Chapter 28: The Price of Sunrise

The world smelled like blood and antiseptic.

I woke to the sound of beeping—a steady, mechanical rhythm that didn’t belong to me but decided my life anyway. My vision swam into focus slowly, the ceiling above me white and sterile, so far removed from the brutal darkness of the ring that it almost felt like another life.

Pain lanced through my ribs when I tried to move. My body screamed, each nerve ending set on fire. I collapsed back against the thin mattress, jaw clenched so hard I thought my teeth would crack.

I’d felt pain before. I’d lived with it, fought through it, even welcomed it. But this was different. This wasn’t pain I could shake off. It clung to me like a curse, whispering that I’d left pieces of myself in that ring.

Jin sat in the corner, legs crossed, his face buried in his phone. When he noticed me stirring, he stood and pocketed the device, his usual grin nowhere in sight.

“You’re awake,” he said, voice low. No jokes this time. No smirk.

I blinked slowly. My throat felt like sandpaper. “…How bad?”

He hesitated, and that hesitation told me everything I needed to know before he even spoke.

“Three cracked ribs. Dislocated shoulder. Internal bleeding—they had to stop it quick. You were this close—” he pinched his fingers together “—to bleeding out in the locker room.”

I let out a hollow laugh that scraped my throat raw. “Could’ve fooled me.”

“You shouldn’t be talking,” he said sharply, almost like he cared. “You shouldn’t even be awake.”

I didn’t answer. My mind was already elsewhere. Because I’d promised her. Because time wasn’t waiting.

“Jin.” My voice came out rough, a broken rasp. “Where is she?”

He froze for a fraction of a second. That was all it took for the truth to land like a knife in my chest.

“Yume.” My voice cracked on her name. “Where is she?”

He sighed, dragging a hand down his face. “She’s in the hospital. Another wing. Collapsed last night. The doctors… they’re saying it’s bad.”

Something inside me snapped so violently that for a second, I forgot about the pain. My body moved on instinct, tearing at the IV in my arm. Blood welled at the puncture, a sharp sting that felt insignificant compared to the urgency burning through me.

“Are you insane?!” Jin barked, lunging toward me. “You can’t even stand—”

“I don’t care!” My roar shredded my throat, raw and desperate. “I’m not lying here while she—while she—”

I couldn’t even finish the sentence. The words tasted like ash.

Jin grabbed my shoulder, shoving me back down with surprising force. Pain ripped through me like lightning, and I almost blacked out. Almost.

“Listen to me, you stubborn bastard!” he snapped, his voice shaking with something I’d never heard from him before—fear. “You walk out that door, you’ll kill yourself before you make it ten steps!”

I met his eyes, and whatever he saw there must’ve scared him more than Goro ever could.

“Then I crawl,” I rasped.

His jaw clenched. For a long second, neither of us spoke. Then, with a curse, he let go.

“Fine. You wanna kill yourself for her? Do it fast.”

---

It wasn’t fast. It wasn’t graceful. It was agony dressed as motion.

Every step was a war. My ribs screamed with every breath, my legs buckled under me, and the hallway stretched on like an endless road paved with fire. Nurses tried to stop me, voices sharp with alarm, but Jin waved them off with a glare that could’ve melted steel.

When I finally reached her room, I had nothing left but will. My hand shook as I gripped the doorframe, my body a shattered ruin propped up by sheer defiance.

And then I saw her.

---

Yume lay in a bed too big for her small frame, pale against the white sheets. Her lips were bloodless, her skin almost translucent, as if the light was already trying to take her away. Machines hummed softly around her, their blinking lights mocking me with every fragile beat they measured.

For a moment, I couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.

She turned her head at the sound of the door. Her eyes, blind but so unbearably alive, found me like they always did.

“Kazuki…” Her voice was soft, breaking me more than any punch ever could.

I stumbled to her side, collapsing into the chair like a man drowning in his own body. My hand found hers, cold and fragile in my grip.

“You idiot,” she whispered, her lips twitching into a faint smile. “You look… awful.”

I laughed, and it sounded like breaking glass. “Takes one to know one.”

She chuckled weakly, the sound thin and fleeting. Then her smile faltered. Her fingers tightened around mine, trembling like autumn leaves.

“Kazuki… I—” She broke off, coughing, her whole body shaking with the effort. I reached out, brushing her hair back gently, helpless against the storm inside me.

“Don’t,” I said, my voice raw. “Don’t say it.”

“But I have to.” Her blind eyes glistened, catching the sterile light like shattered glass. “Thank you. For… giving me everything I never thought I’d have.”

I bowed my head, forehead resting against her hand. The salt of my tears burned against my skin, but I didn’t care.

“I’m not done,” I whispered fiercely. “You still have wishes left.”

She smiled faintly, like the ghost of sunlight. “Then… play me the song.”

It hit me like a blade through the chest. The recording. The one I made that night in the concert hall, when her fingers danced on the keys like magic.

My hands fumbled for my phone, shaking so hard I nearly dropped it. When the first notes spilled into the room, her breath caught.

The music filled the silence, soft and haunting, like a memory made flesh. Yume closed her eyes, her lips curving as if she could still feel the keys under her fingers.

“Happiness,” she murmured, her voice barely a breath, “is just… a sound.”

I couldn’t answer. My throat was a battlefield, every word drowned in the flood of grief clawing at me.

I just sat there, holding her hand, as the music played on.

---

By the time the song ended, so had the illusion that time would wait for us.

Her breathing grew shallow, each inhale a fragile thread threatening to snap.

“Kazuki…” Her lips trembled around my name. “Take me to the sky.”

The request was so simple. So impossible. But I nodded anyway, because breaking wasn’t an option.

“Always,” I whispered.

And in that moment, I swore I’d give her the sunrise—even if it killed me.