The Dying Boy’s Wish

The soft flickering of the monitors and the constant, repetitive beeping sounds—those were Yuto’s only companions for days, weeks, months… maybe over a year already. Other than that, the only common noises came from footsteps in the corridor outside his room. Sometimes rushed, other times sluggish, as if someone was holding those people back from moving forward.

After so long confined to this sterile place, playing guessing games about the stories behind those footsteps had become Yuto’s only entertainment. The fast ones, he imagined, belonged to fathers racing to meet their newborns—or nurses dashing to help patients in critical need. The slow ones? Those were the defeated—the grieving, or the dying. People who understood that it didn’t matter how fast they walked; the outcome was already decided.

To pass the time, he occasionally spiced the stories up—imagining cheating spouses, secret affairs, or dramatic discoveries in maternity wards.

A silly way to spend his time, perhaps, but what else could he do? Nothing brought him joy anymore. How could it, when his lifeline seemed to shorten by the minute? He glanced down at the clean white sheets and barely saw his hands in the dim room. They were just as pale and thin as the covers he lay under.

“Is everything okay, Kisaragi?”

The black-haired boy was so deep in thought he hadn’t even noticed Nurse Aki enter the room. She turned on a light—just enough to see clearly. Yuto would have preferred the darkness, so no one could see his sorry state. But this was her job, and he didn’t want to make her feel uncomfortable.

“Ah, Miss Aki. Everything is just peachy! I have a feeling tomorrow’s the day Dr. Hanamura will let me leave this place!”

“With that kind of positive attitude, I have no doubt!” she said, smiling.

He knew she was only humoring him. They both knew that wasn’t going to happen. He forced a smile, trying to make it look real, but he saw the pity in her eyes. She could probably see through the dullness in his own, past the fake sparkle of hope he clung to deep down.

Out of the corner of his eye, one of the monitors glitched. But when he turned his head, it was back to normal. Maybe he was too tired and just imagined it. Or maybe the equipment really was faulty. Should he say something? No. Better not. There were other patients who actually had a future—ones who needed working monitors. It wasn’t like he’d be needing his much longer.

“Well, if there’s nothing I can help with, I’ll go check on the others. But remember, ring the bell and I’ll come running! You barely use it anymore—it makes me feel like you don’t like me…” she teased, grinning.

“Hah, I’m just worried that if you come too often, you’ll fall in love with me. I wouldn’t want to break your heart.”

Yuto waved as she left, chuckling.

As if anyone would fall in love with a half-dead kid. His hair was a mess, his body so deflated you could see the outline of his bones, and the dark circles under his eyes weren’t the attractive kind like in anime. Just depressing.

Alone again, he slipped back into thought.

Was this really how his life would end? It didn’t feel right. He had read so many books, played so many games. The things that once brought joy now only filled him with resentment. It felt like he’d been robbed—of time, of meaning. What was the point of all the struggle, if there was no purpose to it? In the stories he loved, heroes had trials for a reason. The pain shaped them into something greater.

All he had ever wanted was to be someone meaningful—to live out a real adventure, filled with mystery, friendship, and joy. That kind of life was the only one he thought would feel worth living. And yet here he was, lying in a hospital bed, unable to move more than a few inches, wilting away day by day, his mind growing darker with each passing moment. He knew he was meant for more. So why hadn’t he even made it to the end of high school?

“I just want to be someone important… like in a story…”

Those were the last words he whispered before drifting into another nap.

***

When he opened his eyes again, the morning sun was already shining through the window. It wasn’t unusual for Yuto’s naps to stretch on longer than expected.

What was unusual was seeing Dr. Hanamura standing at his bedside. This wasn’t the normal time for a check-up.

“Slept well, Yuto?”

Yuto had never seen a faker smile than the one on his doctor’s face.

Something was wrong.

Dr. Hanamura was known across the hospital as one of the kindest people—second only to a few nurses. Though he was only in his 30s, he looked older. Must have been the stress and guilt of the job. Bringing bad news never got easier, or so he always said.

“Could’ve been better. Still haven’t heard anything about that softer mattress I requested. Don’t tell me you brought it with you?”

He forced a grin. Maybe he just wanted to be remembered as someone who smiled, even at the end.

“No mattress, I’m afraid,” the doctor said, his smile faltering.

“I wish that was the worst news you brought, but that’s not true, is it?”

Dr. Hanamura tensed at the shift in tone.

There was no more room for avoidance. No more sugarcoating.

“Listen, Yuto…” He took a breath. “We’ve tried everything—every treatment we could. But nothing has worked. I’m sorry. There’s… nothing else we can do.”

Yuto should have felt devastated. He should’ve screamed, cried, broken down. But instead, for the first time in a long time, he felt… calm. He didn’t need to pretend anymore. No more hope. No more fighting.

Tears welled up in his eyes. He wasn’t even sure when it started, but they fell silently down his pale cheeks. Through blurred vision, the doctor’s form looked distorted—almost like the monitors when they glitched. Another symptom? Or just his imagination?

“I see… I’m sorry, Doc. You’ve all worked so hard. I never wanted to be such a burden.”

“You were never a burden, Yuto. Never. There’s nothing wrong with a young man hoping to live. I wish we’d found a cure, but… we’ve hit a dead end.”

Silence filled the room like a thick fog. Even the monitors seemed to fall quiet.

“I… I think I need some time alone, Doc…”

He didn’t even know how to finish the sentence. Time to what? Grieve? Reflect? Wait?

The doctor only nodded, then turned and left, leaving Yuto alone with the beeping of the machines.

***

Alarms blared.

Nurses rushed in.

Yuto didn’t understand why they looked so panicked. He thought once it was over, he wouldn’t be anyone’s problem anymore.

It was ending. And all he wanted to say was, “I’m sorry.”

He didn’t even know who he was apologizing to.

To the doctors and nurses? For wasting their time?

To himself? For wasting his life?

Then, without warning, his vision faded to black as the final beeping tone echoed in his ears.

***

Was this what death felt like?

Weightless, suspended in a void of endless blackness.

So that was it?

It frustrated him. He thought death would bring peace, not this... nothingness. It felt like being stuck in the hospital bed again—trapped, helpless. Except this time, there wasn’t even pain. He was too used to it to notice.

Then, a voice echoed from nowhere and everywhere at once.

Mechanical. Artificial.

A light bloomed in the darkness—lines of binary forming a curtain that revealed a shimmering humanoid shape, flickering like unfinished code. It was terrifying. But also mesmerizing.

“Yuto Kisaragi…” it said. “You wished to matter. I have decided to grant that wish.”

Yuto froze.

Was this some kind of divine test? A bizarre afterlife trial? He never really believed in heaven or hell.

The being continued: “Your silent pleas were heard. And so, I come with a deal.”

“What kind of deal?” Yuto asked, his voice hoarse. “Who… who are you?”

“Who I am is irrelevant. You shall be reborn. You will be the protagonist of a new world I’ve created. But you must accept the terms.”

The figure glitched, then smiled. Not maliciously—just… mysteriously.

“…What terms?” Yuto asked.

“That, I cannot say. It is a cost you must pay in exchange for becoming someone who matters.”

“What does that even mean?” Yuto pressed. “To matter?”

“That is what you will discover—if you accept.”

It was a dead end. The entity wouldn’t tell him more. But every time he imagined living again—truly living—his heart beat faster. Strange, since technically he no longer had one.

He knew it sounded too good to be true. Knew there would be a price. Knew it was dangerous.

And yet…

What else was there? Floating in the dark? Or disappearing into nothing?

This was his chance.

“I…” he hesitated, but he already knew the answer. “I want to be someone who matters.”

The glowing code surrounded him, wrapping him in light. It pulled him apart and reassembled him all at once. He wasn’t sure when the being disappeared—but the darkness gave way to blinding light.

Then nothing.