The Final Trick

She was looking at the reflection of her brother in her memory.

"Hina, do you know the secret of magic?"

The memory came sharp, brought on by the rhythmic swaying of the carriage. She was eight. Haruto was twelve. He was trying to make a coin disappear in their kitchen.

"Fast hands?" little Hina had asked.

"No," Haruto smiled, that crooked smile that broke hearts. "The secret is making the audience look where you want them to. While they look at the right hand, the left hand does the dirty work. People see what they want to see, Hina. They want to believe."

Hina squeezed her closed hand in her lap.

"Are you okay?" Kaito's voice brought her back.

He, Mei, and Ren were sitting around her. Ren had bought first-class tickets ("It's quieter," he justified), so they had space.

"I am," Hina lied, then corrected herself. "I'm scared."

"That's normal," Mei said, holding her hand. "But we're here."

The trip took forty minutes, but it felt like a lifetime. When they disembarked at Tokyo Station, the city seemed too big, too loud. A monster of neon and concrete.

Ren guided the group. He knew the way to Teito University Hospital.

The hospital was immense, a glass tower reflecting the cloudy sky. In the lobby, the smell of antiseptic was stronger than at the principal's hospital. It was the smell of serious cases. Of last hopes.

They went up to the seventh floor. Neurology.

Hina asked her friends to wait in the hallway. She needed to make the final walk alone.

As she walked down the silent corridor, a nurse came out of a room with a tray of medication. She stopped when she saw Hina. Her eyes widened.

"You're Hina, aren't you?" the nurse asked. She was young, pretty, with her hair in a practical bun.

Hina stopped, surprised.

"Yes. How do you know?"

The nurse gave a sad smile.

"You have his eyes."

She looked at the door to room 704.

"I'm Emi. Haruto and I... we dated a few times, in high school. Before he came to Tokyo. Before... all this."

Hina felt a tightness in her chest. Haruto had never talked about girlfriends.

"He talked about you a lot," Emi said, her voice soft. "He said his little sister was the only person who really saw through his tricks. He said he wanted to protect you from the world."

"He didn't succeed," Hina whispered.

"Maybe not," Emi said. "But he tried. He's a good kid, Hina. He just got lost."

Emi touched Hina's shoulder and went on her way.

Hina took a deep breath and opened the door to room 704.

The room was in semi-darkness. The rhythmic, mechanical sound of the ventilator was the only music. And there, on the bed, was Haruto.

He was thinner than she remembered. His hair was long, spread over the pillow. But the face was the same. The face that had taught her to ride a bike, that had defended her from bullies, that had lied to her about magic.

Hina approached. She didn't cry. She had cried all her tears months ago.

"Hi, idiot," she said.

Haruto didn't answer.

Hina looked at the ring on her finger. Silver. Cold. Heavy.

"I fixed the school," she told him, as if he could hear. "I took down a corrupt vice-principal. I healed an old lady. I made friends, Haruto. Real friends. Not the audience you said I needed to fool."

She reached out and touched her brother's forehead.

Direct Touch.

She closed her eyes and pushed.

She tried to send luck. Healing. Life. She channeled everything she had, all the energy left from healing the principal, all her will.

Wake up. Please, wake up.

But there was no heat. There was no golden light.

It was like pushing a steel wall. The ring remained cold. Haruto's mind was locked away, far away, in a place where luck didn't reach.

Hina tried again. And again. Until her arms shook. Until she felt like she was going to pass out again.

Nothing. The monitor's beep continued in the same monotonous rhythm.

Hina let go of his forehead. She stepped back, panting.

Failed. The ring couldn't do everything.

She looked at the object on her finger. The source of all the chaos and all the solutions of the last few weeks.

"You said the secret was making people look where we want them to," Hina said, her voice choked. "Well, I stopped looking at the ring, Haruto. I'm looking at my life now."

She pulled the ring off her finger.

The sense of loss was immediate, as if she had torn off a piece of her own soul. The world got a little grayer, a little louder, a little scarier. She felt human again. Weak. Vulnerable.

But then she remembered Kaito holding his easels. Mei facing her fear. Ren apologizing.

She didn't need the ring to be strong.

Hina took Haruto's pale, limp hand. Carefully, she slid the silver ring onto her brother's ring finger.

It fit perfectly.

"I don't need this anymore," she whispered, kissing his forehead. "But maybe you do. Keep the luck, big brother. Use it to find your way back."

She stood there for a moment longer, etching his face into her memory.

"Bye, Haruto."

Hina turned and walked out of the room. She didn't look back.

In the hallway, Kaito, Mei, and Ren jumped up when they saw her.

"So?" Ren asked, anxiety breaking his mask of coolness. "Did it work?"

Hina looked at them. She felt light. Empty, but light.

"No," she said.

Mei's face fell. Kaito looked like he was going to cry.

"Hina, I'm so sorry..." Kaito began.

"Don't be," Hina smiled, and it was a sad but genuine smile. "I did what I had to do. I returned what was his. Now... now it's up to him."

She draped her arm around Mei's shoulders and pulled Kaito close.

"Let's go," Hina said. "I'm starving, and I heard Tokyo ramen is the best in the world. Ren is paying."

"Hey!" Ren protested, but he was smiling as he followed them to the elevator.

The "Reject Club," the Resistance, the friends, stepped into the elevator. The doors closed, taking them back to life, to school, to the future.

Room 704 fell silent again.

The afternoon light began to fade, painting the white walls orange and purple. The ventilator continued its rhythm: hiss, click, hiss.

On the bed, Haruto's hand rested on the white sheet.

On his ring finger, the silver ring caught the last ray of sun of the day. It shone. An intense glow, not silver, but a deep, warm gold.

Haruto's finger twitched.

And then, slowly, the hand closed into a fist.

END