It was one week later that the date for his discharge was officially finalized.
Even if his body was not yet functioning flawlessly, Takanori had become capable of walking on his own. He had been continuing rehabilitation for several weeks now. At first, he hadn’t even been able to move his body on the hospital bed, but little by little, he recovered. Under the guidance of physical therapists, he engaged in daily, unbroken walking drills and painstakingly practiced fine motor exercises to regain feeling in his fingertips. Even so, his burn scars had not fully faded. A prominent mark remained on his right arm, which he began covering up with long sleeves. Faint scars lingered on his face as well; every time he caught sight of them in a mirror, he felt bewildered by his changed appearance. It was no longer the man he used to be, but the face of a complete stranger looking back at him.
On the night before his discharge, Takanori spent his time alone, gazing out the window of his hospital room. Distant city lights flickered in a soft blur. How many nights had he spent in this foreign country? During the first few weeks, locked in a fierce battle against pain, simply surviving had taken every ounce of his strength. Now, however, that physical pain was gradually receding—replaced by a different kind of ache that consumed his heart. It was the presence of a single woman living out her life in a place beyond his reach.
He pulled his smartphone from his pocket. Akina’s number was still listed among his contacts. He stared at those digits over and over again, only to lock the screen each time. I shouldn’t call her. He kept reminding himself. She was moving forward. He had no right to shatter her hard-won resolve.
From the hospital corridor came the rhythmic footsteps of nurses. They had been so kind to him. Even without a shared language, they had constantly encouraged him with gestures and warm smiles. He was deeply grateful to them. Yet, despite their kindness, his heart remained unfulfilled. The hollow void within him could only be filled by one person.
His parents had arrived in the country two days prior. Yumiko had reportedly nearly collapsed when she took the phone call from the embassy. Hearing the news, Takayuki had been rendered speechless for a long moment. They immediately arranged plane tickets, heading straight to the airport without even taking time to pack. Driven solely by the desperate desire to see their son, they had flown to this distant foreign land in the very clothes on their backs.
“Takanori… Thank goodness… Thank goodness…”
Yumiko repeated the words over and over as she wiped away her tears. Clutching Takanori’s hand tightly, she held it as if trying to reassure herself of its warmth. Her eyes were swollen and bloodshot—a testament to how long she must have been weeping. Her hands trembled continuously, a tremor that communicated itself straight to Takanori.
Takayuki nodded with few words, patting Takanori’s shoulder. His eyes, too, were slightly reddened, but to conceal it, he simply slapped his son’s back a few more times.
“…I’m so glad you’re alive.”
“Dad… Mom… I’m so sorry. I caused you both so much worry.”
“Don’t say that…”
Yumiko squeezed Takanori’s hand even tighter. Her fingers were still shaking. To her, losing her son would have meant the end of her life. Yet here he was, alive—like a miracle. She couldn’t help but confirm that reality over and over again.
The embassy officials oversaw all the administrative procedures for his return: issuing a new passport, booking flight tickets, arranging referral letters from the hospital, and securing medical certificates from the doctors. A mountain of documentation was stacked before him in quick succession. Yet all these procedures moved forward far faster than Takanori’s heart could prepare for them.
“Mr. Aizawa, you will be able to return to Japan on next Tuesday’s flight. We have arranged a vehicle to take you to the airport, so please rest assured.”
To the embassy official’s words, Takanori could do nothing but offer a silent nod.
—I’m returning to Japan. Akina is there. In the exact same country, breathing the exact same air, she is living her life.
That truth sent a complex surge of emotion tumbling through his chest. He wanted to see her. Yet, he knew he shouldn’t. Burdened by that endless inner conflict, he drew closer to the day of his return.
Then came the morning of his discharge. In Takanori’s hospital room, his parents quietly watched over his preparations. Yumiko packed Takanori’s belongings while Takayuki finalized the discharge paperwork. Meanwhile, Takanori gazed out the hospital window at the view one last time.
“…Are you going to contact Akina-san?”
Takayuki asked softly. Choosing his words with care, he gauged Takanori’s expression. It was a question he himself had pondered countless times before finally speaking it aloud.
Takanori shook his head quietly. He had already reached his answer—after deliberating over it endlessly upon his hospital bed.
“…No.”
Yumiko looked up, surprise and confusion evident in her eyes.
“Takanori…?”
“She’s already moving forward. The divorce is finalized, and I heard she’s started a new job. If I contact her now, she’ll only suffer all over again. She’ll be torn apart, wondering what she’s supposed to do, and her life will grind to a halt. I don’t want that for her.”
“But…”
“If she has started walking down a new path in life, I think my duty is to support that.”
Takayuki let out a deep sigh. He understood his son’s reasoning. Even so, a tangled mess of emotions weighed heavily on his mind. His son was unmistakably alive. Yet he was choosing not to share that miraculous truth with the person he loved most. Whether that choice was truly right—he simply could not judge.
“…Do you really not want to see her?”
Takanori looked out the window. Clouds stretched across the sky, through which an airplane occasionally glided past. Following the plane’s path with his eyes, he spoke slowly.
“…I want to see her. I want to see her so badly. But…”
He trailed off. Continuing was simply too painful. His throat tightened, and his voice threatened to give out completely. Clenching his fists, he swallowed down the surging emotion.
“…If I truly wish for her happiness, I think I ought to erase myself here and now. She has already moved on from my life. It’s better this way. It really is.”
Holding back her tears, Yumiko gripped Takanori’s hand fiercely. A single teardrop fell onto the back of his hand. Though she desperately wanted to respect her son’s choice, she knew that choice was heartbreakingly cruel.
“Dear… Are you truly fine with this?”
“Yeah. As long as Akina can live her life with a smile, that’s all that matters.”
Takanori offered a gentle smile as he spoke. It was a smile that carried a sense of quiet serenity, yet was steeped in profound sorrow. Though he refused to let it show, his heart felt as if it were tearing apart.
Late that night, after Takanori had fallen asleep, his parents talked alone in their hotel room. Yumiko stood by the window, dabbing away her tears.
“…I wonder if Takanori is truly fine with this.”
“That’s what he said… but whether that’s his true feeling, I can’t say.”
“Still, Akina-san doesn’t know a thing, does she? Without ever knowing Takanori is alive, she went through with the divorce and is trying to start over. Is that truly what’s best for her?”
Takayuki nodded in silence. The same thought had been haunting him. Yet, he also felt a deep obligation to honor his son’s wishes. After a long silence, he spoke softly.
“…They have their own path and their own choices to make. It’s not our place to interfere.”
Yumiko wiped her tears and nodded. Still, the heavy cloud over her heart refused to lift.
—What if Akina ever learns that Takanori is alive? What will she think? Will she regret her decision, or will she press forward regardless?
Yumiko never imagined that she would one day learn the answer.