Chapter 5

9. INT. ENA’S ROOM – NIGHT MAKOTO enters the room, ENA and ICHIKA pulling him by his hands. ENA and ICHIKA chatter excitedly. A Christmas feast complete with roast turkey is laid out on the table. MAKOTO Where did all this food come from? ENA and ICHIKA proudly reveal that they worked together to make everything from scratch. MAKOTO is impressed. ICHIKA says that there’s even a homemade Christmas cake waiting in the kitchen for dessert. AOI grumbles about the ridiculous amount of butter it must have in it, but she looks happy. TSUBASA Well, Makoto’s here, so we’re all set. Let’s have a toast. ICHIKA We have a bottle of Chanmery, too, if anyone wants a fizzy drink. ENA Ooh, but I’ve got something better. ENA whips out a bottle of champagne. AOI jumps in. AOI Hey, not so fast. That’s definitely off-limits. ENA pouts in disappointment while ICHIKA and TSUBASA crack up at AOI’s flustered reaction. MAKOTO watches over them with a tender smile. (N.B. This is just one possible scenario. Don’t feel you have to follow the script word for word. Act natural and go with the flow.) 1 December 24, 6:00 PM Makoto arrived at Ena’s place, and for the first time in weeks, all five of us from the filmmaking club were in the same place. Ena’s family was out, so we were alone in the house. Ena and Ichika swept Makoto along through the house to Ena’s room, where a feast crowded the table, and our party was off to a lively start. Ichika doled out plates for everyone. Ena was about to take advantage of the occasion to pull out a bottle of champagne she’d found in the house, but Aoi did everything she could to stop her. Makoto was looking around at everyone with an affectionate smile. When our gazes met, there was a happy gleam deep in his eyes. Before I knew it, I was leaning close to him and whispering in his ear, “It looks like it’s going to be a fun Christmas Eve.” “Yeah,” he said, gazing at me. I could tell that he was getting emotional. Relieved to see that he wasn’t anxious about anything, I said, “I’m just going to pop to the bathroom—back in a minute,” and left the room. I took out my phone in the hallway to message Makoto’s mom. The screen lit up, displaying the date and time: January 18, 6:21 PM Makoto seemed to have no doubt that it was Christmas Eve, and I felt a wave of relief wash over me. I sent a brief message to Makoto’s mom to let her know how things were going, put away my phone, then went back into Ena’s room as my thoughts turned back to that autumn day I’d found Makoto in his hospital room. “What’s…going on?” I’d blurted out. There was Makoto, asleep in a hospital bed when he should have been home getting ready for his move. Aoi had been pretending to be Makoto, replying to my texts for him. My head was spinning with questions. I didn’t understand why Makoto was in the hospital. He wasn’t in a normal ward for minor injuries or illnesses, either, but a private ward with special facilities. “I thought Makoto just had insomnia,” I said. Aoi looked back at me in silence. After a long pause, she reluctantly replied, “Sorry. That’s not exactly true.” “Then, what…?” “Ever heard of narcolepsy? It pops up in movies sometimes. That’s actually what Tsukishima has. He spontaneously falls asleep…but he’s working hard to get it cured.” “Aoi!” I stepped closer. My childhood friend was trying to explain calmly, but I had my doubts. “You’re hiding something, aren’t you?” “What do you mean?” “That’s not what he has, is it?” Without thinking, I grabbed the sleeve of her school uniform. “It can’t be. Tell me, Aoi. What’s happening to Makoto?” Aoi looked away. “I’m not lying. He’s been suffering from a disease that makes him suddenly fall asleep—” “Then you could’ve told me that a long time ago. Why were you keeping it a secret? So I wouldn’t worry about him? You’ve even been messaging me as him to make it look like he’s really there…” If Makoto had an illness that simply made him fall asleep, they wouldn’t have gone so far to hide it from me. They could have told me everything; I would’ve been surprised, but that wouldn’t have made me worry excessively or hate him. Instead, Makoto and Aoi had gone out of their way to keep his condition hidden—which could mean only one thing. “Makoto’s sickness… Is it really bad?” I asked quietly, letting go of her sleeve. Aoi looked at me. “Not particularly.” “Liar.” “I’m not lying.” “Then…why do you look like you’re about to cry?” Startled, Aoi wiped her eyes and looked away again. Aoi was a more compassionate person than even she realized. But it was because of that empathy that she could pick up on subtle hints of cruelty and malice in the world. That was why she pretended to be more indifferent than she really was—to make herself appear invulnerable. She’d always been kind at heart, ever since we were back in elementary school. She’d adored her father, and when he disappeared, I’d found her crying in secret in a park. “The air’s too dry in here,” she’d told me. “My eyes got dehydrated. That’s all.” Thinking back, that was the moment I swore to always stay by her side. I would be there for this girl, who was so kind and generous, but who never gave away her weakness in front of others. “Aoi…” “What?” “You’ve always looked after us. You protected us from weird grown-ups and creeps who approached us with bad intentions… I’m guessing you’re doing the same thing now, covering up Makoto’s illness. You’re shielding us from something, right? But I want to know the truth—please.” Aoi didn’t back down so quickly. She kept avoiding my gaze, staring down at the floor in silence. But she had to crack at some point. It couldn’t have been easy for her to carry the burden of Makoto’s secret by herself. Eventually, something glimmered in the corners of her eyes and fell down her cheeks. It had been a long time since I’d seen her cry so openly. Without bothering to wipe the tears away, she told me what was going on. I stared at the movement of her lips. Rain continued to pour outside. When Aoi finished speaking, I could only stand, stock-still, in a daze. “What…?” She’d told me that Tsukishima was sick, but I knew that already—he was suffering from some type of disease. And then she’d told me more. “His doctor told him back in March that he only had one year left to live…” Makoto…only had a year to live? I was completely bewildered. Aoi turned to look at me, her tears dry now. She seemed to have made up her mind to tell me everything. She told me again that the doctor had given him this diagnosis in March. She explained how his symptoms of losing consciousness had started to appear around summer break, how she’d noticed it, and how they’d worked together since then to do everything they could to keep it a secret. All their efforts had been for the single purpose of not making me grieve for him. I was shaken. Denying the truth was the only way I could keep from breaking down. “That can’t be true,” I exclaimed desperately. “Makoto didn’t show any signs—” “He’s been doing all he can to hide it from you, Tsubasa. People’s views of the world are shaped by their own perceptions. As long as you don’t notice Tsukishima’s illness, it doesn’t exist in your world,” she said in an unwavering tone. The moments I’d spent with Makoto whirled around my head in mute succession—when he’d confessed his feelings for me, when we’d started making movies together, when we became something more than friends… Through all those months, Makoto had been suffering from this illness. He had been keeping it hidden from everyone, just like the protagonist of our movie, so that he wouldn’t make me sad. That was why he’d even come up with that lie about moving overseas… Once Aoi’s story had sunk in, I looked over at Makoto, who was still asleep in the bed. Before I knew it, I was reaching out to touch his hand. It was warm. He was breathing, his chest slowly rising and falling. He was alive. But in a few months, he’d be gone. It felt too unreal to me. An invisible weight pressed down on my body. What kind of scene would this be if it were a film? I wished so badly that this all could have just been a movie. But it was the truth: an all-too-painful, suffocating reality. “So, that time…when I found Makoto asleep in the clubroom, it wasn’t insomnia.” “Sorry for lying to you. It was a symptom of his disease; the nurse and I hid it from you.” Realizing just how much Aoi had been protecting me, I didn’t even know what to think anymore. “So, what are you going to do, Tsubasa?” The world kept moving forward, whether my brain was at a standstill or not. The clock kept ticking relentlessly; the sand kept trickling down the hourglass. “What do you mean?” I asked back, my eyes glued to the floor. “It’s my fault you found out…but now that you know what Tsukishima’s really going through, you have to make a choice.” “A choice…?” “Are you going to tell Tsukishima that you know his secret? Or…are you going to pretend not to know? We’ll have to figure out how to handle this from here on out, so you better decide soon, before he wakes up.” I could feel myself getting pulled into their secret; I wasn’t a bystander anymore. I was too confused to make up my mind at first. I asked Aoi if I could have some time to think about it here in the room, but she said we should go somewhere else, since we didn’t know when Makoto would stir. I told her I wanted to have Makoto in front of me as I made my decision so I could see his current condition with my own two eyes. “Okay. I’ll give you my visitor’s pass, so keep it on you. If Tsukishima wakes up while you’re still here…what happens next is up to you.” Aoi left, leaving me alone with Makoto. I sat down in the chair by the bed and gazed at him. It was still raining—both outside and inside the room. The drops fell on my hands, which lay clasped in my lap. It still felt unreal that Makoto was going to die, but I couldn’t deny the proof all around me: the patient’s ward; Makoto’s sleeping form; the tears of my childhood friend; the dark shadow I’d sensed in Makoto, even though he should have been just another high schooler living a normal, peaceful life. Makoto must have been suffering more than anyone else, but he had gone so far as to lie just so I wouldn’t be sad. By pretending to move abroad, he was trying to fade out of my life and become a part of my past. But now, I’d discovered his secret. If I told him that, he wouldn’t have to keep up his lies anymore. He wouldn’t have to disappear from my life so soon. That way, we could be together till the very end. I thought that was the best choice. Except…it was only the best choice from my perspective. Aoi’s words echoed in my mind and weighed me down like stones: “People’s views of the world are shaped by their own perceptions. As long as you don’t notice Tsukishima’s illness, it doesn’t exist in your world.” Aoi had touched on the subtle difference between the truth and the reality you perceive. How would Makoto feel if I told him I’d found out about his sickness? All this time, Makoto had been doing whatever he could to protect our little world—the world in which I didn’t know about his condition. Even now, when he was blacking out more often, he was still trying desperately to maintain it. Would telling him the truth really be the right thing to do? Was it right for me to destroy that world he was trying so hard to protect, just because I wanted to be with him until the very end? Just because of my selfish idea that deep down, he must be wishing for the same thing? It’s probably when you accept that you’re about to die that you reveal your true nature. In Makoto’s case, he always put me first, even when he was the one in pain; that was just the kind of person he was. He was someone who could care about others around him until his last breath. It was the essential truth of his life—the life he’d lived as Makoto Tsukishima. I clenched my fists tight and gazed at Makoto. The world was full of uncertainties, ambiguities, innumerable right answers. I wanted to live like Makoto in this world of ours—to become someone who could care about others even on the brink of death. I wanted to ease Makoto’s suffering. It was clear which path I had to choose—I had to prioritize Makoto’s wishes, not mine. I wouldn’t let him be the only one burdened by lies, but I would carry my own with me everywhere I went. Instead of letting him protect me all the time, I’d be the one to protect his world. I decided to pretend not to have found out about Makoto’s secret. I was sure that was the right answer for me. Once I’d made up my mind, the rest was easy. I just had to put it into action and make sure the truth never came out. With fresh resolve, I gazed at Makoto again. But my feelings were trying to trick me—my field of vision started misting over. Protecting Makoto’s lies meant I couldn’t be with him up to the very end of his life. I wondered if I could be forgiven for showing my true feelings just in this moment, when Makoto was still asleep. Promising myself that this would be the first and last time, I stood up and went closer to the bed. I laid my head on Makoto’s chest. Sobs racked my body from deep within my throat, and I couldn’t control myself anymore. Before I knew it, I was weeping violently. Even now, I couldn’t be selfless like Makoto—deep down I wished that Makoto would wake up from the sound of my crying. If he opened his eyes now, he’d be startled to find me here, but he would realize what had happened and wrap me in his arms. If he embraced me like that, I would tell him that I wanted to be with him to the very end, even if that meant going back on what I’d already decided. But Makoto wasn’t asleep. He didn’t wake up no matter how much I wept. He didn’t give me his shy smile no matter how many times I told him I loved him and that I needed him. I gasped between sobs like a little child, my chest shuddering—but eventually, my tears dried up, and I left the room to tell Aoi my decision. 2 The next day, Makoto showed up at the clubroom after school as if nothing had happened. And I talked to him just as I always did. I teased him, laughed with him, and we went about filming together. When it was time to go home, I suppressed the urge to follow him and didn’t confuse him by asking to stay with him longer. Aoi knew my decision already. When I’d told her, she simply said, “Got it.” With her answering from Makoto’s account, we exchanged a few texts so he wouldn’t get suspicious. Even when he was unconscious, we kept messaging each other as we’d done before so he would feel at ease when he woke up. Whenever Makoto and I had the chance to be together, we spent our time laughing and having as much fun as possible. Every second, every moment I spent with him was precious. The more I thought about the end, the more I cherished the time we had now. Then, one day just before December, Makoto came to the clubroom after a long absence and made his announcement. “My parents had to reschedule our move, so we’ll be leaving Japan before the end of the year.” He explained that he wouldn’t be able to come to school anymore—that this would be his last day at the club. Aoi had warned me about this in advance, and we’d already gone over how we’d react to the news. Ena and Ichika, who didn’t know the whole story, were genuinely disappointed. Makoto looked at everyone, one at a time, as if he didn’t want to leave. Finally, he turned to me. “You’ve done so much for us, Makoto. Thank you.” I managed to say what I had to. I forced myself to say good-bye with a smile to protect Makoto’s world. I was a bit awkward and felt myself tensing up a bit—unlike the natural performances that I demanded from my actors—but Aoi helped me out, and once everyone laughed, things were back to normal. Makoto seemed relieved to see my reaction. His last club meeting went by without a hitch—except for one thing that neither Aoi nor I had predicted. Ena invited Makoto to our Christmas Eve party. Since Makoto couldn’t make any promises, I thought he would decline, but he said he’d let us know on the day if he thought he could make it. We took a group photo and parted ways at the school gate. Makoto and I walked to the park together, hand in hand. We didn’t let go of each other the whole time we were sitting on the park bench. I couldn’t help but think about how he would be gone soon and keep squeezing his hand. I felt the warmth of his hand as he squeezed mine back. “The stars we see in the sky are actually light from the past,” he told me, gazing up at the sky. He sounded a bit sentimental, which was unusual for him. He told me that the starlight we could see had been emitted eons ago, reaching out through time toward us. Though it made me sad to hear him talk about the past, I held back my tears. I didn’t cry in front of Makoto—neither at the park nor at the train station. But as I watched his train go, I broke down. Standing alone on the platform, I was overcome by my own feelings. I wept noiselessly, biting back sobs. Makoto never came to school again. His homeroom teacher had apparently announced that he had to move away earlier than expected, and I overheard some people in my class talking about it, too. People started to move on after a few days, though. I started skipping classes, going up to the rooftop to gaze at the sky. All I could think about was whether Makoto had been happy. Aoi visited Makoto often to let me know how he was doing. She told me he was living a quiet life in a hospital ward cut off from the rest of society. But he hadn’t forgotten about his promise to see us on Christmas Eve. She told me that he was holding on to it as his final wish. It was my wish, too—that I might get a chance to see Makoto again one last time while I kept his lie a secret. It was three days before Christmas Eve when Makoto went into a long coma. With end-of-term exams out of the way, I was editing the film we were going to submit to the Eiga Koushien Competition. I’d been counting down the days to Christmas Eve, hoping against hope that our wish would come true. But three days before the party, when the term’s closing ceremony was just around the corner, Aoi brought me the news. “Tsukishima…might not make it to the party.” She told me he was unconscious. I had an idea, though. “Wait—we don’t have to have the party on Christmas Eve, do we? We could do it on Christmas Day, or the day after that.” We could just talk to Ena and Ichika to move the party to a day when Makoto could make it—it was as simple as that. As for Makoto, we could let him know that we’d pushed back the date because I needed more time for postproduction on the film. That way, he’d definitely be able to make the party. We could be together one last time. I thought Aoi would agree, but her face clouded over. “I talked to his parents… They told me he might be in the terminal stage of his illness now. So he might not wake up again for a while.” I stared at Aoi, my eyes widening in surprise. “There’s a chance that he might be out for a month or so. He might not wake up until January,” she said. That day, after school, Aoi and I went to Makoto’s room in the hospital. Aoi had told his parents beforehand that we were coming, so they were waiting for us in the lounge of the ward. It was the first time I’d met them. They’d already heard the whole story from Aoi. His mother and father both bowed to me gratefully, thanking me for going along with Makoto’s lie. I immediately bowed back to them. I introduced myself and asked them for more details about how he was doing now. Since it was a rare disease, there was very little data to go off, but even so, it was almost certain that Makoto had entered the terminal phase. Just as Aoi had said, he wouldn’t regain consciousness during December. “Our son was really looking forward to the party, too. But…something tells me he knew it would be difficult for him to make it,” Makoto’s dad said with a hesitant grin. The way he smiled reminded me of Makoto. “Both of you have been doing so much to support him, and we’re incredibly grateful for that. If you could send him some messages when he’s awake again, just as you normally would, I’m sure he’d be content with that.” Aoi nodded in response. “When he’s awake, I’ll tell him about the party and how everyone was sorry he couldn’t come. And maybe the four of us could write messages for him in a Christmas card. He’d love it, I bet.” His parents were happy to hear Aoi’s suggestion. Aoi started going into the details of her plan. I listened to the discussion without saying anything. Aoi was right—Makoto would probably be really happy to get a card from everyone. He’d known from the beginning that he might not be able to come to the party himself. He must’ve been prepared for that. But still…that ending was unbearably sad to me. I was racking my brain for something more we could do for Makoto, but I couldn’t think of anything. After our talk with his parents, Aoi and I went to see Makoto, asleep in his hospital bed. The room he’d been in before was nice, too, but this room felt different. The interior had a calming effect, and soft light streamed in through the window. Choosing her words carefully, Aoi explained to me that this was a special ward where patients who had no chance of recovery could spend their remaining days in peace. The ward seemed to be fulfilling its purpose; it felt cocooned in a sort of restful tranquility. I noticed there were no TVs anywhere in the ward. Since phones were allowed, Makoto could still message me when he was awake, and I could see his phone lying near his bedside. Aoi saw me looking at it and picked it up. “You owe me big-time, so I’m sure you won’t mind if I borrow this for a sec,” she said to Makoto, who was still asleep. She held up the phone to show me his lock screen. It was a group photo of our club that we’d taken before autumn had set in. It hit me just how much Makoto cared about us, and my eyes misted over. That wasn’t the only photo Aoi wanted to show me. She put in the passcode to unlock his phone. I was shocked to see she knew the code, but I was even more surprised by what was on his home screen. It was a photo of me. And not just any photo—but one where I looked like a total weirdo. It was from our first date. I had on a pair of party shades with a big nose and bushy mustache attached, and I was grinning at the person taking the photo. I remembered asking him to take that one. Did he really have to choose this one, out of all our photos? was the first thought that went through my head, but maybe it really was the best one. It was a picture of an ordinary, peaceful day. There was no hint of death’s shadow, no illness, no lies or truths or realities. Nothing to worry about. Just a chill, stress-free day. I felt the prick of tears in my eyes. I wasn’t sure, but I had the feeling that photo hadn’t been on his home screen before. He must’ve changed it after started living in the hospital full-time. There were only a few apps on the screen, maybe to make the photo easier to see. No, even that was an understatement—he hardly had any apps left on his phone. “Tsukishima said he doesn’t want to see what’s going on outside,” Aoi said, noticing my confusion. I turned toward her. “How come?” “Well…maybe because he feels it’s not relevant to him anymore. I guess it’s painful for him to know what’s happening in the world—since he doesn’t have a future anymore.” I was stunned by Aoi’s words. I felt bitter anger toward the world that had hurt Makoto so much, but there was nothing anyone could do about that. So he had cut nearly all ties to the outside world… As I stood there frozen, Aoi gave a humorless laugh, as if she was trying to dispel our helpless frustration. “Still, I think we’ve got to give our all to do what we can do,” she said. “Maybe we should head back to the clubroom—Ena and Ichika are helping with the editing. If we go back now, we’d still have time to make a bit of progress. Tsukishima made the movie with us, after all—imagine if we missed the deadline for Eiga Koushien. We wouldn’t be able to look him in the face.” Aoi was trying her best to brighten up the mood. I cracked a smile in response. Since Makoto’s parents had given us permission to visit him whenever we liked, all we had to do was sign in at reception to come and see him. I told Makoto I’d be back soon, and we walked through the silence of the hallway. “Oh, look, an airplane trail,” Aoi said, peering up through the window. I followed her gaze. A single vapor trail drew a lonely line across the sky. We took in the quiet scene, surrounded by silence. This ward was protected from all kinds of noise—not just literal noise, but information. Nothing was brought in from the world outside, to shield patients from any source of pain. Without a phone, you might even lose track of what day it was. I felt a rush as something whipped through my body. It was one of those sensations you’d call a flash of inspiration or a gut feeling. I stopped in my tracks as if I were pinned to the spot by my idea. Aoi turned around, puzzled. “What’s up, Tsubasa?” I didn’t even answer her as I chased that little spark deeper into my mind. What did I just think of? What fleeting idea had I brushed up against? I urgently traced back my thoughts, desperate not to let it slip from my grasp. It was a feeling I’d experienced many times before while making films. Makoto. Phone. Christmas Eve. Something we can do for Makoto. Apps. A place cut off from the rest of the world. Losing track of days. I was intensely focused going over my train of thought when something clicked. That’s it. I’d pinned down just where that inspiration had come from. Next, I started unraveling it in logical steps. Was it even feasible? I couldn’t tell. But it had to be worth a try. Even if it would be impossible to pull off by myself, with everyone’s help, it might just be doable. Maybe there was something more we could do for Makoto after all. “How about we turn whatever day Makoto wakes up into Christmas Eve?” “Uh…what?” Aoi looked at me dubiously. “What are you talking about, Tsubasa?” My heart was racing wildly. I was concentrating so hard that my head was throbbing. I didn’t want to let this idea go—I couldn’t let it go. This might be the whole reason I’d kept creating films all my life. “There’s no TV in Makoto’s ward—not even in the lounge. And there’s practically no apps on Makoto’s phone because he doesn’t want to see what’s happening in the world. Right?” “Yeah…,” Aoi said carefully, processing my words and trying to figure out where I was going with them. This kind of back-and-forth was familiar to us; it was like those times when I would suddenly suggest an alternative idea just as we were about to finish a film. “And…remember what Ichika said before, when we were brainstorming ideas for our next movie? About time stamps on the messaging app being linked to the device itself?” Aoi nodded. Though we’d have to double-check, it should be possible to purposely adjust the dates on messages by setting the phone to a different date. That meant we could trick Makoto into thinking the date was December 24, regardless of when he actually woke up. I was trying to figure out a realistic way to pull that off. It didn’t matter whether it was January for everyone else. As long as Makoto believed it, that day would turn into Christmas Eve. Once again, it was the difference between the reality someone believed and the truth. There were a number of obstacles we had to overcome, but it was by no means impossible to coordinate everything. We just had to change back the date of the phone to the correct one the next time Makoto lost consciousness. As I rattled off my ideas, Aoi listened closely. “So, Tsubasa. What you’re suggesting is…” I thought Aoi would reject my idea, but she calmly backed me up with helpful comments. When something was unclear, she asked questions; she was breaking down my scheme in her own terms. To talk about it in more depth, we headed to the café inside the hospital. There were a number of things we had to check, including whether it was really possible to adjust the time stamps. Putting our heads together, we refined our ideas and came up with a feasible plan. Since Aoi knew Makoto’s passcode already, that wasn’t a problem. When everything lined up, and we were sure it could work, our eyes met with excitement. Trying to stay calm, we went through the steps we would have to take to put our plan into action. Though there were more problems to smooth over, none of them were insurmountable; as long as we dealt with them ahead of time, they were manageable. For our plan to work, though, we’d need outside help. We had to ask for the hospital to go along with it, and we would also have no choice but to tell Ena and Ichika about Makoto’s condition. Most important of all, we needed Makoto’s parents to lend us a hand. We decided to give ourselves some time to mull it over, so we each went back home to gather our thoughts. Aoi texted me at around nine o’clock that night: “This just might work.” It bolstered my confidence to know that Aoi was on board, too. She arranged for us to meet with Makoto’s parents, and we visited their house the following day in the early evening to tell them about our idea. With Aoi’s help, I somehow managed to stay calm and collected as I told his parents the whole plan. Though my explanation might have been missing some pieces, his parents understood what we were trying to do. But they were hesitant. “Are you sure you want to do this? It must be hard on you both,” his mom said with a pained smile. “Don’t worry about us. We’d gladly lie to our son if it’s in his best interest. I’d do anything for him as long as it doesn’t harm other people. I’d happily throw myself on the ground and beg. But…you don’t have to make those same sorts of sacrifices. Even if you’re used to acting in movies, I’m afraid you’d only be hurting yourselves this way.” I listened patiently for her to finish, then said my piece. I told her that we were willing to prioritize Makoto over ourselves. It was Makoto who had shown me how to live like that—to put others first. If I told Ena and Ichika about everything Makoto had done for us all this whole time, I was sure they would feel the same. When I shared those thoughts with her, Makoto’s mom seemed to drift somewhere else, her eyes fixed on a single point on the table. I guessed she was thinking about her son, who was lying unconscious in the hospital as we spoke. Makoto’s dad, meanwhile, had been silent the whole time, deep in thought. Eventually, he said, “My son…used to get sick often when he was young, so it was hard for him to connect with the other kids.” He looked straight at us. “I’d always hoped that he’d find good friends. But now I see I didn’t have to worry about that at all. I can’t tell you how happy it makes me to know that he’s surrounded by friends and a girlfriend who care so much about him.” Makoto had once told me that I reminded him of his dad because I was so innocent and full of life. But in that moment, I realized that had probably been a front his dad had been keeping up on purpose. The man sitting in front of me now seemed gentle, thoughtful, and loving; he cared for his son more than anyone else. In the end, his parents agreed to our plan on two conditions: first, that we should never push ourselves too hard, and second, that if any one of us felt like it was too much to bear, she should feel free to call off the plan. Once that was settled, everything else went quickly. The next day was the closing ceremony of second term, and we asked Ena and Ichika to meet us in the clubroom first thing in the morning. Aoi and I told them about Makoto. We went over everything—not only his illness, his present condition, and how much time he had left, but also what we were planning to do despite that reality. They were both shaken by the news and struggled to take it in. But once they’d been able to process it and accept the facts, they were eager to support us. They wanted to see Makoto right away, so as soon as the closing ceremony was over, we all went to the hospital together. Ichika was shocked to see Makoto in his sickbed, and she burst into tears. Ena stared at him, too emotional to react. “So Makoto was the protagonist,” she murmured. It wasn’t just for my sake that Makoto had been hiding his condition; he’d been thinking about everyone he’d come in contact with, including Ena and Ichika. After letting the two of them in on our scheme, we had to ask the hospital for help, too. For that side of things, Makoto’s parents and doctor backed us up. It helped that Makoto was in a ward where special emphasis was placed on psychological care, limiting patients’ contact with the outside world as much as possible. The hospital agreed to cooperate with us so that when Makoto woke up, he wouldn’t accidentally see the real date on wall calendars or documents. Of course, the best-case scenario was for Makoto to wake up on Christmas Eve or Christmas Day. There was still a slim chance of that. I spent the afternoon of Christmas Eve in Makoto’s room. If he woke up to find me sitting next to him, he might be rattled, but I had an excuse ready. I was still determined to protect his lies. As I gazed at him, I kept imagining him opening his eyes. I’d let everyone know and take Makoto out of the hospital so we could all meet up for our party. So we could laugh together again. But Makoto didn’t open his eyes. He lay as still as ever, oblivious to my presence. He slept through Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. And the day after that, and the day after that, too. I waited until the night of the twenty-eighth, and when he still showed no sign of stirring, I made up my mind. I picked up his phone, quietly apologizing to him for using it without his permission. I changed the date of the device and turned off automatic updates. His phone now displayed the date: December 23. From that day on, changing the date on Makoto’s phone to December 23 became a daily routine for me. I helped the nurses give him regular massages so Makoto would be strong enough to walk when he woke up. Ena and Ichika also pitched in, as did Aoi, though not without complaint. By then, we had somehow managed to submit our latest film to the Eiga Koushien Competition. It was all thanks to Aoi, who told me to leave the rest to her this time and holed up in the clubroom as soon as winter break started to wrap up editing. As the end of the year approached and the festive mood swept over the world, I visited Makoto every day. Each night, before I left, I set the date on his phone to December 23. I thought about the day Makoto would wake up and made a flowchart of the how it might go. I wrote it out like a screenplay and showed it to Aoi. We talked it over with Ena and Ichika, too, perfecting our scheme. On New Year’s Eve, we stopped by Makoto’s room, then went to a temple to strike the bell at midnight. In the morning, we met up again to visit a shrine for the first time in the new year. We made offerings and put our hands in prayer, and though none of us talked about what we’d wished for, I think we were all praying for Makoto. Still, he didn’t wake up. The New Year holidays were over, and soon after winter break also came to an end. Yet Makoto remained in his coma. We were waiting with bated breath for Makoto to come back, so each day seemed to drag on. Despite this, it was easy to lose track of how long it had been. The first two weeks of January had already gone, and we were currently in the third. I had to come up with an idea for our next film, but all I could think about was Makoto. I wasn’t the only one distracted—all of us in the filmmaking club were. Even when we had our club meetings, our minds wandered elsewhere. We just killed time looking at our phones, reading books, or staring out at the sky. Was Makoto really going to wake up? His disease was incredibly rare, and only a few people had ever suffered from it before, so it was hard to say anything definitive. There was even the possibility that he might never wake up. It was right around the time those fears started gnawing at me that I got a message from Makoto’s mom. 3 I’d woken up early that day and was sitting with a cup of coffee in my room, gazing absentmindedly out the window. I enjoyed watching the morning take shape—shafts of light streamed into the quiet, blue world, cars and motorbikes started making their way down roads, and the azure sky gradually paled to white. It was the beginning of a new day. I’d already switched off sleep mode on my phone, and it pinged with a new message. I picked it up, guessing it was from Aoi, but it wasn’t—it was from Makoto’s mom. “Makoto is awake.” Just three simple words, but I had never wanted to hear something more in my whole life. For a split second, I couldn’t move—but I replied immediately. She told me that Makoto didn’t suspect anything; he fully believed that he had woken up on December 24. I hurriedly texted everyone in the club to spread the news. Every time my phone buzzed, I saw how excited they were. Makoto messaged me, too: “Turns out I can come to the party tonight.” He had been asleep for almost a month, but he wrote to me as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Well, this was true enough for Makoto—for him, his latest blackout wasn’t so different from all the others he’d had. Our wish to be with him one last time had caused that. I replied, matching his casual tone, then hurried to start putting everything together for that night. I’d already told my parents about Makoto and our plan. It was an ordinary weekday, but I headed to Ena’s house instead of going to school. I’d reminded everyone to speak out if they felt like it was too much of a burden on them—but Ena and even Ichika took the day off to get ready for the party. We decked out Ena’s room and cooked up a Christmas feast. Meanwhile, Makoto’s parents and doctor kept him company. Aoi went to see him in the afternoon, too. She stayed by his side as much as possible, and she reported back to us that there seemed to be no doubt in his mind that it was actually Christmas Eve. The sun set, and time ticked down to Makoto’s arrival. His dad was supposed to drive him to Ena’s house. We’d given him a recording we made from the radio on Christmas Eve, and he played it during the ride. We’d even planned out the route he would take, avoiding busy main streets so Makoto wouldn’t be confused by the lack of Christmas lights, and made sure he wouldn’t see the real date anywhere, including on billboards. Aoi sent us regular updates that everything was going according to plan. And finally, Makoto was here, standing just outside Ena’s house. There was no reason to be nervous. We just had to have fun. That was the natural thing to do. The doorbell rang, and Ena answered it. We huddled around the front door, waiting for it to open. I was trying to calm my nerves when I heard Ena call my name. “Hey, Tsubasa.” “What’s up, Ena?” “Wanna say what you always say before we start rolling? Once we hear that, we can do anything.” I was puzzled at first, but I soon caught on. “Sure,” I said with a grin. I took a deep breath. “All righty, here we go. Roll camera. Roll sound… Action!” A few seconds later, the door opened, and we popped our crackers. A startled boy stared out at us from the other side of the door. It felt surreal to see him right there in front of us—Makoto, wide-awake. “Merry Christmas, Makoto,” I said, smiling at him, and his face filled with joy. “Merry Christmas, Minami,” he said back, flashing that smile I’d missed so much. The night was as lively as one of our wrap parties. Makoto was the only one who didn’t know the real date, but that wasn’t a problem; Ena and Ichika’s acting that today really was Christmas Eve was incredibly convincing, and they happily chatted with Makoto even more than usual. To Makoto, that frenetic energy must’ve seemed like a desire to make the most of their time together before he moved away. Aoi, on the other hand, was her usual self. Sometimes she made sarcastic comments at Makoto, making him smile sheepishly, but that was just the way they were. As for me, I think I managed to stay calm, interacting with him as I normally would. The party was supposed to double as a celebration for the completion of our latest project, so we had a screening for the film we’d submitted to the Eiga Koushien. When the movie ended, we deconstructed it together, going over every detail. We already knew the results of the competition—we found out at the beginning of the year that we hadn’t been chosen for an award—but we were careful not to give that away to Makoto. After that, we ate Ichika’s homemade Christmas cake and had fun playing Ena’s favorite board game. As always, Ena brought out the amazake at some point. Aoi tried to resist her at first, but in the end, she caved, and they roped Ichika in as well. The three of them ended up conked out on the sofa. Just like that first party we had at Ena’s, Makoto and I were the only ones left awake. It was chilly outside, but I invited Makoto out onto the balcony, like last time. We stood side by side, gazing at the starry night sky. Our hands found each other. We didn’t need to say anything; we were perfectly content simply being together in this serene pocket of time. I felt that if I said something like “I had a lot of fun tonight,” then that would signal our time was up. Makoto probably felt the same. So we both stayed silent. As I felt the warmth of his hand, I thought about death. What did it mean to die? What did it mean to disappear from the world? For me, in that moment, it meant that I wouldn’t be able to hold hands with the person I loved. That even if I squeezed his hand, he wouldn’t squeeze mine back. That we would never be able to look into each other’s eyes again. “I’ll never forget about you, Makoto. I promise.” The words slipped out of me before I could stop myself, even though it might give too much away. Still, I could’ve been talking about our separation for all Makoto knew—not his death. Makoto had been gazing at the stars, but now he turned to look at me. After a long pause, he said, “It’s okay if you forget about me.” He gave me a gentle, melancholy smile. “You have so much ahead of you, Minami. Anything can happen. I’m sure you’ll meet lots of people, and you’ll be able to share your movies even more. I’ll always be wishing for your happiness, for your bright future—no matter how far away I am. Always.” I looked back at him, speechless. “Oh, sorry. It sounds like I’m saying good-bye,” he added. “We’ll make movies together again once we’re in college, right?” He put on a cheerful voice, a faint smile crossing his lips. “You know, I actually didn’t think I’d make it today, with all the stuff going on. So I’m really glad I could. I’m glad I have this one last memory…of Japan to take with me. Thank you, Minami.” The expression on Makoto’s face was free of anxiety and regret. He was letting go of his own life, leaving the world behind, with nothing to hold him back. I gave the answer I had to give: “Me too. I hope you take care of yourself overseas.” I had to live his lie to the very end to protect his world. It was the only thing I could do for him… “What’s wrong, Minami?” I thought I’d locked away that self-centered part of me, but here it was, interfering at the moment of truth. My vision blurred, and my eyes filled with tears. I couldn’t stop them from pouring down my face. Stop that, I berated myself. Don’t be selfish. Crying would only serve to make myself feel better. If I could just get a grip on my emotions, I could say what I had to—to respect his wishes. I can do it. I can say good-bye to him. So stop crying. Don’t be such a crybaby. “I love you, Makoto.” I didn’t know what love meant yet. Yet I heard myself say those words as tears streamed down my face. Even if it was nothing more than a word to me—or maybe because it was nothing more than that—I had to tell him, here and now. Love was the only word I had to offer him, the only one I could find in my short life. I wanted to put my feelings into words without holding anything back, no matter how embarrassed I felt to say it or how melodramatic it might sound. Makoto looked surprised. Soon his expression softened into that gentle smile I loved best. I pressed on; I stumbled on some words, and others got stuck in my throat, but I told him how I really felt. I’d had no idea what I was going to say beforehand—it all just came out of me in the moment. “I’ll probably never love anyone as much as I love you, Makoto.” I told him that he was the one who’d taught me how it felt to fall in love, that he was the first person I’d wanted to confess my love to from the bottom of my heart. I told him that he was so kind and gentle and strong, even though he didn’t look it. I told him there was a dark side to him, just like a protagonist in a movie—in fact, he was a protagonist in a movie—and that there were so many things I loved about him that I couldn’t even list them all, even if I made an entire movie about it. I told him that because I loved him so much, I didn’t want to be the one to limit his future. “Let’s break up,” I murmured. I told him that he didn’t have to come back to Japan for college. He could find what he wanted to do anywhere in the world. Both of us could go wherever the world might take us and follow our own paths. “You deserve all the happiness in the world,” I told him. “I hope you have a wonderful future waiting for you.” I might have sounded cruel to Makoto—but I fought through my tears and wrenched the words out of myself. No matter what, I would protect Makoto’s world. Makoto listened quietly, emotion swirling in his eyes, and with a glimmer, something slid down his cheek. It was the first time I’d seen him cry. A few more streaked down, but he nodded slightly a few times. Somehow he managed to give me a smile. “You mean so much to me, too, so I agree—I think we should break up.” “Yeah,” I whispered through quivering lips. “Thank you for everything, Minami. I’m so lucky I met you.” I wished I could throw everything else aside and choose to be with him for as long as possible, but I desperately fought down that impulse. “Me too,” I murmured. We were almost there: the ending that Makoto wished for. “I’ll be hoping for the best for you, too. That you’ll find all the happiness you deserve and a wonderful future ahead. Minami… No, Tsubasa, I love you with all my heart.” For the two of us, this moment was our whole world. We felt free to say all the things we would’ve been too shy to say otherwise. “You finally called me Tsubasa.” “I always wanted to.” “Call me that whenever you remember me. But never forget—you can go make your own world, Makoto.” “You too, Tsubasa. I hope you’ll move on soon and find someone you love more than me.” “Can’t.” “Just try.” And with that, we gave each other a tearful smile. With the stars watching over us, we broke up in the very spot I’d first asked him out. Countless times in the past, I’d made last-minute changes to our movies, and this time was no exception. In the script that Aoi had written, Makoto and I were supposed to drift apart over time, letting our long-distance relationship slowly fade away. Maybe somewhere in the back of my mind, I’d thought this would leave Makoto with a guilty conscience, so I found myself rewriting the script on the spot. Aoi and the others would have to judge whether I’d made the right decision. Wiping away our tears, Makoto and I went back inside to wake up the others. Instead of steady, sleeping breaths, we heard muffled sobs. Ena was turned into the back of the sofa, Ichika had covered her face with her hands, and Aoi’s head was buried in a cushion. Their shoulders were quivering as they choked back sobs. Eventually, Ena and Ichika got to their feet and threw their arms around Makoto, tears streaming down their faces. “Good luck out there,” Ena said. “I’ll never forget you, Makoto,” Ichika promised. Unlike them, Aoi never showed her tears. The only thing she said was “Who do you think you are, flying off like this?” Her face was turned away, and she cried noiselessly. Before we knew it, it was time for Makoto to go back to the hospital, and his dad came to pick him up. We all stood outside the front gate to see Makoto off. He rolled down the passenger’s-seat window to give us one final good-bye. “Thank you so much for today. Bye, everyone.” “Take care, Makoto. Good luck,” I said. “You idiot,” Aoi muttered. “Don’t get suckered in by some blond babe,” joked Ena. “Best of luck, Makoto,” called out Ichika. We all looked on as the car drove off into the distance. And just like that, our story was over. We’d pulled off our plan. “Hey, your makeup’s running all over the place,” Aoi told me, and when I took a second to check, it really was a hot mess. “Well, not as much as mine, though,” Ena said. She was right—her face was covered in smears of black. Up until then, we’d been too wrapped up in the moment to notice, but we finally got a good look at each other and burst out laughing. There was something to smile about waiting at the end of the story, after all. Two months later, during spring vacation, we heard that Makoto had passed away. His mom got in touch with us to share how it had happened; it had been painless, and he’d taken his last breath as if he were just drifting off to sleep. The four of us went together to the wake and the funeral. None of the other students from our school were there—everyone thought Makoto had simply moved away—but the school nurse came to offer her respects. We talked to Makoto’s parents there, too. They told us that Makoto had never stopped believing in our act; he’d never suspected that it had actually been January when we’d had the party or that all of us had known about his illness. Before he lost consciousness for the last time, he’d smiled and told them that he had no regrets whatsoever. It felt wrong to think of someone’s life and death as being cathartic—but I had no regrets. Of course, I wished Makoto never had to die, however, I decided to think that if Makoto had been able to live out his life the way he’d wanted to and pass away without too much suffering, then that was a good thing. That spring, I’d lost the love of my life. Yet even in a world like that, I still felt a desire to keep making films. One day during spring break, I went to the park where Makoto and I had had our first date to capture the world as I saw it from there. I pointed my camera at the sky, the greenery, the leaves rustling in the breeze, the people, the cars passing by, the light, the clouds, the earth, everything. But when I realized that there was one thing I could never catch on film, I couldn’t hold back my tears. I’d been able to protect Makoto’s world, but something had been forever lost from mine. I wept for the loss, tears stinging my eyes. One day, I might get used to this sadness. But at least for now, I wanted to let it all out. As the world blurred around me, I stared at the video I’d just taken, not making a sound. There, on the screen, was a world without Makoto—a world that, despite his absence, was so clear and beautiful.