already drowning in despair.

Calling him was just a formality.

Maybe, deep down, I wanted to break completely.

To let that dark, suffocating emotion inside finally swallow me whole.

Yōta doesn’t exist anymore.

I’m just a girl named Luna—someone I’ve never even met.

This call was just the final confirmation.

The ringtone played.

Like the sound of a guillotine being raised.

Then—

“…Youta?”

The voice on the other end was the one I’d wanted to hear the most.

---

After that, Haruto explained everything.

How Luna had saved the world.

How the boy named Yōta had effectively vanished.

And how a girl named Luna had been born in his place.

Haruto was worried about me—about the Seed of Darkness I’d absorbed.

Apparently, it could mess with your mind in horrible ways.

But that wasn’t what hurt the most.

It was the world itself refusing to recognize me.

Every gentle “Luna” felt like a death sentence.

Every warm smile aimed at her felt like mockery.

Every loving embrace meant for her felt like hands tightening around my throat.

—In the end, my heart didn’t last a week.

I died.

And she was born.