Upon reaching the hospital—one of the few places preserved in the city, built of solid stone and reinforced with timber from the old forests—he went straight to his sister's room. The place was simple: rows of beds, thin curtains, wooden shelves, and oil lamps on the walls casting a warm, flickering light.
Still weighed down by the day, Kenji sat beside the bed and spoke, even though she had been in a coma for more than two years.
"Good morning, sis. I hope you're feeling better today. The doctor said you've been responding well to treatment and that you might wake up soon. Isn't that great?"
He lowered his gaze, a quiet guilt pressing on him.
"Ah… I'm sorry, too. I promised I'd bring flowers this time and couldn't. Please forgive me."
His eyes welled, his chest grew heavy.
"If I'd been strong enough to protect you that day, none of this would have happened. You wouldn't be in a coma."
The memories came in fragments. He recalled the day of the accident. His sister had been struck by energy unleashed by gods and demons.
Kenji thought of the old stories. They said that about a hundred years ago, amid a lull, a war began between two unknown races. Those who called themselves gods claimed to be saviors. No one believed it at first—until the first miracle.
On a hospital lawn far from town, a girl who had lost a leg was healed. The leg grew back before everyone's eyes. Then came rumors: the gods were searching for one of their own, lost in our world. The religious proclaimed the end was near and that the gods were salvation.
Almost a year later, the second race appeared, called demons because of their faces and strange bodies. Menacing and arrogant, they demanded the capture of a fugitive demon. The story sounded just like the gods' tale.
It seemed both sides were hunting the same being. It wouldn't be surprising if someone had tried to escape. Anyone would run in their place.
Before anyone understood what was happening, the two sides were at war. The conflict lasted a century. The scars remain to this day.
Religion and government aligned with the gods. Dictators, factions, and other groups sided with the demons. That's how famous clans were born. And despite everything, those races remained.
No one knew why. The battles were so intense that the climate changed and entire regions fell. Resources grew scarce. The energy released in the fighting left many humans ill—like Kenji's sister. Others gained abilities or changes in their bodies.
And some merely inherited raw strength for heavy labor. Worst of all, for him, was what happened in his region a little over two years ago.
Two greedy demons fought over human smuggling. His family's house was nearby. A stray blow hit their home. His sister didn't get out in time and was buried under the rubble, saturated with demonic energy. That's how she ended up in this state.
The tightness returned to his chest. He murmured:
"If only I'd been stronger. I'm sorry, sis. I should have been at your side."
The door opened softly. The doctor entered with a calm expression.
"Hello, Mr. Kenji—good morning! You came early today for visiting. It's good to see how devoted you are to her. But remember to take care of yourself as well," said Dr. Vangears.
Kenji gave a faint smile, lowered his eyes, and replied,
"Thank you, doctor. No need to be so formal with me. I like to stop by before work to see how she's doing."
The doctor folded his arms, his tone still gentle.
"Alright. Just don't overwork yourself. You need to be well when she wakes up."
Kenji nodded with a small smile. Then, catching the sun's position through the window, he froze. Time had slipped away.
"Ah—! I just remembered I have to get to work. Mr. Tomoji must be waiting—and furious. See you later, doctor."
He hurried down the corridors. His boots rang against the cold stone floor. The oil lamps quivered as he passed, and the faint scent of herbs from the infirmary trailed behind while he ran to make his shift.