Episode 1
I would stop by the hospital every day after school.
“Thanks for coming again, Mio,” the soft voice from the bed in the small private room said. There, propped up against the pillows was Shizuku, my dear baby sister. She suffered from an incurable illness and has lived in and out of hospitals ever since her diagnosis years ago.
“How are you feeling today?” I asked, taking a seat beside her.
“Pretty good, actually,” she replied, her smile unwavering despite everything.
While her disease had no known cure, it wasn’t exactly a death sentence either. Whether one’s condition improved or deteriorated was primarily down to luck. Yet in recent days, there had been a noticeable lightness in her demeanor, a sign of recovery, or so I hoped.
“When you’re better, we’ll go out just like old times.” I reached out to gently tuck a strand of her jet-black hair behind her ear.
She giggled slightly, her eyes crinkling in delight. “Sure, when I get better.”
I then launched into a recount of my day, filling her in on the latest school gossip and trends. We then leafed through her favorite fashion magazine, a simple yet precious routine that brought us both joy. Our peaceful moment was interrupted by the ringing of the phone alarm I had set. Glancing at the time, I realized I needed to leave soon for my part-time job. It was a bit early, but I also had some errands to run beforehand. “Okay, well, I should get going,” I told Shizuku.
“Already? Did you change your shift?” She looked up at me, a hint of disappointment in her eyes.
“No, it’s just that I need to do some shopping before work,” I commented, feeling a twinge of guilt.
“Oh, I see,” she said quietly, looking down. “Sorry.”
“Sorry for what, being my adorable baby sister? I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”
With that, I left Shizuku’s room and was promptly accosted by her attending physician. He was a middle-aged doctor, slightly younger than our dad, and one of the finest, according to one of the nurses I’d gotten to know.
“Doctor, hello, did you need Shizuku for something?” I questioned, a bit surprised to see him waiting for me.
“No, Mio, it’s you I was looking for, actually. Could we have a moment, please?” His tone was serious, lacking its usual warmth.
I suppose I could do my shopping tomorrow, I thought, a sense of foreboding creeping over me—since when did good news ever start with a request for private conversation? I quietly agreed and followed him along with the nurse to a secluded consultation room near the reception area.
The nurse gestured for me to sit down, her expression solemn. Across from me, the doctor settled into his chair, his gaze meeting mine with a weighty seriousness. I clutched the hem of my skirt, bracing myself. “Yes?” I inquired.
“It’s about Shizuku,” the doctor began grimly. “I must speak frankly, Mio, I’m in a difficult position. Your parents have requested that I be completely transparent with you, while Shizuku herself has asked that I refrained from disclosing this.”
I felt my chest tighten with anxiety. “Please, tell me.”
He hesitated, choosing his words carefully. “Your sister’s condition is progressing more rapidly than we anticipated.”
My vision went dark. “But…how? She’s been doing so well—I’ve seen it with my own eyes!”
“She’s been making a commendable effort to appear well, especially for you. But the reality is she shouldn’t even be sitting up straight let alone conversing with you.”
“You’re kidding…” I couldn’t believe it. I didn’t want to believe it. But at the same time, a part of me had always sensed something amiss. Every time I sought after Shizuku about her well-being, there was that slight, unnatural pause before her smile emerged. It made sense now—if she was masking her pain with those smiles…
Before I realized it, I found myself grasping the doctor’s white sleeve. “Doctor, please. What exactly is happening to her?”
A sigh escaped his lips. “Well, nothing, as of yet. However, based on her current trajectory, I estimate she may have around three years left.”
The room seemed to sway around me. I teetered on the edge of my seat before the nurse’s swift intervention steadied me. So, this was why she insisted I sit… This fleeting thought was all I had to keep me grounded as my mind raced, processing the doctor’s words. Shizuku, only a year younger than me, might not even live to see her high school graduation…
I bit down on my lip. I knew the grim statistics of her disease—over half of the sufferers don’t survive. There were cases of recovery, none linked to a definitive cure, but still, Shizuku had been stable all this time. She looked fine, on the brink of overcoming this. She couldn’t…decline just like that, right?
Right?
“Doctor, please, there has to be something you can do!” I pleaded. “If you need an organ from me, just take it. Just make her better, please!”
“I’m sorry, Mio. Organ transplants will do her no good, I’m afraid. There’s no known cure at present. There is a trial underway overseas, and a breakthrough could be made in no less than five years, but…”
His expression said it all. Shizuku didn’t have five years. Only a miracle would save her now.
“She doesn’t deserve this…” I whispered under my breath. Shizuku was a kind girl—a wonderful girl. Despite her own suffering, she wore a brave face for me, even ran interference with the doctor, all to spare me the burden of worry. Her selflessness extended beyond her own pain, always thinking of me, our parents. How could such an angelic soul be denied the chance to even see adulthood?
My vision blurred over, the doctor’s voice reached me through the veil. “It’s not quite time to lose hope yet, Mio. What I’ve outlined is only the likely scenario if she doesn’t improve in the next three years. There is still ample time for her to prove me wrong.”
Sure, the probability of her recovering wasn’t zero, I knew that. But the very fact that he felt compelled to pull me aside and prepare me for the worst spoke volumes. I could tell what he said just now were empty words of comfort that unfortunately did little to ease the pain in my heart.
I managed a quiet “Thank you” and a half-hearted smile. The doctor looked at me in sympathy. “We’ll give you some privacy,” he said gently, exiting the room with the nurse in tow.
Left alone, I slumped in my chair, my thoughts swirling around Shizuku. She had always been the brave one. Whenever my confidence waned, it was she who took me by the hand and pulled me forward. When the neighborhood boys picked on me, Shizuku was the one who rose to my defense. She was a part of me—and she was going to die in three years. My chest tightened at the thought, a tidal wave of grief threatening to overflow.
I longed to rush back to Shizuku, to bury my face in her embrace and let my tears flow freely as I had in our childhood. But I couldn’t, not now. How could I crumble when she stood so valiantly against despair? I had to mirror her strength, be the rock-solid older sister she needed now more than ever.
But the bitter truth gnawed at me—I could do nothing to save her. All I could do was keep working, to earn enough to ensure her treatment continued.
Gathering myself, I stood up, hastily wiping away my tears with the sleeve of my uniform. I passed by the doctor, bid him farewell, and headed to my job.