Into the Apex

Unveiling Truths

The days felt long and endless, but they passed by in a blur of hospital corridors, medical jargon, and anxious waiting. Alya had long since lost track of time. A month had passed since the crash at Eau Rouge, and Masachika still lay unconscious in his hospital bed, his body battered and bruised, his mind lost in a deep, uncertain slumber. A new scar—a jagged slash that ran vertically from his right cheek down his neck to his collarbone—was a stark and haunting reminder of the severity of the crash. The doctors had explained that the scar had been caused by a large piece of carbon fiber that had embedded itself in his cheek and neck during the impact. It was nothing short of a miracle that he hadn't died from blood loss, as the shard had somehow avoided severing any vital structures in his neck.

Alya had stayed by his side every day, refusing to leave even for a moment, her heart tethered to his by the faintest thread of hope.

She was barely 18, and so was Masachika, but the situation had forced their lives into a space far beyond their years. Alya's maturity had grown tenfold in the weeks following the crash. The gravity of the situation had aged her in ways she couldn't quite explain. Masachika had always been the one to protect her, to sweep her into his embrace with his unwavering confidence. But now, it was her turn to be the one waiting for a miracle. The tables had turned, and she was the one who had to be strong.

One late afternoon, as the hospital room dimmed with the setting sun, the door to the room opened quietly. Alya had been sitting by Masachika's side, her fingers wrapped gently around his, the soft beeping of the machines the only sound in the room. She glanced up, expecting another nurse or a familiar face, but this time, it was someone she didn't recognize. A young woman, tall and slender, with jet-black hair tied into a neat bun, stood hesitantly in the doorway.

She looked to be in her early twenties, maybe a bit older than Alya, but there was something in her eyes—a kind of familiar sorrow, a shared understanding of pain—that made Alya's heart skip a beat. She was a stranger, but Alya felt an odd sense of recognition.

The woman stepped forward slowly, glancing at Masachika's still form before turning her attention to Alya.

"You must be Alya," the woman said softly, her voice carrying a quiet warmth. "I'm Sumiko. I'm Masachika's sister."

Alya blinked, the words sinking in slowly. Masachika had a sister? She had never heard him mention her before. It was strange, almost surreal, to hear that word spoken in connection with him. She felt a sudden swell of emotion—somewhere between surprise and confusion.

"His sister?" Alya asked, her voice barely a whisper as she stood, her gaze never leaving the woman. "I didn't know he had a sister. He never mentioned you."

Sumiko smiled gently, a small, melancholic smile. "He doesn't talk much about his family, but I knew something was wrong when I saw the crash on the news. I rushed here as soon as I could." She stepped closer, her eyes softening as they landed on Masachika. "I'm glad to see you're here with him."

Alya nodded, her throat tightening. "I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."

Sumiko's gaze drifted to Masachika's face, and her brow furrowed as her eyes traced the scar running down his cheek and neck. "That scar... What happened to him?" she asked, her voice quiet but laced with a deep concern.

Alya hesitated for a moment, glancing at Masachika before answering. "It was a piece of carbon fiber from his car," she said softly. "It hit him during the crash. The doctors said it was a miracle it didn't hit anything vital. He lost so much blood... but somehow, he survived."

Sumiko's expression grew somber as she studied the scar. "It's terrible," she murmured, her voice trembling slightly. "But knowing him, he'd wear it like a badge of honor. He's always been that way—surviving the impossible."

The two women shared a brief silence, both looking at Masachika, both feeling the weight of the moment. For a long while, neither spoke. It was as if the room itself held its breath, suspended in the heavy stillness that surrounded them. Alya's mind raced. Masachika had a sister. What was she like? What was she thinking? The questions bubbled up, but she couldn't quite bring herself to ask them.

Sumiko seemed to sense her hesitation and finally spoke again, her voice calm and steady.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to intrude. I just... I wanted to meet you. I've heard a lot about you from Masachika."

Alya blinked, startled. "From him? About me?"

Sumiko's smile grew, though it was tinged with sadness. "Yes. He told me about you once, a long time ago. He's very private about his personal life, but when he talked about you... there was something in his voice. I could tell that you meant a lot to him."

Alya's heart fluttered at the thought. She had always known that Masachika cared for her—his actions, his devotion, his love had spoken volumes—but to hear it confirmed by someone who knew him intimately was overwhelming. A soft blush crept up her cheeks, and she quickly lowered her gaze, feeling a mixture of warmth and vulnerability.

Sumiko noticed the change in Alya's expression and gently continued, her voice softer now. "He never showed it in the typical ways. He wasn't one to say much, but his eyes always spoke volumes when he was with you. I could tell you were everything to him."

Alya swallowed the lump in her throat, trying to maintain her composure. "I care about him too," she said, her voice trembling with emotion. "I don't know how to explain it. It's just... I've always felt like I belonged with him. Like we were meant to be together."

Sumiko studied her for a moment, and Alya couldn't quite place the expression on her face. It wasn't judgment or pity. It was something else—something more introspective, as if Sumiko were seeing a side of Alya that she hadn't expected to.

The conversation flowed, shifting between memories of Masachika and the faint thread of hope that they both clung to. Sumiko stayed for a while longer before finally leaving, her words a quiet reassurance that Alya wasn't alone. And as Alya returned to her place by Masachika's side, her fingers brushing the scar on his cheek, she whispered softly, "Please, come back to me."