The sun hung low in the sky, its light filtering weakly through the hospital window. Pale, gray streaks of sunlight crept across the floor, casting long shadows that seemed to stretch forever.
Asahi lay still—so still that it seemed the world itself was afraid to touch him. His right eye, half-open, stared blankly at the ceiling. His chest rose and fell with the help of machines, each breath more hollow than the last.
Beside him, Anari sat in silence.
Her hands were clasped tightly together in her lap, fingers intertwined, knuckles white. She hadn't moved for hours—just sitting, watching, waiting. Her eyes were dull, glassy, reflecting only the stillness that gripped the room.
His mother and father had gone to get food.
Anari stayed.
She wouldn't leave.
She couldn't.
Her eyes drifted to his face—still, pale, like a fragile statue that would crumble if she touched him too hard. She leaned forward, her voice barely above a whisper.
"...Asahi..."
Silence.
The machines hummed.
The lights flickered.
But there was no answer.
Anari swallowed hard. Her throat was dry—like she had been screaming for hours, but she hadn't said a word.
"I... I didn't go to school, you know..." she murmured.
Stillness.
Her voice trembled, cracking at the edges.
"I'm sure Sensei will be mad."
She forced a tiny, broken laugh—a laugh that fell apart before it even left her lips.
"...I'm sure she'll be sad when she sees you like this..."
Still, nothing.
Only the low hum of the machines.
Only the cold silence of the room.
Anari's eyes flickered with sadness, her hands tightening together until her knuckles turned white. She looked down at him, at the empty gaze, the unmoving chest.
"You've changed, Asahi..." she whispered.
Her breath hitched.
"I've never seen you like this."
Her voice cracked—splintered into pieces.
Her eyes grew glossy, shimmering with unshed tears.
"How can a person change like this?" she asked, her words fragile, like they might shatter if spoken any louder.
Her shoulders shook. Her breath came out ragged.
"Yesterday... you were fine."
Her hands reached out, trembling, and gently touched his arm. His skin was cold. She flinched, but she didn't pull back.
"You were walking... jumping... talking to me."
Her lips quivered. Her voice fell to a whisper—like she was talking to a ghost.
"A... alive man..."
Her fingers slipped away, dropping back into her lap. She stared at him—at the boy who had once been so full of life.
"What did you see, Asahi?"
Her voice broke completely, raw and aching.
"What did you see that made you like this?"
Her eyes searched his face, desperate, pleading.
"Was it... that bad?" she asked. Her breath shook. Her hands trembled.
"Was it... that heartbreaking...?"
But there was no answer.
Only silence.
Heavy. Suffocating.
Anari's shoulders slumped. She sank back into the chair, the room's dim light casting shadows across her hollow eyes.
Her gaze drifted to the window, unfocused.
Her hands hung limply at her sides.
She looked like she had fallen into a well—so deep that light could no longer reach her.
Anari's voice cracked, her words dripping with hopelessness.
"Is it that hard to tell...?" she whispered, her breath fogging up the window glass.
"...How am I supposed to go to school now, huh...?"
A tiny smile tugged at her lips—a sad, broken thing that crumbled before it even reached her eyes.
"Who will I tease now...?" she asked, her voice fragile.
Her hands trembled in her lap, and she stared at them, eyes unfocused.
"Who will I hit on the head and say good morning to...?"
Her voice cracked.
Her breath caught.
"Who's gonna stay with me... even though I'm dumb...?"
A sob escaped her lips—sharp and jagged. She clenched her fists, nails digging into her palms.
"Who's gonna tell the jokes, Asahi...?" she whispered, her voice shaking.
"Huh...?"
Her shoulders started to tremble. Her vision blurred.
Her breath grew short—quick, gasping, desperate.
And then—
She cried.
Not just tears.
Not just drops of sadness.
She broke.
Her hands clutched her chest, her sobs shaking her entire body.
Her voice cracked and shattered with every breath.
She looked up—staring at the ceiling as if searching for an answer.
But there was nothing.
No hope.
Just the empty, hollow light spilling in through the window.
Anari looked back down at him—her eyes swollen, her face streaked with tears. She wiped them with the back of her hand, but they didn't stop.
They kept coming.
Pouring.
Breaking her apart.
And then—
She forced a smile.
A hollow, empty smile.
It didn't reach her eyes. It barely reached her lips.
But she forced it anyway.
Because if she didn't... she might completely fall apart.
The room was drowning in silence. The light spilling through the window was dull—muted, as if the world itself had lost its color. Asahi lay still on the hospital bed, his left eye closed tight, his right half-open, glazed over with emptiness.
Anari sat beside him, her hands clasped together, knuckles white. Her eyes were hollow, reflecting only the stillness that clung to the room. Her gaze was fixed on his face—searching, pleading for even the slightest flicker of life.
Her voice broke the silence.
"Do you know what day is tomorrow…?" she whispered, leaning forward, her hands trembling against her lap.
Her breath caught, her eyes searching his for any sign—any glimpse of recognition.
But there was nothing.
Just silence.
Asahi lay still—unmoving, unblinking. His chest rose and fell with the machines, his gaze locked onto nothingness.
Anari's smile faltered, but she forced it back. It was hollow, empty—held together only by stubbornness.
She blinked, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears.
"…I've prepared everything, you know," she whispered, her voice cracking just slightly.
Still, nothing.
Silence.
She swallowed hard, her throat burning. Her hands tightened on her lap.
"We've never missed that day... right? Not even once…"
Her lips quivered. Her shoulders shook.
Her breath came out ragged.
"You were always happy that day... Remember?" she whispered, her voice fading into the heavy silence.
"…Always. You never even cried that day…"
The silence wrapped around her like a suffocating blanket. She squeezed her eyes shut, as if she could force back the tears. But they came anyway, slipping down her cheeks.
"Sometimes things didn't go as planned… but you always smiled."
Her voice cracked—splintered into a thousand shards.
"I didn't understand that."
She looked down at her hands, shaking, fingers twisting together. Her voice was barely more than a whisper.
"I asked you why… Why you always smiled like that… like the happiest person in your life."
Her eyes grew distant, like she was staring into the past—into a memory she couldn't let go of.
"And you said…"
Her voice dropped to a whisper.
"People don't care about anything apart from their own life… They don't have time for others. Selfish… always running behind something… forgetting about their loved ones."
Anari's breath shivered. Her hands clutched her skirt, knuckles white.
"And yet... some people... they arrange their time... and spend it for us. Even if it's just one day..."
Her lips trembled, but she forced them into a smile.
"I'm happy."
A tear slipped down her cheek.
"I'm happy that people in my life see me as their loved one."
Her breath came out jagged—shattered by emotion.
"I'm happy that you came."
Anari wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, the tear smearing across her cheek. She looked down at Asahi—at his lifeless face.
A smile tried to form on her lips, but it broke halfway through.
"That smile…" she whispered, her voice cracking.
"That's what I love, Asahi."
Her eyes shimmered, blurring with fresh tears.
"And tomorrow... it's that day again..."
Her breath shook. Her hands gripped his tighter.
"The day you always smile."
She blinked hard, forcing the tears to stop, but they wouldn't listen.
Her voice came out in trembling whispers.
"Even when you were sad… you always smiled…"
Her fingers brushed against his cold hands, but they didn't move.
"...Asahi…" she whispered, her voice shattering into a thousand pieces.
"I want to see that again."
Her hands clutched his tighter.
"Please... Asahi…"
Her voice grew desperate, broken.
"Please…"
Her shoulders began to shake. Her breath came out in sobs—sharp and jagged.
Her voice cracked—splintered into shards of desperation.
"One last time…"
Her voice broke completely.
"One last time, Asahi… please smile…"
Tears streamed down her face, dripping onto his hands, pooling between her fingers.
Her breath hitched. Her eyes were wide, searching his face—pleading with everything she had.
But Asahi didn't move.
His eyes didn't flicker.
His fingers didn't twitch.
He just lay there—trapped in silence.
Outside the room, his mother and father stood motionless.
The father's hands were holding a tray of food, his knuckles white from the grip.
He stared at the ground, eyes hollow, his breath slow and heavy.
Suddenly—
The tray slipped from his hands.
It crashed against the floor, shattering the silence. Food scattered across the linoleum, spilling out like broken promises.
Asahi's mother broke.
Her hands flew to her mouth, muffling the sob that escaped. Her knees gave out, and she collapsed against the wall, shoulders shaking with grief.
Her cries were silent—but the pain was deafening.
Asahi's father stood still.
His eyes were hollow.
Red.
But he didn't cry.
He couldn't.
Anari's voice echoed through the door—shattered and breaking.
"I don't care what you saw…" she screamed, voice cracking.
Her hands clutched Asahi's cold hands tighter, like she could pull him back from wherever he was slipping.
"Just... just come back, Asahi…"
Her voice grew weaker.
"Just come back…"
Her eyes squeezed shut, the tears slipping through her lashes.
The light from the window grew softer—dimmer.
And the silence returned.