It starts with cherry blossoms.
They bloom overnight — like magic — blanketing the schoolyard in soft pinks and whites. The wind carries the petals through the halls, catching in our hair, our sleeves, our shoes.
Kane Inoue stands under the biggest tree in the courtyard after class, eyes tilted toward the sky. She's always loved spring. I remember her saying it once — "It feels like the world is trying again."
I approach slowly.
She hears me anyway. "You walk like a ghost, you know that?" she murmurs, not turning.
"Only around you," I say.
That earns me a small laugh. She turns then, and it's strange — how normal this feels, how quiet and still everything is even when the weight of everything hangs between us.
"I've made a decision," she says softly.
I know what she means.
I don't ask her to say it out loud.
She does anyway. "I'm going through with the surgery."
My chest tightens. "You said the odds were—"
"Bad," she finishes for me. "Yeah. Still are."
She looks at me then. Really looks.
"But I want to try."
I nod, unable to speak past the lump in my throat.
"I'm not doing it for me," she says, eyes glistening. "I'm doing it for the version of me that got to laugh with Sayoko, and argue with Haru, and sit next to you every morning. The version of me that felt like a person, not a patient."
She pauses, glancing at the falling petals.
"I want her to have a shot."
I step closer, the breeze catching the edges of her uniform. Her fingers twitch at her side like she wants to reach for me.
So I reach first.
Our hands meet — warm, real, shaking.
"If you go," I whisper, "you better come back."
She smiles — soft and broken. "I'll try."
I lean in, pressing my forehead to hers. We don't kiss. Not yet. It's not the moment for that.
Instead, we breathe — the same air, the same quiet, the same hope.
"Yuki?" she says.
"Yeah?"
"If I don't wake up…"
My hand tightens in hers.
"Don't," I say, voice cracking. "Don't finish that sentence."
She exhales a laugh, wet with tears. "Okay."
We stay like that until the bell rings, the world calling us back to reality.
But for those few minutes beneath the cherry tree, it's just us.
No hospitals. No goodbyes. Just spring. Just now.
Just Kane and me — holding on.
The night before her surgery, Kane doesn't sleep.
I can tell. She's been pacing her hospital room for hours, her footsteps soft against the floor as she waits for morning — for whatever comes next.
I can't sleep either. How can I?
So, when the nurse gives me permission, I slip out of my chair and make my way down the hallway. I know where she'll be — where we both need to be, in this moment.
The rooftop.
The doors slide open with a quiet whoosh, and I find her standing there, staring out over the city, the lights sparkling like a million tiny stars below us.
It's cold up here, but she doesn't seem to mind. Her hair whips around in the wind, and she doesn't turn when I step up behind her.
"You know," she says softly, "I used to come up here to escape. It felt like the whole world was so far away, like it didn't matter what was happening to me, because I could just... disappear here."
She laughs, but it's empty.
I step closer. "Kane."
She turns to face me, her eyes wide, glistening with unshed tears. I reach for her hand, my heart in my throat. The touch is soft, fragile — as if I could break her if I hold on too tightly.
She doesn't let go.
"I'm scared," she says, her voice trembling. "I don't want to die, Yuki. I don't want to leave. I... I want to be with you. I want to live. I want to be with you and Sayoko and Haru. I want to graduate with you. I want to go to college with you. I want... I want to do everything I haven't done yet."
Her breath catches, and I feel it like a punch to my chest.
"Kane," I whisper, stepping forward. "Don't... don't talk like that."
"I'm serious," she says, her eyes breaking apart in front of me. "There's so many things I haven't done. I haven't even kissed you properly. I haven't even told you everything I wanted to say. What if... what if I never get to see you laugh again? What if we never get to fight over stupid things?"
She clutches her chest, a sob rising in her throat, and I feel my own tears building — the ones I've been holding back for so long.
I reach for her, pulling her into me. Her body shakes, and I hold her like she's made of glass, afraid that if I let go, she'll slip away. My hands tremble against her back.
"I can't lose you," I say, my voice cracking. "Please, Kane. Don't say that. You're going to be okay. You have to be okay. I need you. We need you. I need you to come back. I need you to fight. We're all going to fight together. I can't lose you."
She pulls back slightly, her tears falling freely now. She looks at me, really looks at me — her face so broken, so raw, and I can't look away.
"I'm scared, Yuki," she whispers. "I don't want to die. I don't want to leave you behind. I don't want... I don't want our story to end like this."
I wipe away her tears with my thumb, and she leans into my touch.
"I'm here," I tell her, my voice steady even when everything inside me feels like it's crumbling. "I'm here. I'm always here, Kane. And you're going to come back. You will come back to us."
Her fingers curl into my shirt, holding me close. Her head rests against my chest, and I can feel her heart beating against mine.
"I don't want to let go," she murmurs.
"You don't have to," I say. "I'm right here. I'll be waiting. I'm not going anywhere."
We stand there in silence, the city stretched out before us, the cool wind curling around us, but in this moment, there's no place I'd rather be.
Then, quietly, I kiss her forehead, my lips lingering for just a second longer than I ever meant to.
"Come back alive, Kane," I say softly. "I need you."
Her hands tremble in mine, but she pulls back slightly, meeting my gaze. Her lips tremble, and she manages a small, broken smile.
"I'll try," she says. "I'll fight. For you."
And in that moment, I believe her.
I have to.
Because I can't do this without her.
I watch her go into the operating room, the sterile doors closing behind her with a quiet whoosh. The moment feels too final, too heavy. I stand frozen in the hallway, the echo of my heartbeat drowning out everything else.
I promised her I'd be waiting. I promised I wouldn't leave her side. But this... this is different. This is beyond anything I ever thought we'd have to face.
The doctors had given us all the hope they could — but even with the best possible care, the surgery was still risky. There was still a chance she wouldn't make it.
The possibility of losing her still hangs in the air, thick and suffocating. I don't even know if I'm breathing anymore.
The door to the waiting room opens, and Sayoko and Haru walk in. Their eyes are red, their faces pale, but they try to smile when they see me. They've been here all morning, sitting beside me, offering what comfort they could, but it's not enough. Nothing is enough.
"How's she doing?" Sayoko asks quietly, her voice cracking.
I don't know how to answer. So, I just shake my head, the words stuck in my throat. I don't know what to say. I don't know if anything I could say would make this better.
"I can't believe this is happening," Haru says, slumping into a chair beside me. He runs a hand through his hair, frustration written all over his face. "She's going to be okay, right? She has to be."
"I hope so," I say, though the words feel like ash in my mouth. "But... I don't know."
It's silent after that, the three of us lost in our thoughts. The only sound is the beeping of machines and the faint murmur of nurses down the hallway.
I think about everything we've been through together — all the laughter, all the fights, all the small moments that made up the fabric of who we are. And I think about what she said to me last night: "I want to live, Yuki. I want to be with you. I want to graduate with you. I want to go to college with you. I want to do everything we promised each other."
And I promised I'd be here.
But it's all so hard to believe now.
I stand up suddenly, the sudden urge to do something, anything, taking over. "I'm going to go out for a minute," I say, my voice thick, my throat tight.
Sayoko and Haru both nod, understanding without needing to ask why.
I step outside into the cold, the air biting at my skin. The city is still buzzing, still moving, but it feels like everything has paused for me. For us.
I don't know how long I stand there before I hear footsteps behind me. I turn to find Sayoko standing there, her arms wrapped tightly around herself, her face soft with worry.
"You're not alone in this, Yuki," she says, her voice gentle. "Kane... she's strong. She's going to fight this."
"I know," I say, my voice hollow. "But what if she doesn't come back? What if... what if I never get the chance to tell her everything I wanted to say? What if she never gets to laugh again? What if... what if I lose her?"
Sayoko steps forward, putting a hand on my shoulder. "You won't lose her," she says firmly. "Not if you believe in her. And not if she believes in you. You two... you have something special. I can see it. We all can."
I want to believe her. I want to believe that Kane will come back. But it's so hard. The fear, the uncertainty, it's all so overwhelming.
"I don't know how I'm supposed to keep going without her," I say, the words slipping out before I can stop them. "She means everything to me."
Sayoko looks at me, her expression soft. "That's why she's going to fight. For you."
We stand there for a while, in silence, just the two of us. There's nothing more to say. I don't need her to reassure me anymore. I just need to hold onto the hope that Kane will make it through. That everything we dreamed of will come true. That she'll come back to us, to me.
The hours drag on, the minutes stretching like they're never going to end. I'm not sure how much time has passed when a nurse comes to find us.
"Yuki, Sayoko, Haru..." She says, her voice calm but urgent. "There's been an update. Kane's surgery went well. She's in recovery now."
The relief that floods through me is immediate. The air in my lungs finally feels like it belongs there. I want to shout, to laugh, to cry all at once.
"She's okay?" I ask, just to make sure I heard her right.
"Yes," the nurse nods. "She's stable. The doctors are optimistic."
I feel my legs go weak beneath me, and I sit down hard on the bench next to me, a hand over my mouth to keep the sob from breaking free.
"Thank God," Sayoko whispers beside me, her eyes filling with tears. Haru is already grinning, his relief palpable.
I close my eyes, pressing my palms into them, and for the first time in what feels like forever, I let myself feel a little bit of peace.
She's going to be okay.
We're going to be okay.