A Lifeline

A little while after lunch, Rokurō fell asleep on the tarp.

He was probably worn out from the past several days, and perhaps relieved after what had happened earlier too. He rolled onto his side and, without saying anything to Yūha, began breathing softly in his sleep.

Yūha pinched a strand of the young man’s bangs between her fingertips and gently lifted it.

“You’re completely passed out. I’m bored, you know.”

As always, there was no one else in the vast park besides the two of them. Their time alone together was quiet and comfortable.

Looking down at Rokurō as he slept peacefully like a child, Yūha realized that she rarely ever got a proper look at his sleeping face.

Because of the air-conditioning situation, the two of them had been sleeping in the same room. But Rokurō went to bed later, while Yūha woke up later. As a result, Yūha was always the one whose sleeping face got seen.

“Grr…”

Thinking about that made her a little embarrassed and, for some reason, annoyed.

She pressed her index finger into Rokurō’s cheek and twisted it around like a drill.

“A maiden’s sleeping face isn’t free, you know.”

Perhaps her voice had reached him in his dreams, because his expression gradually became blatantly displeased. Worried that he might wake up, Yūha pulled her hand away.

Growing bored, she lay down on the tarp too. They had carefully brushed away the dirt so her white dress wouldn’t get dirty. Rokurō had mainly checked the whole area with his hands himself, so she felt safe.

The girl lay on her side and closed her eyes.

(It’s okay. I’m not going anywhere.)

She wouldn’t say the words aloud, but she hoped the feeling would somehow reach him.

She wouldn’t leave Rokurō alone. A new emotion had begun budding inside Yūha—the feeling that, at this moment, she was the only person who could support him.

She had thought it when she saw the pained expression on his face during the call with their mother.

—This person needs me.

She hadn’t needed to hear the conversation to know what it had been about. Their mother had probably asked her to come live with her. Even though they were supposed to be siblings, once again, Yūha alone would be taken away.

She could no longer trust parents who didn’t love Rokurō. A hazy distrust spread through her heart like fog, and it frightened her.

He had probably been thinking something similar. Just before Yūha had taken the phone from him without permission, she had seen fear on Rokurō’s face.

He was not a strong person.

He was someone who had only survived by becoming strong.

If someone as insignificant as her staying beside him could keep even one thing from wrapping itself around Rokurō and dragging him down, then she would stay.

If being separated from her would hurt him, then she would turn down any invitation. She would always come back here.

Until the day someone appeared who could protect him—

I was obsessed with staying alive.

The reason I had worked so hard at studying in middle school and high school was to secure a path that would let me survive.

Even during the absolute worst period of my life, there had always been one thought in my head.

I want to live.

You could also phrase it as:

I don’t want to die.

Well, in the end, there wasn’t much difference between the two.

The simple truth was that I was alive because I wanted to stay alive.

And the person who had given me that obsession… was none other than Yūha.

I remembered how hellish it had been the first time I caught influenza.

It had been around third or fourth grade, when I’d just discovered my family’s secret and had been drifting through life without really understanding anything.

My fever had climbed to thirty-nine degrees Celsius. Whenever I coughed, my throat, head, and every joint in my body ached. My entire body burned as though molten iron had been poured through it, yet a chill had settled along my spine. I could barely stand, and I couldn’t even sit up by myself to drink water.

Both of my parents worked, and neither took the day off, so they left me home alone.

That was the first time I truly understood what death was.

It was also the first time I’d cried from loneliness.

Back then, all I ever thought about was what I had to do to make them love me too. I resented the environment where Yūha alone seemed to be cherished.

She was three years younger than me and hadn’t even reached double digits in age yet. There was no way she could’ve noticed how warped everything was.

And yet she looked at me with innocent eyes, called me “Big Brother,” and adored me as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

It annoyed me.

I was jealous.

Back then, I hated Yūha.

Lying in bed, consumed by pain, I hated her. I cursed the girl who would probably live an even happier life once I was gone.

I couldn’t sleep and just kept struggling against the pain.

I wanted my parents to come home.

I didn’t want to be alone.

Then I heard the front door open, followed by frantic noises. Someone came pounding through the living room, threw down their things, and rushed straight into my room.

“Big Brother, are you okay!?”

The person who had come home was Yūha.

Her face was bright red, sweat pouring down it as she peered at me lying there. She repeatedly patted my forehead with her soft, cool hand and muttered, “It’s hot,” over and over.

“Wait here! I heard a towel feels good when you’re sick. I’ll bring one!”

She dashed out of the room, filled a washbasin with water in the bathroom, soaked a large towel meant for wiping down the body until it was dripping wet, and came back into the room while getting water all over the floor.

She pinched one end of the towel and placed it on my forehead. The rest was gathered in her arms, so even her clothes had become soaked.

It made me angry.

Why did I have to feel this pathetic?

My parents didn’t love me, and now the girl who had taken their love from me was pitying me.

—It’s all your fault.

Thinking that, I forced out my voice with everything I had.

“Why… are you doing this…? Stop it.”

I weakly pushed the towel away, but she shoved it right back.

My head cooled again, and the fact that it felt good only irritated me more.

But that anger disappeared almost immediately.

Because Yūha’s expression had twisted in front of me.

Still so young and understanding nothing, she had tears filling both of her big eyes.

“My friend said if you leave the flu alone, you can die. I thought when I got home, maybe you’d already be dead, so… so I ran all the way back. Big Brother, please don’t die.”

As soon as she finished saying that, Yūha burst into tears.

She wailed, ignored anything I said, clung to me, and refused to let go.

The warmth of her body pressed against mine felt comforting.

“…Why are you crying? I don’t get it.”

That was also the first time I didn’t understand why tears were welling up in my own eyes.

My chest simply felt warm, and I couldn’t stop crying.

Neither of us understood why, but we cried together until we were exhausted, fell asleep, and when I woke up, I felt unbelievably better.

Yūha had saved me.

When neither my father nor my mother had helped me, the youngest person in the family had saved me.

When I thought I might die, she had been the only one who cried for me.

I wanted to stay alive.

Because I never wanted to see Yūha cry like that again.

Orange.

Apparently, I’d slept much longer than I’d expected.

The sun was already sinking. Even though we’d been in the shade, sunlight was now falling across my face. I narrowed my eyes against the brightness and found a familiar sleeping face right beside me.

Apparently, our sleeping positions had lined up so that we’d ended up napping face-to-face.

Yūha slept peacefully, her expression slightly vacant and relaxed.

I treasured her from the bottom of my heart.

I wasn’t the one protecting Yūha.

I had always been the one being protected.

That day, and today too.

Her beautiful black hair had fallen loose and was about to slip into her slightly open mouth. I reached out, scooped it up, and moved it back into place.

In the process, my palm brushed against her cheek.

Her large eyes snapped open.

Still unfocused with sleep, they gradually found me at their center.

“Roku… rō…?”

For a moment, it felt like time had stopped.

Still half asleep, Yūha gave me a soft, dopey smile.

That finally brought me back to my senses.

I sat up and swallowed.

After taking a deep breath in and slowly letting it out, whatever had risen inside me a moment ago gradually settled down.

“Wake up. It’s about time we headed home.”

It was because I was tired.

That was the only explanation I could accept.

The reason Yūha had looked so beautiful just then had to be—