EPILOGUE
Outside the lone window, the cicadas quietly cried, her body lying in the pure white bed. When the tree leaves fell, she was still laying there. Merely half a year had passed, but to me, it was a lifetime. The only constant was her unmoving body and the monotone beat of the machine at her side. I was sure I had already gone insane, constantly irritated an inanimate object was more helpful than me.
I continued blaming myself for her miserable state. Thinking had I made another choice--begged her to stop seeing the Commander like a heartbroken maiden--maybe she would have listened. Rolling around a field of self-hatred until I was able to brush off that shameful thought, I recalled the facts: Sumire had strong reasons, important enough to have clung so strongly even if I didn't comprehend them.
Perhaps if I instead blamed her stupidity, I wouldn't be suffering. Sometimes, I was close. But when I entered the hospital room, all traces of anger faded, leaving the desire to scream my lungs out. Soccer was the only thing that kept me remotely sane. I pitifully shut down my emotions until cold rage remained and lead the soccer team to its fitting place as the Commander desired.
"If you cling to someone else's ideas, you will lose yourself," she had told me once. Despite not understanding their meaning, I remembered those words at the Commander's side.
When I was close to her without interacting, I felt sick at the relief I inevitably experienced, then doubted why I was so attached in the first place. Sometimes, I theorized I wanted to repay her. Other times, I wanted to stay away. The memory of her lonesome figure as I kept walking was a sign I was becoming my person. Therefore, her presence at Teikoku was a threat to this newfound independence. For someone who treasured theirs to the point of a flaw, it was strange she didn't support it.
I stood from the chair and leaned against the window, watching two white dots descend from the clouded, murky sky. "Winter is here. I'm sure you want to sleep through this season too," I mocked.
The nurse slipped into the room and informed visiting hours would soon end. I thanked her as she withdrew, then stared at the bed with her limp body. "Why did you sacrifice so much for Gouenji? What is he to you? I don't understand. It's not like you to get emotionally attached." There was no answer. I doubted this would help even if it stimulated her comatose brain. I didn't care about the reply.
"What happened in Kidokawa? Were you so desperate to find a replacement for me that you chose the closest person before you?" I stopped myself before a fragment of truth could slip, reminding it was impossible to be helpful with lashing out.
The steady beep of the machine flooded the room, the sign she was still alive. Doctors said her blood condition and insomnia worsened her health. The first decisive month, when most patients return to consciousness, had long passed. At the end of each day, the narrow probability she returned lowered.
"But we know you can't die. No one genuinely believes you will live, but you can't afford to withdraw. You depend on the Sumire Foundation. Otherwise, you would have already followed your parents, wouldn't you? We know you will come back."
"Yes, I can't." I didn't know if that voice was a wishful delusion. I stepped closer to the hospital bed and stared down. The nurse in charge had forgotten switching on the lights. The street lamp closest to the room illuminated the side of her pale face.
"They need you," my voice shivered. "Some people need you. A girl visits often. Gouenji wants to apologize."
"You. Do you need me?" I couldn't answer, hiccups slipping from my mouth. "I apologize. It seems all I have done recently is hurting you." Her voice was raspy. I heard something brush against the covers and looked downwards. Her open palm, peeking from the covers, inviting another.
I shifted my gaze to her face. She stared back with a wistful smile and sleepy violet eyes.
Without a word, I placed my hand on hers.
"I'm sorry," she said. I couldn't tell if her voice was unstable because she was about to cry or for its lack of use. "There were so many things I didn't tell I should have. It wouldn't have ended this way."
I collapsed to my knees and dragged myself to her. Planting my face on the mattress, I could only weep while she continued talking.
"I shouldn't have allowed envy and resentment to overtake me. I should have told you were dear to me." She went through a coughing fit and withheld me from calling a nurse. I sat on the chair and listened. She mutely asked for my hand again. I obeyed. "I have been reliving the same days and see everything in a new light. I am afraid you will be more capable than I am one day. Yet it is my responsibility and desire to watch after you."
I told her she would always be the best in my eyes. She returned a smile I hadn't witnessed in years. "Is it possible to start over? Is it not too late?"
I shook my head and felt a gurguntal scream building from my chest, hurling it out as I rubbed her petite hand against my forehead. "How can I not? You are--you are family." When I declared that, like an epiphany, the logical contradictions of my complex emotions and mood swings gracefully fell in place. I could willingly forget about her yet never for long. Yuu had unconsciously become someone whom there was no direct comparison to.
She was special. She was family.