Chapter 35: Some Sketches Remain in the Soul (II)

When the world slowly unblurred, it felt…muted.

Pale light filtered through a hospital curtain, dust motes swimming lazily in its glow.

The hum of machines. The faint beep of a monitor. The sterile, unfamiliar scent of disinfectant.

I turned my head slowly.

The pain came first.

“...Ah.”

A dull, deep throb pulsing behind my forehead, down my spine, to my shoulders and arms, and it was everywhere.

Then my eyes caught the digital clock above the wall-mounted television.

12:14 p.m.

December 31st.

The year was dying.

And yet, for some reason, in this kind of pain I'm in, I wonder why I wasn’t.

I blinked and shifted my gaze around, trying to piece together how I got here.

I immediately registered the soft and weight against my side.

And then I saw her.

A girl with golden hair sleeping beside me, her head resting just below my chest, one hand loosely curled on the mattress near mine. In her hair was a pink hairpin that really stood out given its modesty over her other jewelries.

Her breathing was shallow, almost hesitant. Her hair spilled like sunlight across the white bedsheet, soft and tangled, catching the light in a way that made it shimmer like something unreal.

Even with her eyes closed, she looked…breathtakingly beautiful.

Did I fall in love at first sight? Oh, maybe.

She looks like a bisque doll at human size.

And the trace of lavender wafting from her, is the one that lingered in one's clothes after a hug.

I shifted slightly.

Pain shot down my neck and into my spine. I winced.

She stirred.

Her eyelashes fluttered, and her head lifted from my side.

Sunlight backdropped her face, and she looked like an angel that descended from heavens.

The girl blinked up at me in sleepy confusion. Then her eyes widened.

“…Itsuki…?”

Her voice cracked slightly—surprise, disbelief, relief all tangled in one.

“You’re awake,” she whispered. “You’re—oh god—thank god—”

She stood up quickly, brushing strands of hair from her face, her hands shaking.

She immediately pounced into me and pulled me in a tight embrace.

I froze for a few seconds before returning the hug, unsure what to do. My arms just hung limply at my sides, pain tormenting me at the very least effort I put in.

“Does something hurt? Anywhere? Tell me.”

“Hmm…head, I guess.”

After a moment she pulled away, looking directly into my eyes.

She looked like she’d been crying recently.

"You’re in the hospital,” she said, swallowing. “You fell from the balcony, but you’re okay now. You landed in the pool. You hit your head…and you weren’t waking up. I was—I was so scared…”

Her voice trembled. She tried to keep smiling.

“You’re okay now,” she repeated, as if saying it aloud would make it more real.

I listened to every word she said and nodded slightly.

“I’m sorry,” she said suddenly, biting her lip. “I shouldn’t have been so…reckless. I was hurting. I didn’t consider things carefully. And you—you came after me. You pulled me back and—and I thought…”

Her voice faded into silence.

I stared at her, trying to figure out and piece everything that she was saying recently.

Rooftop?

Pool?

Fell?

I opened my mouth.

“…Who are you?”

She looked at me as if her world stopped.

For a second, I thought maybe I had said something wrong. Maybe my voice came out too soft.

“I don't really…uh.”

I stuttered when I saw her expression shifting.

“…Huh?” she laughed faintly. “What…what kind of joke is that?”

She stepped closer, forcing a smile. Her eyes searched mine.

“Ah, right—as expected,” as she rummaged on the cabinets, and pulled a small phone with a cracked screen. “You're fooling around again to see if I'm going to break into laughter. Classic Itsuki.”

“...Itsuki?”

She turned back to me.

“Yeah, you did it before. Like that time I took care of you at your apartment—you remember that, don’t you? You said that my sketches are manga-fied paintings, and you loved Paul Cézanne…”

I stared at her blankly.

Her smile faltered.

“Okay, okay, fine, Itsuki.” she said with a shaky breath, as if humoring me. “If you’re going to be like that…”

She slipped her fingers into mine. Her hand was warm and trembling.

“I’m Kousaka Akari,” she said softly. “Your classmate at Class 2-1, Shonan High School. You called me a golden porcupine once when your thoughts slipped from your tongue. I'm that delinquent who bought you canned coffee when you got beaten up by Yuuya when they badmouthed me. I always sit to that bench ten meters across your stall every day, and sketches every places she wants to remember.”

She smiled again, but it started to break when I left no response.

“I’m the only girl who ever loved a stubborn dango boy who hides behind a mask when he’s hurting.”

Her voice trembled on the word ‘love’.

“And more than that, I loved his simplicity, broken humor, his sharp wits and his courage to throw everything just for the people he cared for.”

Her smile was crumbling.

But I said nothing.

Because I didn’t know what to say.

I didn’t know her.

“…I’m sorry,” I said finally. “I…really don’t remember.”

Her fingers tensed around mine.

Her smile collapsed completely.

“No,” she whispered. “No, no, no—don’t joke like this. This isn’t funny anymore, Itsuki.”

I just looked at her, lost and honest.

She shook her head. “Don’t look at me like that. That’s not how you look at me.”

“I…I’m sorry,” I said again. “If I’ve hurt you somehow, I—”

“Stop,” she said, stepping back. “Please stop saying sorry like you don’t know me.”

Her voice was cracking. Her shoulders trembled.

"You told me I was your everything," she whispered, "even when I was at my worst. Even when I wanted to disappear…you'll be there."

Her tears started to trail down her face, but she didn't wipe them.

"I thought…I thought that meant something.”

I didn’t move. I didn’t know how to.

“Come on, say something! Say that you love me! Say that you remember me! Say that you need me! Itsuki, please…”

She sniffled, but that bittersweet smile resurfaced again.

“...I need you more than anything right now…”

She stared at me like she was trying to burn my face into memory, like she was afraid it would vanish the moment she blinked.

“I promised myself I wouldn’t cry,” she said, laughing bitterly. “I told myself if you woke up, I’d be strong. I wouldn’t cry, no matter what.”

But she was already breaking.

Her knees gave out, and she dropped beside the bed, pressing her forehead against the edge, hands clenched around my wrist.

“But I lied. I can’t do this,” she whispered. “I can’t pretend it doesn’t hurt.”

I watched her break down, wailing loudly in my arms.

She clung to me with all her might, and I felt nothing but the raw pain of her sobs against my heart. The weight of her misery seemed to press into my own chest like a physical weight, and even through my hospital gown and gauzes, the chill of her tears seeped into me.

I felt everything.

But it wasn't a memory.

It was just pain.

“I’m sorry,” I said again. And again.

Because I didn’t know any other words.

She never answered. She just wept into the bed sheets, trying to hold ourselves together with shaking hands.

***

The corridor smelled of antiseptic and warm bread.

Yet when Kousaka-san stepped beside me, it was immediately filled with French vanilla and lavender shampoo.

I dragged my IV pole beside me, one slow step at a time. The bag above swayed with each movement, threatening to fall at one wrong movement.

Neither of us said much after we left the ward and proceeded to the hospital canteen.

She cradled the warm drink I got her. She hadn’t sipped it yet.

And her one arm, slung around mine and she leaned softly on my shoulders, owning me, making me the only thing she can hold onto before she would fall.

It felt strange…like I had accidentally walked into someone else’s life.

For me, I wasn’t supposed to be here beside her—offering her something that I couldn’t feel the meaning behind.

But I did it anyway.

“Is it helping?” I asked.

She looked at the cup. Her lips curled slightly, but it didn’t quite become a smile.

“I probably don’t deserve it,” she said softly.

Her voice was quieter than before. Less like it was breaking, more like it had given up trying to fix itself.

“Why do you think that?” I asked.

She stared at her reflection on the surface of the coffee, as if waiting for it to answer her instead.

“...I was stupid. I made everything worse. The result? I lost someone I…”

She stopped. Her grip on my arm tightened.

She took a breath. “Because I killed whatever chance I had left.”

There was a long silence.

I didn’t know how to respond. I didn’t remember what she meant.

But something about her words twisted and filled the hollowness inside me.

“…I don’t think it’s anyone’s fault,” I said finally. “I don’t know what happened. But people break. That’s what they do when things hurt too much. I don’t think that’s stupid. I think it’s a human mechanism.”

“That's what you always said.”

“You didn't agree. Do I consider myself wrong?”

Her hand trembled.

“Don't ask me such questions. I'll miss arguing with you more.”

“But I'm trying to argue with you now.”

“Arrêt, Itsuki. You're hurting me, honestly.”

“Then I'm sorry if I'm hurting you.”

We walked in silence again.

The corridor ahead of us turned softly at the corner, with muted sunlight pouring through a nearby window. There, just past the intersection, we both noticed something—or rather, someone.

Kousaka-san slowed down.

And so did I.

There was a man kneeling on the pale tiled floor.

He was sharply dressed—black suit, polished shoes, dark hair combed perfectly. He looked like he had stepped straight out of an upper-class boardroom and dropped to the floor without hesitation.

But what struck me more was the woman he knelt before.

She had shoulder-length lavender hair—almost silver under the hospital light.

Her eyes were the same color as mine.

And beside her stood a small girl, no older than five, with a messy ponytail of crimson hair… the exact shade as mine.

I didn’t realize I’d stopped walking until I felt Kousaka-san’s pull.

“I’m sorry,” the man said shakily, still kneeling. “I know I failed. I should’ve been there. I should’ve protected her better. I don’t expect forgiveness. But I’ll do everything I can. I’ll pay for his treatment. I’ll cover both of their education. All of it, until both of them finish college. Whatever it takes, please, Ma'am.”

The lavender-haired woman gave him a gentle, tired smile.

She reached down and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“You don’t have to apologize, Mr. Hayato.” she said. “You didn’t fail. Life…just doesn’t go as we expect it to. I’m only glad that Akari-chan is still here.”

She sniffled and wiped a stray tear in her eye.

“So please…raise your head.”

The man hesitated.

And then, slowly, he did.

“I'm really sorry. I promise to be a better parent for Akari.”

“I know you are, so please, you're already forgiven.”

And when his eyes landed on me, they widened.

I blinked, unsure why my chest suddenly felt tight.

Without a word, he dropped to the ground again—this time facing me.

Another dogeza.

His hands were pressed flat. His forehead touched the floor. His voice trembled.

“I’m sorry…Itsuki-kun. And thank you for saving my stupid daughter.”

I froze.

The IV line jerked slightly from the pole. The bag swayed.

Why did this man…why did he know my name?

Why did his apology sound like it had been sitting on his tongue for years?

Beside me, Kousaka-san stepped forward suddenly.

“…Papa,” she said.

I turned to her.

The word shook something in me.

No memories yet.

A gist, probably, a flash of nothing.

Kousaka-san’s father didn’t move.

I took a breath and stepped forward, gently placing a hand on his shoulder.

“…Please, stand up,” I said. “You don’t have to do this.”

He didn’t look at me.

“You don't deserve something like this. Your memories…that's so unfair…”

“It's fine, actually. At least your daughter was safe…if I was really that one that saved her. I'm so—”

“Don't say sorry, son. That should've been us.”

Slowly, shakily, he rose.

When he stood, I realized he was a little taller than me. A strong-looking man, but right now he looked…like a broken kite.

Falling, limping and weak.

He embraced me for a brief moment and said “Thank you for everything.” before pulling away and turning to his daughter.

“Akari,” he said, voice cracking. “Parlons-en. Il y a...il y a beaucoup de choses dont nous devons discuter.”

Kousaka-san looked between us.

Then down at her coffee.

And then up again.

“D’accord,” she whispered.

She turned to me. “He said that we had something to discuss.”

And she smiled.

It was soft.

But wrong.

Like a smile given when you’re on the verge of crying but refuse to.

“I’ll see you later, okay?”

I nodded.

But somehow, I wasn’t sure if I would.