I could feel the strength leaving my body. There was the familiar, characteristic smell of the hospital, Dr. Washizuka’s disturbingly sterile white coat, the lightbox and its bright and hazy, translucent image of Himari’s insides.
“Perhaps? Don’t give me that crap, you’re a friggin’ doctor!” My brother stood with such force he knocked his stool to the ground, reaching for Dr. Washizuka.
“Kanba!” I shouted, standing and trying to stop him, but he seized the doctor by the collar.
“If this is about money, we’ll manage it! If she can’t be treated here in Japan, then we can take her overseas! If you need a transplant or something, you can take whatever you need from me! Just don’t tell me that there’s nothing you can do! Please just don’t say that!”
His grip suddenly loosened, and he collapsed on the spot, pressing his head to the floor.
“Please, you’ve gotta help her. Whatever the cost is, I’ll pay it. I don’t even care if that means my life for hers, just please save her!”
I was lost for words. Seeing my brother so upset tore my disbelief away, like the reality of our situation had been forcefully shoved down my throat. I stood there, unable to even wail like my brother, swallowed by a wave of memories and swirling emotions.
“Takakura-san, doctors are not gods,” said Dr. Washizuka, his voice low and regretful, though still cut and dry. He placed a hand on Kanba’s shoulder, urging him to raise his head.
“That’s because God doesn’t exist. He never has.”
I could only watch in a daze as my brother’s hands balled violently into fists, still trembling.
I hate the word “fate.”
Himari was released from the hospital, so that she could live out her remaining days with us, never knowing when the tiny flame of her life might burn out. She muttered an awkward, “Welcome home,” to us at the door, surrounded by her favorite dolls and stuffed animals.
Our little sister, braver and more precious than anyone else in this world. We could not fathom the idea of her no longer being with us. It was hard to truly imagine that this was reality, that our future might be snatched away from my brother and me, and most of all, from Himari.
A sluggish groan brought me back to my senses. Himari pulled away from the table and reclined on our little red sofa.
“Are you done, Himari?” I asked.
Looking at her dishes, I saw she’d left more than half of the food on her plate. She still couldn’t eat very much.
“Yeah, I’m full now. I really gorged myself there!” she said, delighted, letting out a sigh and rubbing her gut. “That was tasty, thank you!”
Sipping his warm, post-meal hojicha, Kanba chided, “That’s bad manners, Himari.”
“But today’s ‘Himari Day,’ so it’s fine,” she replied, puffing up her cheeks jokingly and blowing a raspberry.
“Himari Day? What is that?” he asked, glancing at me.
“Sho-chan said that I can do whatever I want today. That means today is Himari Day.”
“Hm, I see,” said Kanba, grinning at me. I averted my gaze, popping a pickle into my mouth and crunching on it.
“Kan-chan, Sho-chan, y’know something? I’m happy,” said Himari, her eyes shut.
Her long hair fanned around her on the sofa. She wore her favorite nightgown, as she had even in the hospital, a warm peach color. Her slender white legs thrust out from under it.
Kanba stared at her, and then finally gave a warm smile, as though letting out a sigh. “That’s true. You’re here, Shoma is here, and we have a home. I guess that’s what happiness is.”
Happiness. That feeling didn’t seem real to me, but I wasn’t about to interrupt their joyful exchange with my gloom.
“Hey, hey!” Himari sat up suddenly, as though something wonderful had just sprung to mind. “Do you think they still have penguins over at that aquarium?”
Though there was no one else besides us, at some point we had begun saying, “Be back later!” to our empty house whenever we went out.
Himari Day was blessed with clear, lovely weather, and we boarded the train from Ogikubo, headed for the aquarium. Himari wanted to take a roundabout, nostalgic route to our destination, traveling on the line that our family most often used to take. This was Himari Day, after all, so my brother and I acquiesced, and the three of us set out on our first excursion together in ages.
Himari looked like a little doll. She wore a frilly blouse tied with a delicate ribbon at the front and long cowboy boots, her skirt billowing out from her waist like a flower. Her cheeks were pinked from the effort of her brisk pace. My brother sat lazily, even now still looking drowsy.
As I gripped the ceiling strap, watching the two of them, I was surprised all over again at the three of us being together. There Himari really was, right beside us, all dressed up and smiling.
“Hey, Kan-chan, do your otter impression,” she said, tugging on his sleeve.
“Huh? Otter? Oh.” His face reddened.
“That time we all went to the aquarium together, you kept doing the otter thing afterward. With an orange sitting on your stomach,” she said, bursting into laughter.
“Hey, shut up! I was a stupid kid back then. I barely even remember that.”
“Things were so fun back then,” she said, gazing outside of the darkened windows.
Lost in my own thoughts, I did not see the gloomy expression she wore for just a moment. But as soon as Kanba, more sensitive, picked up on it, he called to me in a half-panicked voice, “Hey, Shoma. Wasn’t your seahorse impression pretty great, too?”
“Hm? What?” I was still staring out at my own reflection in the window, and the darkness rolling beyond it.
“What’s with you?” he asked. “You’ve been spacin’ out this whole time.”
“I was just thinking how long it’s been since we’ve done something fun.” Saying so made me a little afraid.
“It really has been a while,” Himari said softly. “It’s like a dream… Sorry for the big detour.”
A heavy silence fell over Kanba and me. There was a difficult moment before we mustered up the strength to reply. “It’s okay.”
I looked back at the darkness rolling past the window. Floating in the darkness beyond the glass was the clear reflection of my own vacant face.
Because it was a weekend, the Sunshiny National Aquarium in Ikebukuro was packed. There were families and couples and groups of girls. And us. Even I grew a little excited as we bought our tickets and stepped inside, our first visit in so long.
The darkness in the aquarium was different from that of the train. The deep blue of the large, thick glass panes seemed like it might suck me right in. In that strange atmosphere, everyone walked along holding hands or chatting, walking along so as not to get separated, or else stood still, peering inside. There were tanks with large fish swimming quickly, and tanks with vividly colored warm-water fish, and tanks where strangely formed deep sea fish and kelp swayed.
“If you start feelin’ bad, tell us right away,” Kanba said in his usual reliable way.
“I’m fine,” Himari replied, her gaze full of happiness mixed with nostalgia.
Kanba led us onward, diligently making sure that Himari did not bump into anyone. Popular guys really are their own breed, huh? We may have been brothers, but I didn’t resemble him in the slightest when it came to how we treated women.
The penguins carefully climbed up an artificial rockface, standing still, tottering around. They formed into lines and dove into the water, gliding smoothly under the surface. They swam elegantly back and forth before our eyes, as swiftly and smoothly as if they were flying through the sky, a completely different creature from how they looked on land.
“Whoa. The penguins are such good swimmers!” Himari was impressed, watching with rapt attention from the front row. Honestly, I had long forgotten that penguins could move in such a way.
“Yeah, even though they look a little silly on land.” Their wings looked both like fins and hands.
“I bet the penguins would be annoyed to hear that coming from you, Shoma.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I shot a glare at my brother. At roughly the same time, he pulled his cell phone from his back pocket.