Seishun Buta Yarou Series - Volume 7 - Chapter 3.5

5

When he was done talking to Rio, Sakuta called Mai.

He told her about the call from Shouko’s mother.

“Okay,” she said. “I’ll be right out. Wait downstairs.”

And she hung up.

Sakuta told Kaede to guard the fort, and as promised, it was less than five minutes before Mai met him outside.

“Let’s go,” she said.

He nodded, and they started walking. He set a faster pace than usual, but Mai kept up just fine.

On the main road, they saw a bus bound for the hospital coming up from behind.

“Let’s grab that.”

They raced ahead to the bus stop and hopped on via the back doors. It was New Year’s Eve. Businesses and schools were closed, so the bus was almost empty. The long seat at the very back was open, so the two of them sat down there.

The doors closed, and the bus driver turned the blinker on and slowly started pulling out.

As he did, Sakuta said, “Mai.”

“Yes?”

“I still want to save Makinohara.”

He spoke clearly, looking straight ahead. Keeping his voice low and quiet yet firm. Making sure she knew what he was thinking.

“Mm.” Her voice was just as quiet. He could see her nod out of the corner of his eye. That was it. She wasn’t surprised or upset. She didn’t press him for more details or get flustered. She just said, “If you want to, you should.”

“Mai…?”

He hadn’t said anything yet. He hadn’t told her there was anything to this besides a wish for a hope beyond hope. But it felt like she already knew everything.

“The future schedule in Shouko’s room. She’s the one who wrote and erased that, right? That must have happened when her Adolescence Syndrome first presented itself in fourth grade. And it’s still active, right?”

He was definitely a little surprised she’d worked it all out. But it also explained why she was taking this in stride.

“So go ahead. Change the past.”

Sakuta’s hand was resting on the seat between them, and she laid her hand over his. The seat in front of them shielded them from any prying eyes.

“You’ve been crying every time I leave you alone.”

“Only, like, every other day.”

“You’re such a liar.”

He couldn’t fool Mai. But the lie was worth telling. Acting tough had made her smile.

“Or will you change your mind if I grab you and don’t let go?”

“It’s hard to say no to you.”

“Then I can’t ask. I think you’d regret that choice the rest of your life.”

“……”

“It’s hard to go on living wondering if you could have made a difference.”

“Mm.”

“But I think that feeling would fade over time. You’d cry less often. Together, we could get past it.”

“Yeah. That might not be so bad.”

“But we made a promise. On Christmas Eve, in the green room at the TV station. That we’d be happy together.”

“Yeah.”

He’d never forget. Those words were what kept him going.

“So this is just the long way around.”

“A bit, yeah.”

“We just have to forget it all once and start over.”

“Yeah. That’s all.”

“I’m going to meet you again.”

“Mm.”

“And fall in love once more.”

“Right.”

“You’re going to ask me out again.”

“I know I’ll find you.”

He squeezed her hand, taking in her warmth. Feeling her presence with the whole of his palm.

“And then we’ll be happy together.”

Mai looked at him and smiled.

“I promise.”

He squeezed her hand again, tighter. Mai laughed a little like that had tickled her.

The bus reached the stop by the hospital.

They got off, still holding hands.

Inside, the usual nurse was waiting for them. Shouko was in the ICU, and you couldn’t just waltz in and out of there—Shouko’s mother must have arranged this.

“Go on, Sakuta.”

“You’re not coming?”

“The schedule’s in her room. You’ll need it, right?”

“Right.”

If there was a key to resolving Shouko’s Adolescence Syndrome, it would be that.

“Okay, Mai, you handle that.”

They split up, and he followed the nurse.

The ICU was in the back of the building, normally off-limits to visitors. The hall had no patients and almost no doctors or nurses.

At the end of the deserted corridor was a pair of automatic doors. He was led into the visitor’s changing room. Like on his previous visit, he donned a sort of smock and was given a hat that resembled what painters wear. Special slippers for his feet. He washed his hands with incredible thoroughness.

The nurse checked him over carefully and cleared him to proceed.

He was led through another door on the other side of the changing room. This still wasn’t Shouko’s ICU room—just a super-sterile corridor. There were glass windows along the right wall, allowing them to look into each room.

The nurse leading him stopped. Sakuta saw faces on the other side of the glass. Shouko’s parents, dressed exactly like him. They bowed at the sight of him. He did the same.

A week before, he hadn’t been allowed in the actual room. This time, it was different.

“Go on,” the nurse said. So he stepped into the ICU.

There was a very distinct silence.

Only the hum of the medical devices disturbed the quiet. One sounded exactly like a fridge, while another seemed to be pumping something. And these mechanical noises just made the silence more pronounced. Like the devices were manufacturing stillness.

Shouko was lying on the bed, surrounded by these machines. Her eyes were closed.

“Shouko, Azusagawa’s here,” her mother said. There was a quiver in her voice.

Shouko’s eyes opened halfway. At first, they just stared at the ceiling, but then they found her parents’ faces.

“Makinohara,” Sakuta said, unable to wait.

Her gaze wandered and finally locked onto him.

“Sakuta…”

Her voice was muffled by the oxygen mask. She lifted her little hand, reaching for him.

“Come closer,” her mother said, stepping aside to let him in.

“Yeah, it’s me.”

He didn’t know what else to say. His body moved without thinking, placing both his hands around hers. He didn’t tighten his grip at all. Her hand felt so tiny, her fingers so thin—he got scared that if he held it too tight, it would melt away.

“I didn’t want you to see me like this.”

“Why not?”

“I mean, surrounded by machines…”

“It’s kinda badass.”

“Not a compliment girls really strive for.”

But she cracked the smallest of smiles.

With her free hand, she pulled the mask off.

He glanced at the nurse to see if that was okay. She nodded.

Shouko put the mask down on the table positioned over her bed. On it were a junior high school textbook, a pencil box, and a pencil.

“You’ve been studying?”

“When I feel up to it. Now and then.”

“We’ll be just outside, Shouko,” her mother said. She bowed with her eyes, and Shouko’s parents and the nurse all left.

Sakuta and Shouko were alone.

“……”

He didn’t know what to say at first. The regular rhythm of the machines and his own emotions were both overwhelming. He could feel the tension coiling around him. An invisible wave of fear was rising up from his soles.

“You kept your promise.”

“Mm?”

“Mom said you came to see me every day.”

“Some days I had to work.”

Shouko laughed. She knew why he was joking.

“Thank you,” she said.

“Makinohara.”

“Yes?”

“There’s something you should hear.”

Part of him wasn’t sure if he should tell her. But if he didn’t now, he would never get another chance. That was how bad her condition was. Every part of this room was telling him as much. The looks on the faces of her family said it louder than words.

“It’s about the future schedule you showed me.”

“……”

“The one filled with things you didn’t write.”

“Sakuta,” she said, looking away. At nothing in particular. Eyes focused beyond the ceiling. Maybe at the sky above. “I’ve been dreaming.”

“You have?”

“Very strange dreams.”

She spoke like she was lost in memories.

“I was in high school, and I met a younger you on the beach at Shichirigahama. And teased you a lot.”

“……”

Shouko had taken control of the conversation, but Sakuta never considered stopping her. He knew exactly what she was talking about—those memories weren’t easily forgotten.

“Then I dreamed I was in college, and I stayed at your house, cooked for you, cleaned, and gave Nasuno baths.”

This was hardly a coincidence. Little Shouko’s dreams of high school were dreams of the Shouko who was Sakuta’s first love. And the college Shouko was the one who’d stayed with him from late November until Christmas Eve.

“Every morning, I woke up, said good morning to you…and saw you off at the front door.”

“……”

“When you got home, I’d welcome you back with an apron on. Before bed, I’d say good night. And when morning came, we did it all over again. Like we were newlyweds. It was so much fun.”

“Makinohara.”

“Sometimes we went out together.”

“That wasn’t a dream.”

“In a chapel with an ocean view, I tried on a wedding dress, and you looked so awkward, but I managed to get a few compliments out of you.”

“It wasn’t—”

“Even if it was just a dream, I loved spending time with you.”

“All of that…really happened.”

“It was so much fun.”

Shouko smiled, looking completely content.

Her eyes had turned back to him. He could feel her gentle gaze.

“I know, Sakuta.”

Her smile became a little impish. Like she was imitating her older self.

“Makinohara?”

“I know everything. I know that was a real future and that we’re in the future now. I already know.”

“Yeah, that’s right. And if we change the past, maybe there’s still a way to save you.”

He knew it was a faint hope. The odds were next to nothing. He was painfully aware of that.

“But I can’t,” Shouko said. She slowly shook her head.

“Why not…?”

“I don’t think a do-over will cure my condition.”

“We don’t know that. There must be something…”

“But if I go back in time, maybe I can save you from the grief you’re feeling.”

“What…?”

“I know everything.”

“……”

“I’m making you suffer.”

“No, you’ve done nothing wrong.”

“I was so scared of the future that I got Adolescence Syndrome. And that’s how I met you.”

“And I owe you everything for that. I’ve never once regretted meeting either version of you. All the time we spent together matters. I wouldn’t be who I am now if we hadn’t met.”

There was so much he wanted to tell her. He wanted to use every bit of strength he could muster and shout it from the rooftops. But now that he was face-to-face with her, Sakuta couldn’t do any of that. He had to keep his voice down and remain calm.

“You did great, Sakuta.”

“……”

“So it’s okay.”

There were tears forming in her eyes.

“Makinohara…?”

“I’ll get the do-over right this time. I’ll make a future where we never meet.”

“What are you—?”

“So you can have a future where you don’t have to be sad. Even if it means we never meet, if you’re happy, then—”

“No, you can’t— That’s not what I meant to—”

Shouko’s eyes were on the ceiling again, unfocused. It didn’t seem like she could hear him. Her lips were barely moving, her voice almost inaudible.

Nothing Sakuta said was getting through to her at all.

“Don’t do this, Makinohara!”

His words didn’t reach her.

“The do-over should be for you.”

His feelings didn’t, either.

“You don’t need to worry anymore, Sakuta.”

“I’m not…”

“Just leave it all to me.”

“No…”

“I promise I’ll make you happy.”

“You matter, too!”

Shouko’s hand went limp.

“Makinohara…?”

“……”

She didn’t answer. Didn’t respond at all.

“H-help!” he called out.

The nurse stepped in quickly and checked Shouko’s vitals.

“Don’t worry. She’s just asleep.”

He couldn’t not worry. There was an unsaid “for now” couched in that reassurance, and that hit him hard. He was a mess. Shouko had made up her mind, and what she’d said had rattled him to the core.

Sakuta had come here intending to save her. She’d been born with this awful condition, and he believed she deserved to be saved from her fate. He still did. But even now, she was only concerned about him. She’d said she wanted to save him.

“Do what’s best for you, Makinohara,” he croaked as he gradually lost control of his roiling emotions. “It’s okay to put yourself first.”

Fighting back the tears, shoulders shaking.

“Let’s step outside a minute,” the nurse suggested.

He followed her lead. There was nothing he could do here now. He’d just be in the way.

Outside the clean room, he stared back at Shouko once through the glass. She couldn’t have been satisfied with her lot in life. She must have wanted more. But in her sleep, she smiled, like she was happy.

He couldn’t stand looking at that contented expression. He quickly returned to the changing room. The smock and hat came off and went into the disposal bin.

“I’ll call for you if anything happens,” the nurse said.

He nodded without glancing back and went outside.

Back through the double doors.

Mai and Rio were waiting for him.

“Sakuta.”

“Mai…”

“How’s Shouko?”

“Asleep.”

“Oh.”

Mai lowered her eyes, biting her lip.

“Sakurajima, he should see it.”

Rio was looking at the printout in Mai’s hand.

“Here,” Mai said, holding it up.

“……?!”

Surprise and doubt rushed over him.

“How…?”

The entries had been rewritten. Replacing the old version completely.

There was no junior high graduation. No high school.

It couldn’t even be called a future schedule anymore.

Yet it was exactly right. Sakuta could never have written words like this, words that spoke directly to his heart.

All the fields were filled out.

“Thank you.”

“Good job.”

“I love you.”

Live your life and treasure all three.

The handwriting wasn’t always steady, but they were written with force.

Big Shouko’s three favorite things to hear.

The three things he’d told little Shouko, in turn.

And at the very bottom…

I want to become a nicer person.

“…What the…?”

Something fell on the page. It seeped into the paper, blurring the words Shouko Makinohara, Class 4-1.

He knew it was his tears, but he couldn’t stop them.

“Why…?”

“We spoke to Shouko’s mother when she came out of the ICU. She said yesterday Shouko suddenly insisted she had to do her homework.”

“What am I supposed to do?” he asked, desperately turning to Rio. “How am I supposed to help her?”

“……”

Rio just looked downcast, saying nothing.

“Makinohara…knew everything. About Shouko, about me… She knew she had a chance at changing history. She knew all of that, and because she did…she said this time she’d make sure we never meet. She said that way, even if she was gone, I wouldn’t have to grieve. And I don’t—”

It had been his one hope. A faint possibility that could only be attained by going back in time. Yet Shouko was using that not for herself, but for Sakuta.

“Sorry, Azusagawa,” Rio said, visibly upset. Her eyes met his. “I can only think of one thing to do.”

She held out a pencil. A red one—like teachers use to grade papers.

“……?”

“Sakuta,” Mai said. “Shouko worked hard on this.”

She put her hand on his back.

“……”

“So you need to mark her homework complete.”

“?!”

“Tell her what a good job she did.”

“I…”

Fingers trembling, he reached for the pencil. He couldn’t hold it right. But he gritted his teeth and forced his fingers to tighten around it. His tears would have to wait for a moment.

He put the printout down on a low table by a bench in the hall.

He didn’t hesitate further.

Conscious of the heat behind his eyes, Sakuta smiled and drew a big flower. Going for the biggest flower mark any homework had ever seen. It covered the whole damn page, like a midsummer sunflower.

When he was done, he looked up and found Mai crying. Rio was crying, too. Crying like a sun-shower, beaming all the while.

Bells rang out, marking the arrival of the New Year.

They’d been granted permission to stay the night at the hospital.

They were in the hall just outside the ICU. On a bench against the wall, wrapped in blankets, waiting.

Shouko’s parents had said they could use Shouko’s room in the main wing, but they’d decided to stay closer to her.

The nurse had brought the blankets, saying they looked cold.

Sakuta and Mai were wrapped in the same blanket, huddled together. Rio was on a seat nearby. Yuuma was with her, having shown up later on.

None of them spoke. They just sat in silence.

“A new year,” Yuuma whispered. In the darkened hallway, the light of his phone’s screen seemed very bright.

Nobody felt like calling the New Year “happy.”

Nobody here was in the mood to celebrate.

Time was about to rob Shouko of her life, and the hall was filled with silent prayers for time to stand still.

But in time, the tolling of the bells at the nearby temples faded.

The hospital corridor was silent once more. The only noise came when one of them shifted in their seat.

Sakuta and Mai were sitting shoulder to shoulder, and he could hear her breathing.

At some point, it had grown rhythmic. Soft.

Her eyes were closed, her weight resting against him.

He looked over, and Rio was asleep with her hands around her knees. Yuuma, too, had his head down and was sound asleep.

The sky outside the window was getting brighter.

Morning was almost here.

The first morn of the new year.

Sakuta said a prayer to the unrisen sun, hoping that Shouko would be okay.

And that was the last thought he had before his consciousness faded.

He thought he heard the click of the ICU doors opening.

“Shouko has…”

He thought he heard someone speaking.

But his mind was off in the world of slumber before either sound could reach him.

He dreamed—

Of a classroom he’d never seen.

Little desks in rows.

An elementary school.

The kids looked maybe third or fourth grade.

All facing their desks.

Writing something on a printout.

Sakuta recognized one of the girls.

An extra-small one, sitting bolt upright in her chair.

Absorbed in her writing.

Her expression serious but excited.

He tried to remember her name, but it escaped him.

He felt like he should know it, but racking his mind got him nowhere.

“All done!” a boy in the middle said, throwing up his hand.

“Me too!”

“Same here!”

Hands were going up all around.

As the rest of the class got noisy, the girl kept writing. Everyone else was done and goofing off, but she kept going.

The teacher came over to her.

She knelt down beside the girl.

“Just write as far as you feel comfortable,” she said.

The girl looked up a moment later.

With a proud smile.

She held out the page with both hands.

“All done!” she said.

And gave her teacher a bright smile.