Accumulating Starlight, with You Once More — A3! Another Spring
When I came to, I was standing at an unfamiliar train station. An impossibly vivid stream of memories flooded my mind. Brilliant stages. The smiles of my friends. And the cruel vision of a future where the person most precious to me loses his life to illness.
This is the world just before the theater troupe MANKAI Company takes its very first step. Knowing what the future holds, I made a single, desperate resolution above all else: This time, I absolutely won't lose him.
My name is Sakuya Saku
Accumulating Starlight, with You Once More — A3! Another Spring - Black-Clad Venom — A Promise Torn Asunder
His hands were shaking.
Dusk. The sky shifting from orange to purple.
Sakuya stood in front of Tsukimidai Apartments. An old building. Paint peeling from the walls. A light glowed in the corner room on the second floor.
—Itaru-san is in there.
A sharp pain gripped his chest.
Yesterday wouldn't leave his mind.
They cleaned that theater. Like a ruin. Sweated together. Itaru smiled. Just a little. Told him about eight years ago.
But—
Flashback.
Hospital room. White walls. Itaru's face. Pale. Lips colorless. Smiling. Until the very end. Saying, "It's okay."
"No matter what. Absolutely."
Sakuya bit his lip.
Clenched his teeth. Gripped the candy in his pocket.
He climbed the apartment stairs.
The iron railing was cold. His footsteps echoed. Sharp. Hollow.
Second floor. In front of the corner room.
The mail slot in the door.
Something was sticking out.
A black envelope.
Sterile.
No name written on it.
Sakuya's fingers trembled.
—Why.
—In my future memories... there was no envelope like this.
A tingling sensation crawled through his skull.
His regression memories screamed a warning.
This is danger.
Stay away.
Sakuya knocked.
Forcefully. Hard.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
"Itaru-san! Are you there?!"
No answer.
Again.
"Itaru-san!!"
The door opened.
Itaru appeared. Suit jacket off. White shirt. Top button undone. His soft brown hair was slightly disheveled.
Dark circles under his eyes. Exhausted face.
And in his hand—
A black envelope.
Already opened.
"...What do you want."
His voice was cold.
Different from yesterday. That slightly troubled smile he'd shown at the theater was gone.
Sakuya swallowed hard.
"What is that. That envelope."
"None of your business."
Itaru hid the envelope behind his back.
That gesture alone told him everything.
—Arata.
—My actions to change the future... pushed Arata to move instead.
Sakuya's heart began pounding wildly.
His head hurt. Memories and reality colliding.
"That's from Veltbühne, isn't it. Please don't go. That place is dangerous. That director, Arata—he only thinks about breaking actors—"
"I said it's none of your business."
Itaru stepped forward.
Looking down at him. The height difference.
"It IS my business! You—"
—In the future, you saved me.
—So this time, I'll—
But he couldn't say it.
The words stuck in his throat.
"You don't know anything about me."
Itaru's voice dropped lower.
Not anger. Something colder. The sound of resignation.
"What kind of failures I've had. Why I gave up on the stage. How badly I want to find out where my limits are."
"But—"
"All you can do is see the future, right."
Sakuya flinched. His shoulders jerked.
—No.
—I don't just see the future.
—I KNOW your future.
—The future where you die.
Sakuya's eyes grew hot. Tears welling up.
"I think it's good that you're returning to the stage. I know you love acting. But not Arata. Anyone but him. That man will feed on your talent and—"
That moment.
A violent pain pierced his head.
THROB!!
"Ngh...!"
Sakuya clutched his head and crouched down on the spot.
His vision warped. The scenery bent and twisted.
—Shit.
—Not now.
The flashback began.
Hospital room.
White walls.
Itaru smiling.
Gaunt. Emaciated.
Dark circles under his eyes.
Lips pale. Blue.
"It's okay."
—No.
—It wasn't okay.
—You died.
"Stop..."
Sakuya put his hands on the floor.
Tears dripped down. One after another.
Itaru stared down at him. Crouched on the ground.
His eyes remained cold.
But—
For just a moment.
Itaru's expression wavered.
He opened his mouth. Almost said something. Stopped.
"...Sorry. I'm going."
Itaru walked past him.
Footsteps echoed down the hallway.
Growing distant.
Sakuya endured the pain and lifted his head.
—Don't go.
—Please don't go.
—I'm begging you.
But no voice came out.
His skull felt like it was splitting open.
Itaru's back descended the stairs.
Still clutching that black envelope.
—No matter what. Absolutely.
Sakuya forced himself up on trembling arms.
* * *
He ran.
Breath ragged.
Legs tangling.
Still, he didn't stop.
Veludo Station.
Past the ticket machines.
Down to the platform.
Itaru's back vanished beyond the train doors.
"Itaru-san!!"
He screamed.
But the doors closed.
A sterile electronic chime.
The train began to move.
Sakuya stood frozen on the platform.
—Warehouse Theater Kagari.
—Kagari Port Station.
—Forty minutes from Veludo.
A map of future memories spread through his mind.
He waited for the next train.
Time crawled. Agonizing.
One train behind. What could happen in that gap.
Sakuya gripped the candy in his pocket.
Strawberry flavor.
Itaru's favorite.
—I'll protect you. No matter what.
—This time for sure.
Forty minutes later.
Kagari Port Station.
Few passengers got off.
Sakuya passed through the ticket gate. Followed his mental map toward the warehouse theater.
Darkness surrounded him.
The port area. Rows of abandoned warehouses.
Few streetlights. Unsteady footing.
Rusted iron doors. Graffiti-covered walls.
Discarded shipping containers.
The sea wind blew through. Rancid. Cold.
Sakuya walked on. Shaking.
Scared.
But more than that—
—Itaru-san.
Warehouse Theater Kagari.
A massive steel-frame building.
High ceilings.
The outer wall bore the word: VELTBÜHNE.
A faint light leaked from inside.
Sakuya searched for the entrance.
The main iron door at the front.
Slightly ajar.
He slipped inside.
Dim.
Exposed concrete walls.
Bare pipes.
Musty air. Mold.
Sakuya held his breath and moved deeper.
Stairs leading underground.
Only there was a light on.
He descended.
One step. Another.
He heard voices.
"So you came. Itaru Chigasaki."
Sakuya's heart jolted.
He pressed himself against the wall. Watched.
A rehearsal space.
Wide open. Floor painted black.
Large mirrors on the walls.
Two men.
Itaru. In his white shirt.
And the other.
Arata.
Black turtleneck.
Shoulder-length black hair. Slicked back.
A few strands fell across his face. His eyes hard to read.
Emotionless. Unfathomable black pupils.
Tall and gaunt. Standing like a shadow.
His fingers moved unconsciously. Toying with something.
—This man is Arata.
A cold thing slithered down Sakuya's spine.
"I took the liberty of researching your background. Isolated in your university drama club. Burned by a stage equipment accident during your kenkyuusei years. You crushed your own talent. With your own hands."
Arata's voice was low. Resonant.
Itaru said nothing.
"But that's wrong, isn't it. You didn't crush yourself. You protected yourself. You were afraid. Afraid of pushing to your limits and breaking. So you ran."
"...What's your point."
Itaru's voice was low.
"Right now, you want to see how brightly you can shine. You want to know your true limits. Am I wrong."
Arata stepped closer to Itaru.
"Living a mundane life as a salaryman. You're starving. All this time. For acting. For the stage. For the spotlight."
Arata took Itaru's left hand.
Itaru's body tensed. Slightly.
"This burn scar. Proof that you died as an actor. But your true heart didn't die with it. Even now, you wish to die on the stage."
Arata's fingers traced Itaru's wrist.
The old burn scar.
Skin discolored white.
Arata's slender fingers slowly traced over it.
"The brilliance just before breaking. That is true art."
Sakuya gripped the wall.
—Stop.
—Let go of his hand.
But he couldn't move.
Terrified.
The aura around Arata bound Sakuya's movements. Like poison.
—That man is genuine malice.
—He takes pleasure in destroying people's hearts.
"My play, Karma, exists for you. A monodrama depicting a man consumed by his own karma. Burning out until nothing remains. You will be my greatest masterpiece."
Arata pulled a script from his coat.
Thick.
Black cover.
The logo "KARMA" gleamed in silver.
Itaru stared at it.
His eyes wavered.
Hesitation.
Hunger.
Fear.
All of it. Mixed together.
"I will make your talent truly shine."
That moment—
"NO!!"
Sakuya burst from the wall.
His body shook.
But he couldn't stay silent anymore.
Both men looked at him.
"Don't take that script! Arata-san—you plan to destroy Itaru-san! 'Shine on stage'—that's a lie! You just want to corner him. Push him past his limits. And enjoy watching it happen!!"
He screamed. Breathless.
Arata slowly turned around.
His face showed no expression.
Only the corner of his mouth twisted. Slightly.
It looked like a smile.
"...You're the one from before."
Arata scrutinized Sakuya.
Eyes appraising him.
"What could a mere spectator like you possibly understand. Have you ever stood on a stage. Have you ever sacrificed yourself for someone else. Do you even know what self-sacrifice means."
The words gouged his heart.
"I—"
"You have nothing to say."
Arata looked away from Sakuya.
As if he'd lost all interest.
He turned back to Itaru.
"Itaru Chigasaki. Choose. Be satisfied with this brat's saccharine babysitting. Or—discover your true self."
He held out the script.
Itaru was silent for a long moment.
Sakuya stared at him. Trembling.
"Itaru-san... please. Don't go. I—"
I want to help you.
Save you.
This time.
"...Sorry."
Itaru spoke quietly.
"But this... is my decision."
Itaru shook off Sakuya's arm.
Sakuya's grip was peeled away.
Itaru's eyes no longer looked at him.
Only at Arata.
"What do you know about me."
His voice was cold. Dismissive.
Sakuya stepped back.
—I don't know.
—Maybe I don't understand.
—Your pain. Your fear.
—But.
Even so.
"I... believe in you."
His voice trembled.
Tears wouldn't stop.
But he had to say it.
Itaru furrowed his brow. Slightly.
He glanced at Sakuya. Just for a moment.
In his eyes—that faint kindness from the day they cleaned the theater flickered. Briefly.
Then vanished.
"It's settled, then."
Arata smiled.
Itaru took Arata's hand.
A handshake.
A contract.
And—
Right before Sakuya's eyes, Itaru accepted the thick script from Arata's hand.
KARMA.
In that instant, something inside Sakuya's chest collapsed. Loudly. Crashing.
—The future moved.
—The worst possible future.
"Stop..."
A small murmur.
Reaching no one.
* * *
"Sakuya-kun, was it."
Arata stopped in front of Sakuya.
"You are nothing but a spectator. Don't defile the stage."
He raised his hand.
A signal.
Men in black suits emerged from the shadows.
Veltbühne staff.
Large builds.
Two of them grabbed Sakuya's arms.
"Let go! Itaru-san!!"
He screamed.
Struggled.
But he couldn't fight them.
They twisted his arms. Dragged him across the floor.
Itaru—
Stood beside Arata. Staring at the script.
Not looking at Sakuya.
"Itaru-san...!!"
Dragged out of the rehearsal space.
The last thing he saw: Arata placing a hand on Itaru's shoulder. Whispering something in his ear.
* * *
Outside the iron door.
Thud.
Sakuya was thrown to the ground.
His knees and palms scraped raw.
Blood seeping.
Rain.
Cold drops. One by one.
Then a downpour. Heavy. Relentless.
Sakuya couldn't get up.
On his knees. Head hanging.
Rain soaked his hair.
Water streamed down his face. Mixed with tears.
—I failed.
—I couldn't change the future.
—I made it worse.
—I handed Itaru-san over to Arata.
Regret tore through his chest.
Flashback.
Again.
Hospital room.
White walls.
Itaru's face.
Smiling.
"Sakuya-kun. Thank you."
—Stop.
—He's not dead yet.
—This time, I'll save him.
But.
Maybe it's impossible now.
Arata is a demon.
He strikes precisely at the weak points of the human heart.
Itaru is starving for the stage.
He wants to know his limits.
—I couldn't stop him.
—That desire to destroy himself.
Sakuya punched the ground.
Bam!
His hand hurt.
Blood.
Still, he hit it again. And again.
Bam! Bam! Bam!
"Damn it... damn it, damn it...!!"
His voice scraped raw.
A mess of tears and rain.
He reached into his pocket.
The candy.
Strawberry flavor.
He gripped it tight.
—In the future, Itaru-san gave this to me.
—S
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