Chapter 2: Saito Hikari

A soccor ball, battered and dusty from excessive use, made its flight across the air. This poor object had seen its better days, but such was the fate of all objects used in children's play-to be abused until they physically could not function anymore. We all know it is not because of the neglect of parents, but because children care not, as they cover all blemish with their imaginations and focus on the essence of the play itself. Saito tracked it with his eyes, marveling at its temporary yet glorious flight, from the place where he was sitting: under the shadow of a tree next to the school yard. The cloudless light-blue sky of the early afternoon, a ceiling with endless height, provided a background to the many times misused ball-a stark contrast no one could miss. In the eyes of the boy was the admiration for the freedom the inanimate object exhibited. Alas, all things must come to an end. The ball went through the defense of the goalkeep and splashed into the net, making a hard landing on the sandy ground. A score! The brunette boy who just accomplished the feat waved brightly and proudly in the direction of Saito. Who else could this be other than Netto? It was unclear who he was waving to because next to Saito was

"Netto kun!"

A pink haired girl of fine complexions. She made an enthusiastic reply, thorougly convinced that the celebratory handwaving of the brunette boy was dedicated to her. She was called Mayl, the neighbor to the Hikari brothers. Their history tracked to the time before the elementary school days. It was clear as day how she thought of Netto. Saito could see it in her sparkling eyes full of hope and life. She would have been a good friend of his if not for her constant competetion with him for the attention of Netto. She was a good girl, no doubt, and, if, by a miracle, she stayed this way as she grew up (Saito knew that people were very prone to change as they grew up. His mind matured too early for his own age due to his condition and frequent visits to the hospital where he saw and heard the most raw emotions and conversations, and now grasped such nuggets of truths in life. A sad state that no child deserved, really), then she would make a fine companion to Netto. For now, however, he had no intention of sharing. His days were numbered-this he was well aware, and he would've died many years sooner had it not been the devotion of his mother, Haruka, father, Yuichiro, and the overprotection by his little brother, Netto. The entire family kept their undivided vigilance towards him, and at this point they were better than paramedics at dealing with his heart insufficiency episodes should they arise.

Netto had always occupied the center of his heart. From a clinical point of view, this was hardly surprising as the two spent the time together the most, and Netto acted like a wounded lion whenever he thought Saito was under a possible harm. The affection of human is quantitative, and Netto accrued excess of this currency from Saito. Therefore, Saito, in his selfishness, concluded that, before he expired, he would not share Netto with Mayl. A 10 year old boy desiring to monopolize what he perceives as good might not be noteworthy, but Saito's intention started to border on the territory of obsession. Perhaps this was simply the inevitable outcome if the supernatural bond between the Hikari twins was considered. According to their mother, Haruka, they so often synchronized their postures in sleep, even when they were located at two different places. They also seemingly turned in their beds at the same time, to the same direction. The only difference in the bed habit was that Saito had no trouble sleeping alone, whereas Netto was prone to waking up in the absence of his brother and always searched for him with drowsy eyes and his pillow in hand. This developed into a strange weekend morning routine where Saito, a morning person, woke up quietly and left his sleepyhead of a brother to explore the dreamland at peace, Netto followed suit in ten minutes, found Saito, dragged him back to the bed, and went for the second round of sleeping. Over the past few weeks, Netto, who was finally fed up with enduring the displeasure of being interrupted in his sleep, aptly deduced that the cause was the absence of his brother, and started sleeping in the same bed while hugging him. In this way, Saito could not leave in the morning due to the fear of waking his brother, and Netto got to sleep to his heart's content during the weekends.

"Saito niisan-! You saw that goal?"

The brunette made it clear to whom he was waving. Saito concluded that Netto must have not heard Mayl, for it was not his wont to ignore her in this way. Yet he could not help but develop a smirk on his face with a sense of superiority over their childhood friend. 'See?' he gloated. 'Netto always looks at me first.' Apparently, Mayl did not care about this humiliation. Do not be mistaken: though she appeared as one of the most sweet-natured persons, had the same situation arose between her and someone else, she was sure to find a way to even the score. As for Saito, she endured him. His HBD was a public knowledge and she knew his remaining days were short. His condition had been deteriorating such that he started missing more school days than his usual. Mayl's pity and fear for his future always weighed heavier than her pride and prejudice. Besides, he was not be her long term competition in her bid for Netto. This analysis was not from the maliciousness of her character, but she was simply aware of the surroundings and the harsh reality. She was a girl, after all, and girls tended to mature earlier. In fact, she had been most kind and understanding to Saito as well, which was the reason why Netto could focus on the play knowing that Saito was in good hands. Should anything happen, he could trust Mayl to hand out emergency medications in a timely manner.

"Yes I did-"
"I saw the goal! That was amazing Netto!"

Saito's reply was drowned in Mayl's enthusiasm. Perhaps this was a small revenge to his smirk earlier. He could not be entirely sure, since it was impossible to determine how the enigmatic minds of girls worked.

"Thanks Mayl!"

The sincere reply of gratitude was quickly followed with a hesitant request that was important in maintaining the dignity of the boy.

"I saw you cheering for me too, but you really didn't have to... now everyone is going tease me by saying you are my girlfriend."

In the world of boys, a girlfriend at the age of 10 is a weakness to be ridiculed. A girlfriend at the age of 20 is an object of envy. Therefore, should they be seriously mistaken as a couple, Netto's dignity would be irrepairably damaged. Mayl could not care less about the esoteric politics of immature male society.

"Well, you know I don't mind what they say."

Saito's eyes opened wide in surprise. He quickly scanned Mayl and Netto to see if his fear had come true. Even if he took into account Mayl's feelings towards his little brother, that was a very bold way of appealing oneself. Thankfully, the dense skull of his little brother was completely filled with things young boys liked-sports, virus busting, net battling, playing truth or dare, fooling around... and the indirect confession of Mayl did not penetrate. Saito let out a virtual sigh of relief in his mind.

'Mayl, please do not take him from me before I expire.'

There is a phrase, a wisdom of old, that says [guns for boys dolls for girls]. Netto was the perfect embodiment of that stereotype. Such activity! What abundance of joy of life was present in him! Since Netto's head was completely impervious to Mayl's advances, Saito wondered then what percentage of Netto's thoughts he occupied. Had it not been for his illness, he was not sure if he would have mattered much to his brother. This was a fearsome thought, for the imagination then naturally drifted to how useless he was to Netto's life in his current state. That he was a burden, and that his task effectively ended at the moment of his birth. See, mother Haruka used to tell Saito that he gave much of himself away to Netto in her womb, and that he was born underweight compared to his sibling, and ensured that Netto would grow healthy without any risk of HBD. Seeing how Netto had double the energy of a normal boy and double the appetite, Saito was somewhat convinced. If this was true, then that act was single handedly the best decision Saito had ever made in his short existence. His only regret was that he did not give more. Had he done so, he would've become a stillborn, Netto even healthier (the question of whether this was even physically possible was another matter), and Netto would have been free from the burden that was called Saito in his life. Part of him gleed in the tragedy of his situation, for it meant that Netto was likely to remember him in the days ahead, when he was gone.

Saito slowly stood up, or more precisely, Netto held his hand and pulled him up after noticing his intention to do so. Saito's weakness was not as disabling as Netto wanted to believe, but he did not protest, for the attention from his brother brought happiness that sprang forth from the deepest part of his heart. When Saito was firmly on his two feet, he did not let go of his brother and hugged him. Netto's shirt was wet from the sweat and his body was hot from the running.

"Netto-kun, that was an amazing goal."
"Th-thanks."

Saito sniffed at Netto's neck a few times.

"and you smell like sunshine and spring wind"
"!"

Netto pushed away Saito. He was blushing from embarrassment. Well, he had been blushing since the hug. The unfiltered expression of affection from his brother was sometimes too much to bear publicly. However, the actual reason for the pushing away was

'You didn't have to say I stink in such a roundabout way!'

...because Netto thought it was a euphemism. Well, Netto currently emitting a sweaty odor was not entirely untrue, as evidenced by Mayl keeping her distance, and Netto was not planning to rub in his unpleasant scent on his brother. In truth, Saito did not mind, and he was sincere in his remark, but if Netto had found out about this, then he would've been flustered beyond control, caught between a sense of repulsion of Saito's over-attachment and a sense of happiness from Saito's acceptance of everything that is from him.

"W-well, we better get going then! The game is over now and I am starving! Let me say goodbye to my friends real quick"

And then as free as wind Netto ran back to his group. The game was not a full team match but a friendly skirmish by six boys. The goalkeep who just lost was named Dekao. He did not take the result well and his attempt to salvage what was remaining of his ego could be heard from the distance, as he shouted something along the line of [you might win in soccer this time, but I will surely defeat you in netbattling with my Gutsman]. Dekao was a large boy (larger than his peers by almost two standard deviations) with skin darkened under the sun and crude facial features. He almost looked like a boar turned into a human, and his personality matched this impression as he was prone to relying on his above average strength to solve problems. Gutsman was his custom netnavi whose appearance was equally rough, resembling an amalgam of a silverback gorilla and a construction worker. Possessing a strength equally befitting such an uncivilized appearance, Gutsman had been handily beating Netto's generic (at this point arguably outdated) green colored netnavi in netbattles. Netto so far refused to give up, and came up with different strategies every few days. The solution continued to elude him. Perhaps the solution did not exist.

First, an explanation is in order. The world at this point in time was one where internet network was so extensively built that the size of the cyberworld was said to be holding more information content than the entire Earth. Mankind had created a whole new world and then, in the most stupefying display of incompetence, lost control of their own creation. The network continuously expanded, mostly illegally, and no one knew what existed in the deepest parts of it. Whether the network was a trimph of technology or a hubris that would burn down the humanity was a hot topic of debate. To help and protect humans from the cyber attacks (of most heinous intentions, of which there are no shortage of in our world as well), a race of artificial intelligence was made. These AIs were called 'Net Navigators,' called netnavis as a shorthand. They were humanoid in looks and possessed a range of emotions to interact with their masters. To prevent netnavis from gaining complete independence, and therefore, rebelling against humans, a safety measure was installed in place. It was one of the most cruel methods imaginable-netnavis were designed to love their master with all their heart and strength. Thus there was a saying among the workers of Scilab: 'every netnavi desires for its master.' There was no order a netnavi would not obey (it might protest, but no worries! Ultimately it obeys), even that of self destruction and crimes.

When humans gained this race of most patient, loving, and obedient slaves, there was only one natural response. Surely, the imaginations of man are evil from his youth. The slaves were pitted against each other for sport, and this cruelty came to be elegantly named as 'netbattling.' Now established as the primary method of dealing with all things hostile in the net, even elementary schools had the curriculum to teach this technique. The private netbattling on the school grounds was prohibited by the official school policy, but no one enforced it, for those entrusted with the task were too technologically inept.

Mayl watched the exchange between the brothers with a hope for the future. In time, she was sure to replace the portion of Saito in the Netto's heart, and they would hug as lovers. They would be married and be happy ever after, just like the countless bedtime stories she read. The time was on her side.

.

.

The trio was on their way home. As Mayl was a neighbor of the Hikari brothers, it was their habit to say goodbye only by the gates of their houses. Mayl assumed a highly talkative personality when she was with Netto. Saito tried to walk behind the two silently, not wanting to be an awkward barrier between them, but Netto was adamant about keeping his brother between him and her. Whenever Saito drifted behind, Netto also slowed down. Could it be that something about her bold advances made him uncomfortable at a subconscious level, and he was using Saito as a buffer? A simpler explanation was that Netto was a worrywart and was keeping Saito in his line of sight at all times.

So it was, Saito was stuck in the middle, forced to endure the endless talking of the two to his right and to his left. Constant conversation of various topics hit both of his eardrums. No, correction: it was mostly Mayl leading the talk and Netto responding unenthusiastically. Saito's right side, which was the Mayl side, suffered considerably from this arrangement. Saito actively dodged the conversations, already feeling tired from hearing alone, only making most neutral responses to avoid involvement whenever Netto tried to make him parttake in his suffering. Saito preferred it this way-a perfect division of labor.

"-and Netto, what did you fill in for the survey today?"

Mayl was referring to the future career survey they were given today. Saito was, well, exempt. Ms. Mari, their homeroom teacher, did not even bother giving him one. He was also interested in what Netto had to say, so he quietly listened.

"I don't know...I left it blank."
"Ah, so that's why Ms. Mari made you stay after classes today. That means you eventually wrote something there, forced or not. Programmer, I assume?"
"Just because my papa is one does not mean I want to be one."
"I think it suits you"
"I'm not that smart. Everyone will compare me to him, and then I will become a disappointment. No thank you."
"You can't say that before you try! So, what did you write?"
"So persistent, just like Ms. Mari...I told her I will think about it when people figure out how to cure HBD and my brother gets it treated. So I wrote down 'Saito' in there. She did not take it so kindly...she stared at me with a bit of annoyance, crossed out my answer herself, and filled it in as 'researcher.' Said it was close enough if my dream was to find a cure for Saito."

Mayl made a quick glance to Saito.

"Netto, do you think it is possible?"
"What is?"
"The cure."
"Papa was optimistic. He said HBD was fundamentally a structural problem and therefore a definitive treatment will come in the form of surgery. Apparently there are some experiments going on using mice, and he estimates Saito might be able to get a treatment in few years."

Saito knew it was not true.

'Papa, why did you say that to Netto? We know it is not true. I heard you making calls in the living room, and when you saw me watching, frozen at the edge of stairs, at the end of all that, you hugged me in tears. That was not a dream nor an illusion. You said 'I am so sorry, Saito, but I will find a way,' and I believe you will, in the end...you would not have said that had you truly believed a solution would be found in time. You said it to assure yourself, not me, though you projected your insecurities onto me. Then, why woud you tell Netto this? Could it be...you...you want Netto to start thinking about the future! That is it! Because we both know Netto has no plan other than me! And this means all hopes are lost for me. Yet you did not give up; your eyes had a fire in them. I refuse to believe you can give up and still be resolute. What is in your mind? Why are you keeping us all in the dark?'

Absorbed in thought, Saito no longer heard the conversation around him. He had accepted his own fate a long time ago and hardly had any future plans for himself. If he was asked if he was ready to leave the world, then the answer was no. If he had a choice, he would always choose to stay one more day with his brother. If his father had a plan, then he felt he was entitled to know. Hope to him was like a good wine to an alcoholic. He was so easily drunk, and when he woke up from it, he needed more of it. Making various conjectures about scenarios in which he lived on, while limiting his thoughts within the bounds of what was plausible, was a mentally taxing exercise.

When about ten minutes passed a new type of fatigue struck Saito. He could not keep up with the walking pace of the other two. The way home felt like a long hillside incline. It was Netto's habit to take detour when fancy struck him, to walk by the brook, as the narrow dirt path by the small stream that cut across the ACDC town-the town where the boys lived-was a favored route of his. The path involved some inclines, which was perfect for the active Netto whose body always ached for more activity, but was found demanding to Saito in recent days. Saito looked around to see if this was the current case. To his surprise, Netto was taking the flattest and shortest route to home. Surely, the need for food and shower was a strong motivator.

Saito's breath became progressively labored. His heart was beating faster and faster. He needed more oxygen, but breathing faster did not help. The pain from the shortness of oxygen started to emerge. The shortage of oxygen was not from the lack of breathing rate, but from the heart failing to pump enough blood to the body. By the knowledge gained from numerous similar past experiences, he could project what was imminent. His left hand clutched the chest and twisted the shirt in frustration. The torso hunched as the muscles start to enter a sustained contraction in response to pain and stress. In a fit of dizziness, Saito found the world spinning around him, and at the end of this vertigo, he was looking at his shoelaces, halted in his tracks. The HBD attack was here. He looked up to find help, only to discover Netto and Mayl walking well ahead. Their topic now drifted to the new curry house that was scheduled to open in a few days.

'Of course! Talk about curry and Netto becomes so enthusiastic that he forgets his surroundings!'

Saito made a quick mental note: 'in Netto...curry trumps Saito.' He extended his right arm forward, but the two were already beyond his physical reach. All he could squeeze out was a desparate call for help.

"Ne-Nett-o-ku-n-"

Netto did not fail to catch what was only a faint voice from behind, which was quickly buried in the sound of traffic nearby. His mind separated itself from the intoxicating topic at hand and became aware of few anomalies before him. One, Saito was no longer between him and Mayl. Two, that voice was undoubtedly from the one whom he swore to protect. During acute HBD attacks, Saito lost the ability to medicate himself. The facts came together like puzzle pieces, revealing a frightening revelation. His head could not have turned backward faster.

"SAITO NIISAN!"

He sprinted like a mother lion to its distressed cub, took out the emergency medication in the most agitated yet precise manner, put two tablets under the Saito's tongue, made him sit down, and checked his breathing with the left hand. He then screamed at Mayl to call the ambulence.

.

.

It became clear to all who were involved that Saito's condition was no longer manageable with the current method. He was admitted to the Den city hospital with no future date for discharge planned. Haruka remained strangely optimistic and hopeful, although she knew this time the severity was different. Saito went through another attack in three days while staying in the hospital, and he already appeared a bit paler and thinner. 'So what?' Haruka steeled herself. 'Doctors said he would not live for five years. He has proven them wrong-every single one of them!' To be fair, Haruka and Netto's extreme insulation of Saito from the external risk factors had worked a miracle. It was already an astonishing outlier of statistics that Saito survived this long with HBD. With the admission to the ward, even the perpetually occupied and elusive Yuichiro made visits in the evening, with Haruka, every day. As for Netto, well, he came to the hospital straight after school and did his homework by the bedside. He returned home with his parents when the sun was down, seemingly only spending time there to sleep. Netto always looked insecure and reluctant when it was time to leave. Given his sleeping habit, Saito wondered how Netto was doing, but the question never found its way out through his mouth, as he very well knew the conversation would be deflected and then pivoted into the discussion of his current condition. The air of the room always became heavy and downtrodden when his declining health was brought up. Saito did not like that. If this was to be the end, then he would rather spend the remaining time in the brighter atmosphere.

On the fourth day after the admission, Netto happily reported to Saito that he got permission from Papa and Mama to sleep over in the ward every Saturday. There were five more patients in the ward. Saito called his parents to confirm. As much as the idea appealed to him, he was unwilling to let Netto spend his night in such an unaccommodating environment. A few hours later, Yuichiro sent a reply to Saito that starting this weekend he will be moved to a single room, where there will be a sofa next to his bed, on which Netto can sleep. So the matter was settled.

From the morning to afternoon, when Saito was alone, he surreptitiously roamed and eavesdropped on the patients and their families around him. To him, this rather suspicious activity became a singularly interesting occupation, partly due to the boredom, but also partly due to a vague urgency brewing inside him. With the instinct warning him, like a miner's canary, that his end was near, the matter of life and death piqued his interest. Even his over-educated and illustrious father seemed to be as uninformed as a babe regarding this subject. Then, what better time and place were there to explore this than here and now?

It was certainly a difficult topic for all. Nurses told him that only the dead knew with definite certainty, but based on what they have observed over the years, it was difficult to rule out the existence of the afterlife and the supernatural. The reasons for this opinion, however, were as various as the number of nurses he posed this question to. Some said it was because they saw things when people passed away-machines reacted in a way beyond their factory specifications, and they could pinpoint the exact moment the life of a person left the world. Surely, they said, such observations were best explained by admitting the existence of souls. Some said it was because of the bizarre experiences they had during some night shifts, when they were making rounds through the wards. Some said it was because they witnessed miraculous recovery of patients that defied all known scope of modern medicine. According to them, it was the clearest evidence of the supernatural and therefore the existence of the afterlife.

Then there were the patients themselves. Some despaired because they were cured. The financial responsibility, from which they were exempted with the expectation of death, caught up to them and shackled them into a life of economic slavery. There were patients on the opposite end of the spectrum, willing to sell their entire savings for another day of life, but what could not be done could not be bargained with. They all predictably expired kicking and screaming, saying they did not want to die. Some of them calmed down at the moment of their last breath, reporting they saw their ancestors waiting for them across a field or a river. Some entered the most violent struggle, reporting they saw demons and monsters waiting for them. Extremely rarely, some were ecstatic at the deathbed, reporting the vision that was promised by their religions-most frequently observed in Christians. Whatever the case, doctors dismissed the reports as a form of delirium generated by the last spark of the brain.

Saito was unsatisfied. He needed an answer. Otherwise, what could he tell to Netto? The investigation at least allowed Saito to narrow down the afterlife into three cases. If it was heaven, then Saito imagined he would wait for Netto by the pearly gates, so they could enter together. If it was hell, then Saito was determined to pray that Netto would not come here, for the suffering was enough for one. If it was the complete obliteration of being, returning to the void, then Saito would tell Netto to live a life without regrets, and not to dwell too much in the misfortunes, including his brother's premature death, so that may his life be filled with happiness, not meaningless sorrows. But Saito liked the idea of heaven. It meant he got to stay with Netto forever. He imagined what it would be like to spend time together for a thousand years and still not care about the finity. Saito shuddered from the pleasure that emanated from the thought. Oh, only if it was true!

On the first Saturday after admission, Netto came to visit before noon. He had two homemade bentos in his hand. Saito's condition was good enough to walk around, and nurses informed them that they should vacate and spend some time outside until they prepare the new single ward for Saito. So it was decided: they shall have a small picnic in the hospital garden, under the trees.

Slowly strolling between shrubs and flowers in the cool of the day, with Netto by his side, Saito was captivated by how pleasant the experience could be. The bliss of this simple moment was multifaceted and could not be explained by few simple words. The leisure, the light without the oppressing heat, the companionship, each had an equal part in the composition. 'Ah' an epiphany struck him. 'A part of heaven must be like this, a garden.' The details of the world around him entered his eyes almost forcefully. Saito could not help but notice the beauty in the chaotic patterns of tree branches, the softeness of flower petals, the veins that lined the freshly sprouted leaves, and the sound of bees intermittently tickling his ears. He looked at Netto, and noticed the movement of his eyelids, the eyelashes, a pimple that formed on his forehead (telling Netto to stop wearing his bandana even when he was sweating was without results), the strands of brown hair that swayed left and right according to the direction of the wind, like a sea of reeds. How did he not appreciate them before, the beauty in the minutiae of the world?

"...Saito Niisan, are you okay? Are you even listening to what I am saying? Should we go back inside?"
"No, Netto kun, I'm sorry, it's just...everything looks so vivid."

Netto studied Saito's face, trying to decide whether that meant they should go back or not. His brother did not look so pale today and was in good spirits. It did not take long for Netto to diagnose that the picnic was not off the limits. The garden air was supposed to do him good, as the effect of the hospital air on him was questionable. Otherwise, why would he be, all of a sudden, making intense observations of everything mundane like a two year old child who just discovered the outside world?

"So, what were you saying again?"
"Niisan...and to think you always tell me to focus in class."

The annoyance was evident in the tone of Netto's voice. Saito was an expert in this matter and knew exactly what was to be done. He gently buried his hand in the hairs of the brunette, and proceeded to stroke with a smile.

"Looks like someone's pouting because he did not get my full attention"
"...mou..."
"I'll be listening now. I promise."

And that did the trick. Netto glanced at Saito to check if he was indeed listening this time. Netto continued.

"So I was saying-"

Netto told him everything. Absolutely everything, from what he had for breakfast each day to the recentmost gossips circulating in the class. It relieved Saito to hear that Netto's social life was not completely in tatters. With daily visits that lasted the entire afternoon and evening, Saito had been worrying if Netto was neglecting his other responsibilities.

"Oh, and Mayl said she will visit you tomorrow. Would you be okay?"
'Mayl? Me? More like coming here to see you and ask you out for a Sunday date.'

The bitter opinion almost escaped his mouth, but Saito quickly swallowed it back. The experience was as revolting as swallowing one's own vomit. However, it had to be endured, for his brother needed not to know the imperfections in his personality, infected with jealousy.

"I don't mind an extra company. I suspect she will ask you to hang out with her in the afternoon. The hospital air is not good for you, there's nothing here you can play with, and you've been staying here every day. Tomorrow's weather should be nice. Maybe you should refresh yourself-"

It did not take long for Saito to realize the delivery of his message was poorly conducted. Netto, clearly hurt at his brother for even suggesting the separation, replied like a puppy facing abandonment.

"Niisan, tell me...have I been a bother?"
'Uh oh'

One word misspoken and there would be a very sad Netto kun. Sad Netto was a disaster. It was a result that had to be avoided at all costs.

"No, absolutely not! It's not like I have anything to do here."

Glancing at Netto after a vehement denial, Saito realized it was not enough to soothe him; something had to be said in addition.

"And all I do is sit by the window and think about you."

That and eavesdropping on others. There was no need to tell everything. Saito successfully bridled his tongue this time. Thankfully, Netto brightened.

"Good! I already told her I am not going anywhere tomorrow. Since you want extra company so much, I'll now ask if everyone wants to come and see you too!"
'Netto kun, I don't think Mayl will like that very much.'

Maybe Netto was well aware of this too. If all of their friends came at the same time as a group appointment, then Mayl would be hard pressed to find an excuse to stay behind and occupy Netto. Maybe he also did not want to share his time with his brother as much as the reverse was true. Maybe.

Having reached the middle of the garden, the Hikari twins took a seat on a bench under a tree blossoming with flowers. Saito opened his bento. The contents were obviously catered towards Saito's preferences-it was the mother's wordless letter of love. His broken heart was tender. Little evidence of empathy, embedded in abstract forms, penetrated deeply. Tears welled up in his eyes, but Saito quickly wiped them off, lest his brother became wary. Next to him was Netto proficiently manipulating his PET (PET stands for PErsonal Terminal. It's an equivalent to a smartphone but with a netnavi in it), sending out a message of invitation to all of his friends.

'What a wonderful day. May every day be like this.'

.

.

It was only 3 in the afternoon when Dr. Yuichiro made his visit to his sons. He brought with him a strange cart and a helmet. The cart had a machine, and the helmet had few dozen wires attaching it to the machine. It was a bizzarre contraption that was more of a caricature of a first generation EEG recorder than a proper device. Even stranger was how he did not come with Mrs. Hikari. Was it truly a coincidence that he brought this burdensome object the first day Saito was reassigned to a private ward? Yuichiro quickly installed the machine in the ward, as if everything was planned and simulated beforehand. The helmet was hurriedly put on Saito's head. The impatience of Yuichiro was visible, as his hands stumbled several times while trying to turn on the machine. When Saito curiously inquired about the machine and its purpose, Yuichiro got angry and only used most vague terms to describe them. Saito noticed how the face of his father was stern and full of fear. Who or what could be possibly chasing him? When the work was done, Yuichiro quickly yet awkwardly excused himself, said something about needing to return to Scilab, and left with the strange machine.

What just happened? Saito and Netto looked at each other. Netto shrugged his shoulders in confusion while his brother stared with wide eyes at the door through which his papa just stormed out, trying to gain an insight of the situation. The door offered no answers.

That night, right after the nurse on duty made a final check on Saito around midnight, Netto sneaked into the bed and slept while hugging him per usual. The hug was a bit tighter.

.

.

One week passed. Another Saturday. Saito checked the clock on the wall. The hands showed that it was roughly 3 A.M. The sleep escaped him, though the fatigue dogged him as a permanent companion. Regardless, he dared not to move much, as he could feel the hands of Netto on his chest and beneath his right arm. The warmth of the body next to him brought comfort like no other.

He had two attacks this week. His health was in a freefall. The legs became heavy-pitting edema developed as a consequence of decompensated heart failure. He could not make a stroll through the garden as a nasal cannula for constant supplementation of oxygen and a line to central vein were installed for parenteral nutrition. Saito remembered the low level terror as he saw the needles penetrating below his clavicle surprisingly deeply, and causing pain in parts he could not describe. The nurse must have scratched somewhere inside his vein during the installation. His vital signs were constantly monitored via a clip that was on his index finger. Should his heart fail, a team of emergency response was to be automatically paged, and for the past two attacks, Saito heard the first responder shouting "code blue," from which he deduced that it was the name of the resuscitation team. Saito snickered; the name reminded him of Power Rangers. 'So there is code red? green? pink?' It was one of those simple silly ideas that commonly infiltrated a tired sleepless head.

Saito checked the clock again only to find a few minutes had passed. The hands of the clock pointed 3:12. In a sleepless boredom, his thought drifted to the happy moments in his life. All of them involved Netto one way or the other, and sometimes his father, Yuichiro. See, he seldom graced the family with his presence that any time it happened the occasion was immediately promoted into a memorable event. Saito continued to shuffle through his memory, triyng to find when Netto was happiest. It did not take long to find the answer: their birthday. Each year, it was a celebration of his survival, disguised as a celebration of Netto's growth and maturation. Each celebration helped to wipe away the fear and insecurity that Netto felt, for it was deemed as an assurance that Saito would live for another year.

It was time for Saito to be a realist. He would probably not be present in his precious brother's upcoming birthday, but he still had time to prepare a small gift. He could write a letter in advance so Netto would not feel lonely. He extended his arm gently over Netto and grabbed the PET, in which a generic model of netnavi, green in color, appeared. Before the navi could speak, Saito muted the machine and manually loaded a mail interface. He set the timer of the message to next June 10th. What should he write? He started with a greeting, and then continued with sincere benedictions to bless the little brother's future. He also needed to tell him how much he loved him. And then...

Saito's hands abruptly stopped as regret stormed him. Was it right for him to leave here his hopes and wishes? The more the letter was composed, the more it became predictable that Netto would be devastated upon reading this. His want for Netto's happiness and his need to lay down what was in his heart conflicted. There were things that could only be said through letters, and only after death. Should he..?

It was not difficult for Saito to make a decision, for the need was stronger than the want. When the burden in the heart was released, the words came out in an unstoppable flow. Having finished the letter, he gave it to the navi, who dutifully stored it, where it would remain hidden until the day. With the deed done, the reality suddenly struck him. He would not be there with Netto in their next birthday. A poisonous cocktail of sadness, despair, anger, spiked with denial swirled inside him, like a Kraken's whirlpool, drowning his very soul. The Kraken soon had him in its slimy tentacles. There was no escape. But he wanted to be there. One more year, no two more years, until Netto entered middle school. With whom was he bargaining? God? His vision blurred with tears. Saito wiped his eyes with the left arm that was free from Netto's hold. He could not lose hope yet. He had to live for a few more days, a week, and then two weeks. He would turn them into a month, and...

'Should I erase the letter? Will I then gain hope?'

Saito decided not to.

The sleepless night continued. The clock marked 4:00 A.M. Saito, using his fingers, gently combed through his brother's hair. To touch, they resembled finest satin threads. Surely, Netto inherited them from his mother, unlike Saito, whose hair was stiff and rough, so much so that his back hair tended to protrude backwards than flow down naturally. Although they were monozygotic twins, one strand of their DNA was from their father, and the other from their mother. Seemingly, their bodies decided to use different genes for different parts. Had Netto's hair been as rough as ropes, Saito would still have considered them pleasant, for it was about who, not what. He gazed at the face of the heavy sleeper, squished by the pillow and leaning against his shoulder. To Saito, there was no scene lovlier than this. His brother was a troublemaker while waking, but transformed into a true angel while sleeping. Other than him, and possibly their mother, how many would discover this side of Netto? Even if he grew up, got married, and had a family, Saito doubted he would continue in his habit of sleeping in the same way, hugging his wife through the night. The fact that he was monopolizing an aspect of Netto brought him some consolation.

A sudden cold dread swept Saito. It was a familiar feeling-the aura of the HBD attack, yet he had never felt one this ominous before. Should he wake up his brother? Should he press the button for the emergency call? Indecision and doubt gripped him. A voice of reason whispered behind him almost maliciously: 'this is it, the end.' On the screen next to him where his vital signs were constantly displayed, hearbeat waves started to look irregular in intervals and shape. That was not good. Soon, a code blue team would be paged, and havoc would be released in this room. If this was truly the end, then what was the point? Tonight would transform into the worst trauma of his brother, as he helplessly watched him die, mauled by aggressive CPR, and twisted by electric shocks from the desperate use of the defibrillator. His ribs would be broken, and Netto would hear the fracturing. At least, let there be peace and dignity in his departure. The pain started to emerge, which was to soon drown him like a small boat caught in a stormy sea. He was bound to squirm like a tormented snake sooner or later and wake up Netto.

'God, if you exist, please let this pain go away. Please do not page the code blue team. Let my Netto kun sleep in peace.'

A miracle? If so, then God, who did not hear the cry of Yuichiro for the life of Saito, heard the prayer of the the death of Saito? The pain subsided, and a great peace enveloped him. Saito looked at the monitor. His heart was almost stopping, yet he did not hear anyone rushing toward the ward. Suddenly, the machines turned off. It was not a blackout, for the lights of the room were still functioning. The understanding came to him; a knowledge that was not his entered the heart: his prayers were answered. Saito turned his head to see Netto one last time. He was not awake, but his drool was starting to wet the pillow.

'Oh, you clumsy ma cacahuete.'

With his last strength, Saito wiped off the drool off his brother's mouth using his patientwear sleeves. Saito found his strength leaving him, and his eyelids were becoming as heavy as rocks. It was time to sleep. It felt so good to close the eyes and rest his head against the softness of the pillow. Between the thought of his cherished Netto and the irresistible desire to enter the rest, the extinguishing brain fired its last spark of consciousness:

'Netto kun...

...
...sleep
...'

One birth every 9 seconds, one death every 11 seconds. As long as the earth endures and seasons come and go, there will be harvest in the field every year. Saito's death, however tragic, did not stop the time. The sun rose and birds began their morning chatters. Netto woke up as the morning sunlight penetrated into the room between the narrow gaps of the window blind and hit him directly in the face. It had been a while since he had such a good night's sleep. With eyes closed, Netto yawned and murmured his greetings. His brother was a morning person, and was probably just looking at him.

"Good morning, Saito niisan."

There was no answer. Netto rubbed his eyes and looked up at his brother's face.

"Saito niisan?"