Chapter 7 — His Heart
Miyu jerked awake. What?! Had she slept at all?
The clock on the hallway wall glowed 5:23 a.m.. Her vision was still foggy, her thoughts sluggish. Daichi sat nearby, quiet, his hand brushing her shoulder.
He gave her a gentle pat. "Hey… you okay?"
Before she could answer, the double doors of the ICU swung open. A doctor in scrubs stepped out, mask hanging beneath his chin. His expression was heavy, weighted with a gravity she wasn't ready to bear.
Miyu's breath hitched. "Please…" she whispered, "please tell me he's okay…" Her wide blue eyes locked onto the doctor, desperate for reassurance.
The doctor sighed. "He's stable… for now."
Relief washed over her like a fragile tide, only to be ripped away the moment he continued.
"But…" Her stomach twisted.
"He's fallen into a coma."
The world stopped spinning. Coma?
"Based on the internal damage…" he hesitated. "He may not last more than three days. He's strong—most people would have died by now."
Miyu's knees buckled. Daichi caught her, holding her upright.
"No… no… three days? No…" Her voice trembled.
The doctor's gaze softened with professional sympathy. "I suggest you both go home and rest. It's important that you stay strong for him." he left.
Miyu's eyes flicked back toward the glass doors of the ICU. Itsuki lay there, still, almost ethereal beneath the soft hospital lights. And yet… something inside her whispered differently.
She felt a presence, faint and insistent. It's him. Itsuki
Her heart thudded. A warmth, a pulse… a quiet voice.
"I can hear you," it seemed to say—not aloud, but inside her mind. "Don't give up. Your words… your heart… I feel it."
A memory flickered, sharp as lightning—his hair ruffled like a cat being petted, a faint, defiant smile on his lips. Then he faded.
Miyu's chest tightened. For a moment, she could feel his determination, his struggle to hold on. Torn between panic and hope, she whispered to herself, "I will make sure you come back, Itsuki."
Inside his mind, Itsuki felt a tug—a fragile thread of warmth, her words reaching him through the darkness. He clenched his fists weakly, straining against the void. "I… won't… leave…" he murmured.
Daichi leaned closer. "Come on, Miyu. You need rest. I'll walk you home."
She nodded slowly, though her reason wasn't him—it was the faint, stubborn pulse of Itsuki still fighting, still tethered to her.
They walked in silence under the early morning dew. The streets were slick and quiet, the world only beginning to stir. Miyu's thoughts refused to settle; she pictured him, fragile yet defiant, battling forces she couldn't see.
Daichi watched her quietly. She never cares about anyone like this… he thought. I've struggled to keep up with her in class just to be close, but Itsuki… he has her in a way I never could. He clenched his fists. He's my friend, my rival… and now, he has her heart too.
He sighed. "Miyu…"
She kept walking, lost in her thoughts, unhearing.
"My coach won't be beside me tonight," Daichi tried again, stepping closer. "So, I thought—just to lift the tension—you could be my coach for the rookie rumble final."
Silence followed. Only the chirping of early birds filled the air.
She didn't want to do it, but Daichi had saved her, and Itsuki too. Helping him in this small way felt like the only way to say thank you.
"What's wrong with you? I don't have a professional coach license," she said, trying for her usual charisma—it faltered mid-sentence.
"You don't need one for the smallest competition," Daichi replied, knowing she remembered the rules.
"Fine. My first match can't be a loss. You should rest after last night's fight," she added, her voice colder than she intended.
"I usually train in the morning…" he began.
"Daichi, I'm your coach now. You won't feel it now, but in the ring, it'll be different," she interrupted, final.
He didn't argue. "Alright."
She kept walking. Daichi fell into step beside her. "Itsuki will be fine, I'm sure."
---
When they arrived at her home, it was a mansion, its grandeur hit her with the contrast of her inner turmoil: marble floors gleamed like glass, high ceilings stretched toward crystal chandeliers, and subtle opulence whispered wealth and order she could barely appreciate. Her father sure knew how to spend on the pricey stuff.
Miyu handed Daichi back his jacket. He offered her a small, reassuring smile, but she barely noticed.
He turned to leave.
"Daichi… how did you find us?"
"I was coming from my coach's wife's burial," he answered. Why did she ask? He thought.
She gave a faint smile. "Take a good rest… and call me."
Daichi returned the smile with a thumbs up, pleased she allowed herself a brief flicker of warmth.
The staff at the entrance whispered among themselves. "Miss Saotome… the hospital…" Miyu ignored them, her mind tethered entirely to Itsuki.
She entered the massive sitting room. The TV played analysts reviewing last night's matches, their voices a dull hum she didn't register. If only I had stayed home and watched it… she thought bitterly.
She headed upstairs. Her German shepherd, Sisu, leapt onto her as she reached her bedroom door.
"Hey! Down!" she scolded, annoyed despite herself. Sisu wagged its tail, oblivious to her mood.
She sat on her bed, tension coiling in her chest, wondering why she'd been angry at the dog. Slowly, she stretched her hand, patted Sisu, and offered it a treat. The dog nuzzled her hand in thanks, grounding her in the moment, if only slightly.
Ever since her mum passed, Sisu has always been the one waiting for her at home.
---
A knock came at the door.
Who now? she thought. Probably a maid.
"Can't you see I'm trying to rest?!" she yelled.
Silence. Another knock, softer this time.
I swear, if it's another interruption… she muttered, opening the door with a glare.
Her eyes widened. Instantly, she threw herself into a warm, familiar embrace.
"Grandma…" she whispered, relief and emotion breaking free in a rush.
Her grandmother held her tightly. "Darling… It's been a while… I had to see you."
Miyu clung to her, letting tears fall freely, finally allowing herself to feel, to breathe, and to share the weight of fear she'd carried alone for so long.
Through trembling and quiet sobs, she realized: she wasn't alone. Not entirely. Not while Itsuki was fighting. Not while she had those who loved her close.
And maybe, just maybe, she could gather enough strength to face whatever came next.