It was as if someone had pressed play on a paused timeline. By the time Sarina Tendouji came to her senses, she had already spent fourteen days with Kitagawa Ryo, and tomorrow would be the day he left.
The moment she realized this, an overwhelming sense of panic washed over her. Every part of her body seemed to sink into a dull, hazy pain, each fragmented piece trembling uncontrollably.
Over these fourteen days, Sarina felt like she had spoken more words and smiled more times than in the first twelve years of her life combined. Kitagawa Ryo had taught her how to play Gomoku (Five in a Row), mysteriously telling her that when five stars aligned, she should shout "The Hand of God" to make it more dramatic.
However, due to Sarina's poor physical condition, most of the time, one of them would lie in bed while the other sat by the bedside, chatting idly.
Sarina Tendouji had collected almost all of Kitagawa Ryo's performance recordings, and the two of them would watch and reminisce together. Ryo would prop his head on his hand and tell her about the behind-the-scenes stories beneath the glamour. Sarina's favorite anecdote was about an actor who, due to nervousness, misspoke his lines, and how Ryo cleverly improvised to save the scene.
Sometimes, they would read. The hospital had placed a large number of children's picture books in the pediatric ward, ranging from Alice in Wonderland to The Little Prince. Kitagawa Ryo would sometimes pick them up and read stories to Sarina, changing his voice to play different characters. Even though it was just him, it always felt lively, as if they were watching a stage play.
Dr. Gorou Amamiya would also visit the room every day. According to him, it was a legitimate excuse to slack off while discussing acting techniques with Kitagawa Ryo. Sometimes, he would join the two of them in watching Ryo's performance recordings. As a top graduate from Tokyo National Medical University with a deviation value of 70, Dr. Amamiya had a wealth of knowledge. Despite being twenty-five years old, his personality was still quite childlike, and he got along effortlessly with Ryo and Sarina, as if there were no age gap at all.
In truth, Sarina Tendouji had already memorized every single second of these two weeks. Like animals storing food before winter, she knew very well that Kitagawa Ryo's departure was an unchangeable fact. She had to stockpile memories for herself in advance. She didn't want to end up like a hibernating bear, waking up hungry with nothing to do but lick its paws.
She would have to hold onto these memories to fall asleep in the coming winter.
Sarina Tendouji turned onto her side. Perhaps because it was their last day together, Kitagawa Ryo hadn't drawn the curtain between their beds. He lay curled up, seemingly already asleep.
She could already imagine how much she would miss him tomorrow night.
Would she miss him so much that she'd beg to dream of him? Or would she be too afraid of missing him to even dare to dream?
Just as Sarina, for the first time in a long while, tossed and turned restlessly, Kitagawa Ryo noticed her unease. He half-opened one eye and asked:
"Can't sleep, Sarina?"
Over these fourteen days of close interaction, he had come to understand her personality almost completely. However, unlike the obedient and well-behaved image she projected, Sarina had another side to her that she kept hidden.
But Ryo had no intention of prying open that deepest scar. He deliberately ignored it, planning to save it for the movie, where he would express it through his performance.
Because it was the sharpest and most selfish thought of all.
"Mm… Did I wake you, Ryo?"
"I wasn't really asleep either, so you didn't wake me."
"Can you come over here, Ryo?"
"Sure."
Kitagawa Ryo nodded, got up from his bed, and, as he had done many times before, sat down beside Sarina's bed, naturally taking her thin right hand in his.
Over these fourteen days, Sarina's parents hadn't visited her once. They had only called once, and the entire conversation lasted exactly one minute and thirty-four seconds.
By that measure, the time Ryo had spent with Sarina was 12,868 times longer than what her parents had given her.
"I remember your character in this movie is also a child with a serious illness, right?"
Sarina's voice was slow, as if she were hesitating or confirming something.
"I don't know if this will help you, but I want to tell you some of my thoughts."
Ryo felt his heart tighten. He quickly shook his head and refused:
"You don't have to tell me anything, Sarina."
"I'm a genius actor, after all. As my fan, you should believe in that more than anyone, right?"
Sarina seemed to have anticipated Ryo's response. She blinked and rephrased her request:
"Then let's just say it's my own complaint, okay?"
A little of the girl's emotions spilled out, and then the rest came flooding forth.
"I don't really like my dad… or my mom."
"It's not just because they work in central Tokyo. It's more like they've been pretending not to see me ever since I got sick."
"Actually, they might have already given up on me. They might even be planning to have another child."
"So… ever since I got sick, I've been trying to act like an optimistic, well-behaved child. I tell every doctor and nurse that my parents care about me, but they're just too busy with work to visit often."
"I tell them that being their child is the luckiest thing in the world."
"But it's all a lie."
Kitagawa Ryo listened quietly as Sarina Tendouji spoke. In their time together, she had already dropped hints about this.
In a previous hospital, Ryo had seen a daughter with a heart condition cling to her mother, crying and saying she wished to be her child again in the next life—just without the illness, so her mother wouldn't have to worry.
But what Sarina had told him that night was completely different.
Sarina wished to be reborn into a family of entertainers. At first glance, it might seem like she was pessimistic about her current life, but it also revealed something deeper.
Namely—she didn't want to be her parents' child again.
And the root of it all was this:
"I don't want to die."
"If my parents really hated me, I probably wouldn't even be in the hospital right now."
"So I can't be unreasonable. I can't throw tantrums. I can't cry or beg."
In the pediatric ward, the most common scenes were dramas between parents, children, and doctors.
Children throwing fits, rolling on the floor, pleading to avoid shots, medicine, or hospitalization.
But none of that applied to Sarina Tendouji.
If she didn't play the role of the obedient, thoughtful child who always considered her parents' feelings, even the last bit of warmth would never come her way.
Without her parents, Sarina, sick as she was, wouldn't have lived to see her twelfth birthday.
It was the sharpest thought, and one she could never voice.
Because she would undoubtedly be scolded for it. Because almost no one would understand.
But this was the honest thought of a child facing a serious illness.
"I want to live."
So she couldn't say she hated them.
"I don't want to die."
Even if it meant being alone in a hospital room.
She just… wanted to live.
It wasn't anyone else's wish—it was her own.
She knew she would die one day. She understood that not all her wishes could come true. She accepted that the process would be painful.
Even so, she still wanted to keep living in this world.
Kitagawa Ryo remained silent, still holding Sarina's hand.
Perhaps this was his answer.
Though the hand in his was fragile, the will within it was stronger than anything else.
Sarina Tendouji had told him the final trait of her character. Though it was hard to say, she had dug it out from the deepest part of her heart and shown it to him.
But Ryo had already known. The night before, he had written these words on the last page of his script:
"The more radiant the will to live, the more moving the moment of death."
The next morning, Kitagawa Ryo left the hospital and Miyazaki Prefecture.
The forest was home to many birds, and nests of all sizes dotted the trees along the road.
As the car drove past, Ryo clearly saw a crow flitting by the window.
Sarina Tendouji didn't—and wouldn't—mix up their toothbrushes again that morning. After washing up, she returned to her bed. The loneliness came faster than she had expected.
So she decided to start reminiscing from the very beginning.
She would warm those memories, hold them close, and prepare for the coming winter.
She began with the moment Kitagawa Ryo walked into her room and picked up the Hamlet poster.
Sarina played the recording of Hamlet, hugging a pillow as she rekindled her memories.
On the pure white screen, the story unfolded, and someone hummed a soft, steady tune.
"And will he not come again?
And will he not come again?
No, no, he is dead.
Go to the death-bed, he never will come again."
—Hamlet: The Death of Ophelia
Tokyo, Outside the LALALAI Theater Headquarters
As soon as Kitagawa Ryo stepped out of the car, a middle-aged man waiting by the roadside eagerly rushed over and lifted him into the air.
"Put me down."
Ryo's tone was as flat as ever. His only wish at the moment was to grow faster so this unscrupulous man would stop doing this to him.
"You're no fun."
Toshirou Kindaichi pouted but obediently set Ryo back down.
"I heard the filming went well? You're back in Tokyo earlier than expected."
"More or less. My scenes are done, anyway."
Ryo nodded as he walked toward the building.
After saying goodbye to Sarina Tendouji in Miyazaki, he had thrown himself into the filming process. Now, with winter officially here, the nearly two-month shoot had finally come to an end.
All that was left was editing, promotion, and release—none of which were Ryo's concern.
He was here today partly to fulfill his promise to Toshirou Kindaichi and partly to avoid the situation at home.
Ryo's adoptive mother was now five months pregnant. Her temper had grown increasingly volatile, and she had been diagnosed with prenatal depression. Her attitude toward Ryo had also worsened.
His adoptive father, Kitagawa Susumu, naturally sided with his unborn child. At first, he had tried to mediate, but eventually, he grew too exhausted and simply let his wife have her way, hoping the due date would come sooner.
"I've heard about the mess at your place. Like I said, Kitagawa's a real piece of work. So, how about it? Want to be my son instead?"
Toshirou Kindaichi rubbed his hands together, eagerly bringing up the old topic again.
"If you're so keen on being a dad, why don't you just adopt a kid from an orphanage? It's not like you have a wife or kids anyway."
Ryo turned around and rolled his eyes. He had already transferred some of his assets to a trusted manager. His past life had taught him the importance of financial independence.
Even if things fell apart with the Kitagawa family, he could live quite comfortably.
After all, there were hundreds of thousands of people on internet forums who were willing to be his "mother."
As Ryo discharged Kindaichi's idea, he turned a corner and bumped into someone. Though he didn't fall over like in a cartoon, he stumbled and rubbed his forehead in annoyance.
"Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow…"
But the other person seemed to be in even more pain.
Ryo looked up. The girl in front of him was clutching her upper abdomen. She was a head and a half taller than him, so he must have bumped into her just below the chest.
However, with her head down and a baseball cap on, Ryo couldn't see her face clearly.
Just as Ryo was about to apologize and ask if she was okay, the girl suddenly looked up. Her dazzling eyes, like gemstones forged from sapphire and ruby, met Ryo's deep, abyss-like gaze.
"You're…"
Ryo heard her exclaim in surprise.
"The boy with orange-flavored toothpaste!"
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