"Even if... Even if it kills me"

The brother’s eyes, as dark and searing as hot coals, narrowed to furious slits as his fingers dug into the fabric of Keith's collar. 

A thick vein on his forehead throbbed like a caged viper, its rhythm a violent metronome against the skin. 

"I asked you a question, asshole!" he snarled, his breath a foul, coppery vapor in the small space.

Trapped against the wall, Keith’s heart hammered a frantic, desperate beat against his ribs. The skin on his palms grew slick with cold sweat as he met the other man’s furious gaze.

"I… I can explain," he stammered, his voice thin and reedy, completely swallowed by the weight of the moment.

The grip on his collar tightened further, cutting off Keith’s air. The brother’s knuckles bleached to the color of old bone. "Start talking, moron!" he bellowed, his voice a low, guttural rumble of thunder that vibrated through the floorboards.

Just as the pressure became unbearable, Akira rounded the corner. Her light footsteps gave way to a skidding halt as she took in the sight of Keith held captive. 

A beat of stunned silence passed, her eyes wide as they flickered between her brother's rigid back and Keith’s terrified face. Then, a fierce resolve hardened her features. 

Taking a deep breath, she unleashed a piercing yell that shattered the tension like a thrown stone. 

"Onii-chan, stop!"

The brother released Keith, his attention shifting from one target to another. The sharp transition, however, gave Keith a moment of reprieve. Akira stepped forward, her voice a low, soothing melody designed to de-escalate the situation.

“He's not a bad guy… I'm the one who invited him over… He's not taking advantage of me or anything like that, okay.”

A suffocating silence descended on the house, punctuated only by Keith’s ragged, gasping breaths. Relief washed over him, leaving his face cold and clammy. 

Akira’s own anxiety was etched into the tight line of her mouth, while her brother’s anger gave way to a mask of profound confusion. The rage was still there, simmering just below the surface, but now it was laced with disbelief.

He watched the girl he thought he knew, the sister who clung to isolation like a lifeline, now defending a stranger with a fervor he’d never witnessed. 

The sight was a splinter in his mind, sharp and painful. He had retreated into his own sorrow, only to find his world had changed without him. A new, dizzying ache blossomed behind his eyes.

What the hell is going on… Is this really the Akira that I know? The brother wondered. Normally, she'd avoid getting involved with anyone, so why, why is she involving herself with this runt.

Akira rushed to Keith, her hands hovering as if afraid to touch him, her eyes searching for any sign of injury. Keith managed a weak, unsteady chuckle.

“Why are you laughing? This isn't funny,” she pouted, a mix of worry and familiar charm playing on her features.

“Please, calm down, Akira. I’m fine,” he said, his smile widening slightly as his gaze met hers. His blue eyes, wide and earnest, held her attention.

The sight of their intimate exchange was a bitter tonic for the older brother. 

His eyes narrowed, the last vestiges of his bewilderment burning away to a cold, hard glare. Akira seemed to sense the shift, turning her head to her brother.

“Onii-chan, this is Keith, and he's a friend of mine,” 

She said, gesturing vaguely toward Keith. Akira then turned back, her hand pointing more directly this time. 

“And Keith, this is my older brother, Kyotaro.”

The two men locked gazes, Kyotaro’s a malevolent dagger, Keith's a placating plea. 

Kyotaro forced his expression into a simulacrum of politeness. He took a few slow steps, his hand extending in a parody of a handshake.

“It seems we got off on the wrong foot,” he said, his voice a low, level growl. The muscle in his forehead still twitched, a telltale serpentine pulse betraying his false calm.

Keith, sensing a trap but knowing no other choice, accepted the hand. Its grip was cold and clammy, a death-like chill that seeped into his bones. 

“Uh… yeah… I apologize for startling you. That was my fault,” he stammered, feeling a fresh bead of nervous sweat trickle down his temple.

“Right,” Kyotaro replied, his attention already shifting back to Akira. "Mom and Dad will be back tomorrow. When they get here, tell them I went back to the hospital.” 

The politeness evaporated, replaced by a frightening frown as he turned and walked past Akira, the sound of his heavy footsteps disappearing up the stairs.

A strained silence settled between the two left standing, the air thick and heavy with unspoken dread. 

Akira turned to Keith, her smile an awkward, fragile thing, a desperate attempt to lighten the mood. The usual sparkle in her eyes was gone, replaced by a shadow of concern.

“Hey, Keith. Please don't hate him,” she said, her voice dropping to a near-whisper. "He… has a lot going on right now.”

The words were spoken with such sincerity that Keith knew she was telling the truth. Akira never lied.

“Don’t worry, I won't.” he said softly, and they retreated to the kitchen, leaving the tension to fester in the silent house.

Meanwhile, Kyotaro entered his room and drew the curtains, plunging the space into shadow. He clicked his tongue, a hollow sound in the sudden gloom. 

He sank onto his bed, the mattress sighing under his weight. He pulled out his phone. 

The screen flickered to life, showing the password input. He typed "Minami", and with a quiet click, the phone unlocked.

The screen showed: 【32%】 battery and 【8:26 am】. He navigated to his photo album and selected the most recent image.

It was a selfie. He was in it, frowning yet blushing, making a peace sign as his cheek was pressed against a girl’s. 

Her purple hair framed a face of such radiant, undeniable beauty that her bright smile seemed to illuminate the entire photo. 

Her sapphire blue eyes twinkled with a life that rivaled the vibrant hair. She was the first person to have ever been so close to him, the first to truly see him. 

The caption, and his heart, whispered: My reason for living, for smiling, for dying. 

In the background, a hospital bed and medical equipment offered a painful contrast to their joy.

For ten long minutes, he stared at the image, his expression utterly neutral, devoid of the rage that had consumed him moments before. It was a blank mask, covering an ocean of pain.

He swiped to the next photo: a snapshot from a ramen shop. The girl smiled at the camera, giving a peace sign while Kyotaro, unblushing this time, was captured mid-slurp, his attention fully on his noodles. 

Her expression was one of genuine amusement. He swiped again, through a mosaic of their memories: videos of festivals, lazy days in the park, shared food. Each one was a testament to a life he was losing.

He found a video and played it. The shaky footage was his own. He had been filming her at a fireworks festival. 

In the video, vibrant bursts of iridescent color painted the velvety black sky. Golden sparks rained down like liquid light, hissing softly as they dissipated.

“How beautiful. They look amazing, don't they, Kyo?” she asked, her sapphire eyes reflecting the fireworks with a light of their own.

“Yeah, I guess,” he mumbled back, not looking away from the camera.

Emerald and sapphire lotuses unfurled across the darkness, accompanied by the muffled cracks and booms of the explosions, a percussive beat felt in the chest.

A finale exploded, and the kaleidoscope of color whirled into a trail of glittering silver. The lingering scent of gunpowder and ozone was the pungent signature of the ephemeral beauty.

“So—that’s it, huh?” he asked in the video.

“Looks like. Hey, hold up, are you still taking a video?”

“Oh, right, forgot—” The video ended abruptly.

Then a memory resurfaced, sharp and clear against the static of his grief.

*****

『Thursday—25 September 2025』

『10:58 pm』

『9 hours ago』

Kyotaro sat in a chair by her bedside, his hand clutching hers. The room was shrouded in darkness, save for the faint, steady pulse of blue light from the monitors. 

Minami’s slender form lay beneath a tangled mess of sheets, a fragile silhouette in the dim glow. 

Tubes and wires snaked from her body like mechanical veins, connecting her to the devices that kept her alive. 

A nasal cannula sat nestled beneath her nose, feeding her a gentle stream of oxygen. Her skin, almost translucent, shone with a faint sheen of sweat. 

A rhythmic whoosh of the ventilator provided a steady, constant cadence, a cold, hard reminder of the biological battle she fought.

Shadows from the dim light danced across her face, accentuating the fine lines of her closed eyes, her beauty both breathtaking and heartbreakingly fragile.

The quiet knock at the door was an unwelcome intrusion. The doctor entered, his expression grim. He gestured for Kyotaro to step outside. In the empty room next door, the doctor took a long moment before speaking, his voice muted.

"Mr. Kurosawa, as you know, Miss Tanaka has been battling Hypertrophic Cardiomyopathy. Unfortunately, her condition has progressed rapidly, and we're facing significant challenges.”

Kyotaro’s body went rigid. His jaw tightened. A low, menacing growl rattled in his throat.

"The thickening of her heart muscle is obstructing blood flow, and the arrhythmias have become more frequent. Given her age and the severity, I'm afraid her prognosis isn't good." 

The doctor paused, his gaze fixed on the wall, deliberately avoiding Kyotaro’s now-furious eyes. 

"We've done everything we could, but... her time is limited. It's unlikely she'll live beyond a few more months.”

Kyotaro lunged forward, his hands clamping around the doctor's pristine white coat.

"You've done everything you could?" 

He seethed, his voice a lethal, controlled hiss that belied the fury in his eyes. He inhaled a deep, shuddering breath, then unleashed a torrent of vitriol.

"Don’t give me that Shit! She's going to die and all you can say is ‘we've done everything we could’?! I don't want you to do everything you can! I want you to stop her from dying, dammit!"

The doctor flinched as Kyotaro’s grip tightened, but he held his ground.

"I know this is a lot to take in, Mr. Kurosawa, but… Miss Tanaka is a strong young lady," 

He said, clearing his throat once Kyotaro released his coat. 

"We'll ensure she's comfortable and has the best possible quality of life, but... you must prepare for the worst."

The words hung in the air, a physical weight. "Limited time" "A few more months" They bounced around inside Kyotaro's skull, refusing to form a coherent thought. 

His mouth opened, but no sound came out. The ambient sounds of the hospital faded, replaced by the frantic thrumming of his own pulse. His skin grew cold, and a clammy sweat beaded on his brow. 

He slumped into the nearest chair, burying his head in his hands, a low, guttural wail of despair escaping his lips. It was a sound devoid of humanity, a raw, primal expression of his broken heart. The doctor walked away, leaving him to drown in his agony.

*****

The dam in Kyotaro’s eyes finally broke. He clenched his teeth, the muscles in his jaw straining. He squeezed the phone so tightly the screen audibly groaned under the pressure. 

A single, jagged crack spider-webbed from the corner of the screen where a photo of him and Minami with their friends was displayed. 

Tears finally spilled over, hot and stinging. He dropped the phone and lay on his back, staring at the ceiling.

"Minami," he whispered, his voice a raw rasp, the words tasting of salt and sorrow. "I swear… I'm going to stay by your side… no matter what… I'll do whatever it takes to see you smile again… Even if… Even if it kills me.”

【To be Continued...】