Chapter 11

Tadashi’s room was warmer than expected, filled with the soft glow of a bedside lamp. Stacks of books sat neatly on his desk, and a collection of photos—some old, some recent—lined the shelves. The air smelled faintly of herbal tea, though the steaming cup beside his bed remained untouched.

“You’re making such a big deal out of this,” Tadashi muttered, his voice hoarse as he pulled his blanket up to his chin.

Kei smirked. “We’re making a big deal? You were the one who decided to nearly collapse on the way home.”

“Not my fault…” Tadashi groaned, shifting uncomfortably. “I just felt a little dizzy.”

Rin crossed her arms. “Dizzy people don’t turn pale like ghosts and almost fall on their faces.”

Nao knelt beside his bed, resting a hand on his forehead. “You’re still burning up.”

Daiki scratched his head. “Maybe it’s just a cold?”

Haruto adjusted his glasses. “Colds don’t hit that fast. It’s more likely exhaustion from yesterday’s beach trip. Overexertion plus the cold wind at night—it makes sense.”

Hikaru nodded. “He just needs rest.”

Nao, however, didn’t look convinced. She glanced down at Tadashi’s tired expression, his breathing slightly heavier than normal.

“You should eat something,” she said softly. “I can make some soup.”

“You…can cook?” Tadashi teased weakly.

Nao scoffed. “I’m not Rin.”

“Hey!” Rin huffed. “I make instant noodles just fine.”

Kei chuckled. “That’s setting the bar pretty low.”

Nao sighed and stood. “I’ll be back.”

The evening passed in a blur of idle chatter and jokes. Tadashi remained in bed, occasionally groaning about how everyone was acting like he was dying, which earned him playful jabs from Rin and Kei. Nao, however, kept glancing at him between conversations. He looked so much weaker than before. When he fell asleep, the group quieted down, eventually deciding to let him rest for the night.

“We should go,” Hikaru whispered. “He’ll be fine by morning.”

Nao hesitated. “I’ll stay a little longer.”

The others exchanged glances but didn’t argue. One by one, they left, leaving only her in the dimly lit room. She sat beside him, watching his chest rise and fall. His breathing sounded…off. Shallower. Uneven. Her fingers curled into fists. “You better wake up fine tomorrow,” she muttered.

Tadashi didn’t respond.

Morning came, and sunlight filtered through the curtains. The sound of birds chirping in the distance filled the quiet room. Nao stirred awake in the chair beside the bed, stretching her sore limbs.

Something felt…wrong.

She turned to Tadashi, expecting to see his usual tired expression, maybe even an annoyed grumble about how she was still there. Instead, he lay eerily still. Her stomach twisted.

“Tadashi?”

No response.

She reached out, pressing a trembling hand to his forehead.

Cold.

Her breath hitched.

“No…”

She shook him gently at first, then harder. “Tadashi, wake up. This isn’t funny.”

Nothing.

A choked sob escaped her lips as she grabbed his hand, squeezing tightly. It didn’t squeeze back.

Tears blurred her vision. “No…No, you said you were fine.”

The door burst open, the others returning with their usual energy—until they saw her face.

“Nao?” Rin started. “What—”

She didn’t have to say it. The silence that followed was deafening. Tadashi wasn’t going to wake up.

And for the first time, none of them knew what to say.

The world felt different without Tadashi.

It wasn’t just his absence—it was the way the air felt heavier, the way laughter had become a foreign sound, the way his name was no longer spoken in the hallways. Life moved on, as it always did, but for those who had known him, time seemed to have stopped.

Nao hadn’t spoken to anyone in days. She had shut herself away, barely responding to messages, skipping school, and ignoring the concerned knocks at her door. She had always been strong—always the one to hold herself together no matter what—but now, she felt like a hollow shell. The warmth she had started to feel around Tadashi was gone, replaced with a suffocating emptiness.

The others were struggling too. Haruto and Hikaru threw themselves into work, Daiki tried to keep up a facade of normalcy, but it was Rin and Kei who were the most unsettling. They had vanished, leaving behind no explanation, no note, no farewell.

Just gone.

The group was falling apart.

The time skip blurred the pain, but it didn’t erase it. Days bled into weeks, weeks into months. The world moved forward, but Tadashi’s absence lingered in the corners of their hearts like an unshakable shadow.

For Tadashi, however, time had no meaning. He found himself standing in an empty void, stretching endlessly in every direction. It was neither dark nor light, just an existence that felt… hollow.

And then, in the distance, he saw it again. The star-like spark. It flickered, just out of reach, glowing with a warmth that felt familiar. He didn’t know why, but something deep inside him ached to reach it. To grasp it. To make it his.

He ran.

His feet moved, but the spark always remained just beyond his grasp. No matter how hard he pushed forward, it danced away from him, taunting him. He lunged, fingers stretching desperately—and missed.

Falling to his knees, he stared at his trembling hands.

Why? Why couldn’t he reach it?

A deep, crushing weight settled on his chest. Despair, thicker and heavier than anything he had ever felt before, wrapped around him like chains. He had always believed in pushing forward, in finding a way no matter what—but here, in this endless void, he was powerless.

His hands clenched into fists. His goal—whatever it was—was still unfinished. He wasn’t meant to be here. He wasn’t meant to stay in this nothingness.

But how was he supposed to move forward when he couldn’t even take hold of what lay before him? His heart ached. The memories of his friends, of Nao, of the life he had left behind, flashed before his eyes. And for the first time, Tadashi felt true, suffocating fear. Because for the first time, he realized—he might never find his way back.

Nao stared out her window, her face blank, her mind empty. The world outside continued as if nothing had changed, but she knew the truth. Everything had changed.

Tadashi was gone.

And she wasn’t sure she knew how to live in a world without him.