WINTER'S SERENADE
Dearest Shimizu-kun,
By the time this letter would reach you, I may possibly be beyond the living by now, incapable of reading it to you aloud or even to hand it over to you personally as I had promised. I apologize for that.
Nevertheless, don't be distraught, I may not be around you anymore but as long as you remember me by heart, I will always be next to you.
.
A part of him wanted to let go and leave the place, never to look back while another contradicted the thought, telling him to get one last glimpse of the room and store their precious memories together in a safe keep. Yet with renewed grief and guilt in this heavy heart of his, all he could accomplish was grip the knob tightly until his fingers ached.
"Keiichi-kun?"
Surprise registered in his face as, unconsciously, he turned the object at hand, seeking the source of the voice. A feeling resembling nostalgia washed over him as his gaze fell on Shouko's vacant bedroom, a single question penetrating his mind: What did you expect?
A faint smile of greeting.
A wave of a pale yet delectable and warm hand.
A voice so soft it was barely audible but enchanting.
His name hovering from those curving albeit ashen lips.
"Keiichi-kun!"
Disheveled blond head turned and a pair of wide-eyed cobalt eyes met the snowy bed, empty now after ten years of his best friend's use. It was an unsettling notion.
He ventured further across the room and stood beside it, lovingly caressing the feathered covers as he would caress Shouko's hand during wintry seasons. The memory brought a blue smile on his angelic face before he pushed the unbidden thought aside; no time for theatrics, not this time.
.
Finding this letter would only mean one thing: you had found my 'treasure box'. In all honesty, I would have preferred to bequeath this cherished package filled with items close to my heart to you for I know you will ascertain of its worth. That way, it would have been more meaningful. But inasmuch as I yearned for such matter to happen, I believe my failing health wouldn't allow me to indulge in my little desire.
For this reason, I'll leave the unearthing to you, which I know wouldn't be too hard of a task.
.
Sinking on his haunches, he reached down, his hands feeling the floor until he grasped a rectangular box. With care, he extracted and brought it close. It was Shouko's treasure chest, where she'd kept her most essential stuff hidden. Neither he nor her parents understood why it was so nor the contents it carries.
"Can't you share it with your best friend?" he had asked once with sincere curiosity, pointing at the said chest in the cradle of her arms.
"I can't s-say. It contains my s-secret," she had said, placing a thinning finger on her lips.
The sight of her in that position, with the sun behind her forming a halo above her head and a smile lighting her pallor and improving her colour, had caused a slight blush on his cheeks, rendering him speechless—that of which he tried so hard to hide lest she find out his true feelings.
.
Unlocking the box might not be that easy for you, considering your reverence for secrecy and such. I could very well imagine now the hesitancy in your eyes as you hold the case in your hand.
But there's no need to worry, my dearest Keiichi. I will give you the right drive to carry on and uncover the secrets that I am willing to share to you.
.
Sighing, he stood up, patting the wrinkled covers with one hand, the wooden chest tucked under his other arm. He espied the chair he so favoured during his afternoon visits, and there he sat eyeing the chest and its key, contemplating.
"Keiichi-kun?"
He sucked his breath. That voice...
It was Shouko's, and he somehow conceived the message it was trying to convey. Raking his fingers on his blond hair, he let out a shaky laugh—both in fear and delight; the sound he produced almost that of a mad man.
Even in death, she still has power over him. Right drive indeed, my sweet.
"I understand now."
With the help of the silver key, he opened the chest. His insides clenched as he perceived the music sheets within, locked away in this lone box. It was but a single piece, a piece he'd thought had gone unfinished and discarded for Shouko's condition worsened one night, disabling her to hold any writing tool.
"Heaven Sent," he read aloud, touching the words written by a feminine and clumsy hand.
Recognizing the notes he made a quick survey of the piece. It is a song of love; of his love for her. He'd made sure it was properly disclosed in the piece, his roundabout way of confessing. A declaration of his passion and of his never ending loyalty to her; just her and no one else. Fortissimo.
Moreover, it is a song of hope; of her hope that someday, somewhere in the future, both of them would leave for a place, hand in hand. A place for the both of them where they could finish the song they had started. A faint yearning for peace and solace. Pianissimo.
His gaze fell on the signature: Shouko Shimizu.
The effect of her name unlocked the melancholy he had kept inside for days, the grief he had refused to let go openly. As it was, a wretched tear fell then another, and another... until his lamenting heart, too, wept for the best friend lost, protectee, sweetheart...
Wife.
Yet with those, he found his love.
.
Heaven Sent.
The euphoria that the song has brought me was beyond compare. It is the semblance of our selves weaved together in a single movement. Leaving it halfway would be such a waste and I would definitely not allow myself or my sickness to be the reason of its postponement. And so I finished it and I implore for your consideration to my crude writing.
My sickness has cost me more than anyone could ever imagine, yet there is nothing that I regret more than having lost the freedom of doing what I want when I want it; the ability to get something done the way I wish for it to happen; my independence. I could never have been more miserable than when I realized my inevitable fate of dying someday. Really, those were the difficult days.
.
"Shouko-san!"
Hearing his voice so shaken with dread was a first. She was so used to his muted tone, tender and yielding yet firm and persistent at the same time that picking up such unfamiliar timbre from him was quite a surprise. She made a fistful grab of the sleeves of his sweater as he continued to hold on to her in fear that she might fall again just as the way she did that very moment he entered the hospital room—that and of the thought that him coming a second too late to catch her.
"Are you alright?" the cellist asked, words pronounced sounding frenzied, his breathing coming in fast and hard as if he just made a run for his life.
Well, it might have been just that when he saw her plummeting towards the hard, cemented floor.
"I—I'm fine, Keiichi-kun," she replied, suddenly feeling chagrined by her clumsiness and of its consequences.
Without a word, Keiichi slowly stood up, maneuvering his arms around Shouko's legs and her back to effortlessly carry her in his arms. The latter unconsciously snaked her own arms around his neck, burying her face from under it.
"What happened, Shouko?" he asked moments later after she settled back onto her bed, this time his voice calmer and more familiar to her ears. Then she noted the lack of honorifics and slightly flushed.
"I was trying t-to get my clarinet. It's in that closet," the teal-haired clarinettist replied as she sticked out one pale finger, pointing at the closet just across her bed, causing the blonde lad to turn his head to that direction.
"I-I thought I could use some time to play," she added, making a slight pause before continuing, "I-I haven't been able to make use of my clarinet since that day I was a-admitted and I'm terribly missing it."
Silence ensued after she had spoken and suddenly there was that awkward tension lingering between the two of them. Shouko eyed the cellist carefully, trying to discern his thoughts with what she could from his face, of which had turned slightly grim. Seeing his expression, she turned away, feeling awfully mortified.
Catching a glimpse of the lass's troubled features, Keiichi suddenly felt guilt-stricken. Making his sweet teal-haired damsel feel distress is one thing he tried so very hard to avoid as much as possible. True, her impulsive stubbornness sometimes made him want to shake her deliberately to make a point but with just a look on her trembling, soft lips and the unconscious shaking of her hands melted all his hidden frustrations away as if they were nothing. He tried, so many times, to be indifferent to her involuntary vulnerable tendencies, sometimes to the point of being callous. Yet his love for her is stronger and so he's willing to overlook. Every single time. And today isn't going to be an exception.
Raking his fingers through his golden tresses he released a sigh, and with firm yet gentle voice which never failed to make her heart beat in frenzy, he said, "Stay still. I'll get it for you."
Turning away to retrieve her clarinet, Keiichi had missed the very smile he'd been wanting to see since he left for the hospital that day.
.
And yet you were relenting and had conceded to my every simple request.
.
Clarinet let out a frolicsome tune—a melody of a person her owner was once.
"A duet, s-sensei?" came the childish inquiry filled with delight.
The audience watch them, entirely fascinated, the only other girl sighing and the men obviously pleased.
A gleeful ambiance to match her, Cello accompanied her rhythm—a fervent wish by his owner renewed.
"A duet . . . With Fuyuumi-chan," came the dreamy tone, a playful smile touching his lips.
Smiles revealed as they remain entranced from the awe-inspiring freshmen's duet, emotions as one with feelings of unadulterated fondness in every possible way.
Together, with one intent in mind, they took the stage and performed this blissful piece, their notes soaring high in this enclosed room, tangled in the midst of a long ago memory.
"Hn. A duet by Shimizu-kun and Fuyuumi-chan. Would you like that?"
"Haiii!"
As they drew to a soft conclusion, the rapturous euphoria was almost palpable in the air, with the spectators' applause as their satisfying background.
"Let's do th—that again someday!" beamed Shouko, her clarinet clutched to her chest in a silent plea for that someday to come.
Keiichi just smiled at her excited tone, glad that he had somehow brought her back—Shouko, his stubborn maiden, his damsel in delight.
And in his dreams, he wished the same.
.
When I learned that I may not be able to play the clarinet in the future, I was truly heartbroken. The clarinet is my happiness and keeping me from it could only bring anguish. It is my only escape from the cruelty of my reality. And so when I heard those words that I refused to believe from the beginning, I felt like I died, then and there.
.
Christmas morn greeted the bedridden Shouko with the usual bleak weather, which did not bode well on her frail body, and an inevitable yet harsh truth she painstakingly denied.
Her facade compose, she silently stared through the windows, waiting for the coming blizzard reported to sweep over the land. But her eyes were unseeing, totally devoid of emotions; her mind a flurry of contradictions.
"I... I don't want to do this, Shouko-chan, but... I can't let you—I can't let you play the clarinet anymore. Not now or ever."
Cruel words. Unwanted truths.
N-No! You can't do this. Not another d—dream, not an—another reason to hope.
She had want to tell him so, haul those words to him. But she had just watched him leave the cold room as silent as a ghost, hearing the door close behind him and listening to his fading footsteps echoing across the hall.
.
He did not come.
The clock hanging by the wall had struck three-fifteen, its staccato ticking falling on deaf ears. Keiichi was supposed to arrive minutes ago, his arrival exactly at three o'clock sharp, always in tune with the long hand resting on twelve.
She had often wondered if he was doing it deliberately or just plain coincidence. Nevertheless, he had never been late or gone this long.
But he was not coming; she knew.
Outside, snow began falling. The sight of it would have brought her extreme happiness; this time it only filled her with bitterness.
.
Ignorant of her unsteady and quivering legs, she leaned unto the wall, both hands supporting her as she treaded one raised foot to the floor, taking small steps at a time to close the distance between her and her clarinet. Her clarinet kept locked on the closet, their gap a galaxy away.
It was the second day Keiichi had failed to visit her, and frustrated, she'd thought of possessing her instrument and playing her heart out. The once fancy idea somehow lost its appeal as she struggled to gather her equilibrium.
One step. Right. One more step. Left. At last . . .
Quietly, she opened her closet and took out her case. Sitting on her bottom for she found the journey back to her bed tedious, she extracted her clarinet, already assembled. She brought it to her lips and a soft, dejected melody came to life.
His warning were but forgotten.
.
Same time yet different place. Two hearts yet one soul. Together they make one fervid sonata.
Keiichi drew his bow across the strings a bit stronger, prodigious yet heart-wrenching; notes fluttering, distinctive and genuine; a tender still haunting melody.
"I can't let you play the clarinet anymore."
Even with his eyes closed, he could see still see her pained look as he said those words. For two days now he had not come close to her room, afraid to find animosity in her eyes directed to him.
Should he go to her?
"A day with K—Kei-kun is everything I'm g—grateful about."
He stopped, clutching the bow rather tightly as regret washed over his persona.
.
Her clarinet fell from her trembling hands, breaking to pieces just like her.
.
I had always known that you did not mean abandonment when you didn't come on those days. It must have been hard on you as much as it had been on me. And I truly understand. It is not simple seeing someone close to you suffer so much. And so I waited; waited for the time to come for you to be ready to face me again.
.
Third day after the revelation at exactly 3 o'clock sharp;
Shimizu Keiichi stood by the doorway, head slightly bowed, tresses of his golden hair falling on his eyes, blocking them from her view.
At the hospital room at 3 o'clock, 15 seconds and counting;
Fuyuumi Shouko sat on her hospital bed per usual, her complexion still as pallid as ever, a silent, understanding smile adorned her face.
"Welcome back, Keiichi-kun."
A slight pause.
"I'm sorry, Shouko-chan."
.
Then again, as I tried looking back to those days, those times when I was in my depressed state, I gathered they weren't so hard. Maybe because it could have been worst. Or simply because you were there.
I know I had been difficult to handle, stubborn even. Yet your patience for my obstinacy is truly a virtue and I am both sorry, for the countless times that I had caused you trouble; and thankful, for the equally countless efforts you did for me. Especially just for me.
.
"Like this?"
Shouko took her eyes from outside and met Keiichi's quizzical gaze, then a weak giggle escaped her lips as they befell on his long, fine fingers stiffly positioned on the wrong tone holes of her long-ago clarinet he held up to her for inspection.
He had asked her to teach him how to play her instrument—the clarinet—not half an hour; a request she has first declined. But after a little persuasion on his side, she hesitantly accepted it, much to his delight, for somehow, somewhere along, she recognized this entreaty as a compensation in disguise.
Besides, she had reasoned quite gloatingly, she would be taking the upperhand for once—a prospect she could hardly resist.
He knew it, of course. He had it planned after all.
Right now however , she wondered why he was feigning no knowledge with the positions.
Gently she eased away from the pile of pillow behind her, reaching out to accommodate him—posture, hand and arm positioning. As her fingers grazed his, a feather-like caress, he visibly relaxed, his shoulders hunching slightly.
"You must relax your fingers, Kei-kun . . . No, n-not like that. Curve i—there," she breathed, leaning back and giving him a knowing smile.
He responded by tilting his head, all innocent and child-like; his eyes drooping slightly to conceal the very truth in his eyes before he blew on the mouthpiece.
Ah, music to her ears. It has been some time since she'd last heard—and played—a clarinet and just hearing its familiar sound made her weak heart skip bringing colour to her pallor.
"N-Now, let's tr—" Her words were forever suspended.
Awed, she watched as Keiichi's fingers played the tune of "Let It Snow", gliding awkwardly like a dancer light on her feet, sometimes stumbling on the wrong foot but gracefully regaining her stance and keeping up with the music.
As the last note vibrated in four walls, all she could do was clap. So much for gaining the upperhand.
Casting a sheepish grin, he asked, "Was it . . . worth it?"
Overwhelmed with sudden pride, she nodded. "When did y-you learn to play the clarinet?" she inquired, her curiosity piqued as a tinge of pink graced his cheeks.
"Yesterday . . . The day before that . . . And the day before that . . . "
She patted his blond curls, interrupting his tirade. "Th-Thank you. Y-You don't have to d-do this to make me h-happy. A day with Kei-kun is everything I'm g-grateful about."
Enchanted was his smile he bestowed her. "So do you think I would pass as a clarinetist?"
"I think you'll have to st—stick with your cello."
"I thought so, too."
Ah, the sound of her laughter just made his day.
.
There are no words that would best describe what I thought of you and of what I feel for you. You have been with me since we were young and the days I had spent with you were memorable and worth cherishing. You have been my best friend, confidante…my beloved. I don't know exactly how to repay you of the things that you have done for me; for the sacrifices and efforts you made just for my sake. I realized I would be forever in your debt.
Yet, I am very happy. Happy for despite the price I am about to pay, I was able to spend my life with you, Keiichi. And that alone is enough for me to move on to the life after my death. I am now fulfilled and forever pleased.
.
Snow gently showered like raindrops on a storm, covering most of the countryside with its white remnants. Trees glistened as snowflake after snowflake slowly coated them in every inch possible. Both roofs and pavements were heavily glazed, giving the overall tableau an almost ethereal glow.
They have always been an enigma to her; how something as simple as tiny crystal flakes could bring forth such gleaming aftermath. She, a spectator of the outside world, always looking from afar, could only wonder at the mystery.
But now that she's got the chance to indulge herself with frolicking under the gentle frosty shower, Shouko allowed a small excited smile to grace her pale face. With this last opportunity given, there is no holding back.
"Are you cold?"
It was Keiichi, arriving from his quick trek back to her hospital room to retrieve his cello of which he carried now on his shoulders. He held a rainbow-colored scarf on his other hand, a gift he had given a couple of years before.
It was on the tip of her tongue to deny it but was unable to for Keiichi looped the scarf around her neck, intentionally obscuring her mouth. A teasing smile hovered on his lips as he massaged the forming furrow on her brows.
"D-Don't you think I'm a l-little overdressed?" came Shouko's muffled voice.
He bestowed her that glorious grin of his, the one which lit up her bleak world. "No. You look . . . cute."
Ignoring the thunderous beating of her heart, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath to quell the butterflies within. She was growing weaker every minute, her fragile body unable to stand the harsh weather and chilly air.
But she knew it was worth it, every hardship on this day, for tomorrow will never come.
Keiichi had carried Shouko on his back from the hospital and had her seated on the bench provided, arranging her winter habiliment with the ease and gentleness of a lover; a best friend in their case. Nevertheless, it never failed to make her heart skip and redden her cheeks—his patient care and sincere tolerance towards her, that is. If she could alter time, she'd spend her life with a man like Keiichi.
Or Keiichi himself.
She offered him a tentative smile as he settled beside her, reclining his large package by the bench's side, then snaking his arm around her shoulders. That action alone diverted her from her thoughts.
Together, they watched the scenery before them: snowflakes raining down from the sky above, its white crystals coating the greenery of the land little by little making it glistened brought by the light's reflection.
Is this how heaven looks like? she wondered as she snuggled close to Keiichi, seeking more of his warmth. He heeded to her wish, asking her to rest her head on his shoulder. She complied, feeling herself growing warmer at their intimate position.
"Is it to your liking?" he asked several heartbeats later.
Cheeks flushed, voice breathless, she replied, "It is very pr-pretty."
"Yes. It is." Yet as he said it, he was looking at her longingly. Her alone, with that unfathomable expression on his face.
Unable to meet his gaze, she looked down at the tracks they—he—made from the hospital building where she had lived most of her life.
"Ten years. It has been a l-long time since we first met, ne?"
"Was it? I didn't notice. Time does not seem to matter as long as I'm with you."
Stripping off one pair of gloves with his teeth, he did the same for Shouko and accomplishing the task, intertwined their hands. It was a devoted act on Keiichi's side and her heart warmed at his sacrifice.
"Remember the time when w—we first met?" she chattered on, undeterred by the shivering she did due to the cold.
Hearing the quiver from her voice, the cellist pulled her closer, his arms encircling her in a tender embrace.
"How could I ever forget? Meeting you was one of the best episodes in my life."
Keiichi looked on, his eyes almost in his usual dazed state, as his mind wandered again in the past he once knew.
.
I was but a boy of six, an innocent of reality, when I first laid eyes on the belle of the season. All mussy blond curls sticking out everywhere, dirt smudges on my cheeks, and a wrinkled, oversized coat draped around me, I was not the exact image of a gentle boy for the lady-girl.
She was sitting on the park bench, her head raised upwards as she gazed at the sky with the same longing as he to his cello. Hands fisted on her side, short legs dangling on the seat, she sang a silent melody-one self-made yet pleasant to the ears in lieu with her tentative and playful voice.
She did not hear me when I approached, too absorb with her observation of the sky.
"What is there to see?" I asked, looking up as well to see what had caught her earnest attention.
Seconds passed of her silence and I looked back at her, at those wide magenta eyes of hers. I met her unblinking gaze with my own.
I grinned. I won.
Suddenly shy, her lashes lowered and her hands rested on her lap. I thought she was a lone, wilting flower with her teal head bowed low.
With a hint of childish mischief, I scooted next to her, much to her surprise.
"Wh-What are you d-doing?" she asked, moving away from me.
"Hmmm." I never gave her an answer for I had tilted my head and studied the heavens. "What is there to see?" I asked again.
Her fingers tightened and her nose wrinkled as she debated with herself. I anticipated her reply. "I was w-waiting for snow."
"Snow?" I pondered at the bizarre reply and came up with: "It will come later."
Her face showed glee when she looked at me. She was indeed a belle especially adorned with a smile.
"Really?"
"Really," I emphasized with a nod. And saying so, the first drop landed on her nose. I could not help but smile at the sight. "See?"
Somehow, I found myself running with her in the park; like naughty children we laughed and played and screeched. I thought that was the happiest day of my life for there was something special about ma belle.
Shouko Fuyuumi was a fragile little thing . . . but a brave one to boot.
Halfway through however, she stumbled, her feet tripping on a slightly raised brick among the many that makes out the park's pavement. She had fallen so hard that if it weren't for the loud 'thud' I had heard I wouldn't have known she fell over.
"Fuyuumi-chan!" I said both in exclamation and question.
In an instant I was at her side, helping her out as she tries to kneel to recover from her unexpected plunge. Then she trembled.
Recognizing the signs I came closer, reflexively crooning to her just like how Onee-chan do, telling her not to cry when she did anyway. Her tears made me anxious; they caused a knot on my chest, an intense sensation I could not fathom.
For once, I was wide-awake, heavy-lidded eyes opened as I stared down at the little lady before me.
One moment I was comforting her with words alone, and the next she was in my arms, her wailing halted as my lips touched her forehead; a mother's comfort.
Her surprise face reflected on mine and then something happened: an emotion akin to trust flicked on her magenta orbs.
And at that moment, I knew I was going to be her protector.
.
Shouko released a contented sigh as she burrowed herself more into the warmth brought by the young lad.
"I've a-always dreamed of this moment. To get out of my bedroom on a winter day and enjoy and play with the snow like the children I've watched for years." She giggled at this as memories of their childhood enjoying the winter spell flooded her thoughts again.
"But with... with my w-weak health, I was unable to," she added although this time her voice came in a dangerous whisper.
Keiichi froze; body going totally stiff as realization hit him hard on his gut. It only took her alarmingly soft voice for him to grasp the inevitability of his best friend's fate and that thought had brought fear clawing its way through his throat, almost choking him.
"But now, my dreams came t—true because of Keiichi-kun."
A cough, and Keiichi was all over her again, his fear heightening every second. He fussed even more, panic written all over his face. She settled seconds later, motioning at the cellist that she's still okay, squeezing his hand in assurance.
"Keiichi-kun who was always there when I need him... always ready to help... always ready to sacrifice for my sake... always keeping secrets from me."
Keiichi chuckled, both at her words and in slight relief, and before he knew it, a tear has shamelessly fallen. Then another, followed by another one.
"What do you mean?" he asked not even bothering to wipe the tears caressing his face.
"I am g—going to away, am I not? I heard you and okaa-san and otou-san talking to the doctor. Okaa-san was sobbing and otou-san bullying Mamiru-sensei into curing my sickness immediately."
It wasn't really a surprise to him—her knowing about her imminent death. Yet he would have very much preferred keeping it a secret to her in the end. His heart ached once more at Shouko's bitter fate and held her yet again both for his and her sake; his desperate struggle to hold on to her and her source of courage to face the unavoidable.
"You were never to know that."
The clarinettist mustered all her strength to make a slight shake of her head to express her disagreement.
"You did not have to hide it, Keiichi-kun. I would know one way or another."
The blonde lad has nothing to say at this and thus has gone silent. They were quiet for a moment before Souko spoke again.
"I'm glad I met you... Keiichi."
That was all it took and Keiichi felt himself started breaking inside. He didn't want to lose her. Not now, not ever. And he silently prayed for a miracle as he held her even more, tears streaming the curves of his cheeks as he laid it on top of her teal-colored hair.
Shouko.
"I made a wish once. W—Wished for a miracle to happen," the clarinettist said moments later as if reading Keiichi's mind and the latter slightly paused at this.
She took a deep breath before continuing, words coming in long pauses, her voice almost inaudible. "A-And then... you came... and... I knew right away you were... my miracle."
Her eyes fluttered close and a smile graced her ashen lips.
A sob. A choking sob and Keiichi had to hide his face by the crook of her neck to keep him from crying out loud in a desperate plea for benevolence.
Please.
"Don't sleep. Not yet, Shouko," he pleaded, nearly gasping from all his crying. "Don't leave me." His next words were beseeching, pure yet despairing.
"I'll always . . . be with you. P—Please play for me."
"Of course."
And so Keiichi played, notes resounding in reflection to his melancholic sentiments—his shattering heart. Yet in the midst of those disheartening tone and poignant melody, a flicker of something akin to faith and devotion for the only woman he love—and would love—escalated to slowly conceal the hurt and the anguish he initially felt. By the time he reached the pinnacle of his piece he had only one emotion residing his once bitter heart—love.
Shouko rested still by his side, eyes closed and a warm smile still etched on her face, taking her last breath as Keiichi draw his bow across his cello strings in a lingering epilogue.
.
A tear fell from his eye and he made a move to gently brush the remains away, taking a deep breath to settle his still aching heart. He held the letter in his hands, eyes hovering over it for the very last time. And then, finding enough courage to stir, he made a move to fold the letter close in finality.
Depositing the letter back into the treasure box, he covered it with its lid, locking it again with its silver key, and carried it under his arms as he gave the hospital room a final once-over. Satisfied, he moved about to definitively leave the place. But before he could entirely close the door, he gave Shouko's final words in her letter a last thought, erasing the loneliness he had felt, bringing about his angelic smile that he only offers to her.
.
I have not said this to you even once for fear that it might only bring you great anguish in our parting. But I realized that keeping this from you would only bring me my greatest regret in my whole life. And so I'm telling you this now, in all sincerity . . .
I love you.
Only yours,
Shouko