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The cab sped through the night, but it was not fast enough for her. She turned her eyes to her watch again - she had lost count of how many times she had been doing that throughout the short ride. 23:40. The hour and minutes held little meaning, as there was no way she would know how much time she had left. She just hoped that the phone call she would inevitably receive could be delayed for another second, and another, and another…
Her destination was the hospital. She had been visiting from time to time over the past three months after “it” happened. She wouldn’t call the visits frequent. It was not an everyday occurrence. There were so many reasons why she had been holding herself back, but now they all came back to haunt her. Regrets. They felt like acid in her blood. If only she could go back in time, she would have visited more often. She would have talked to her more often, even if the conversations were awkward and inconsequential. She would have already told her what was now echoing through her mind.
Three months ago, Minato-san collapsed during practice. Apparently, she had been sick since spring, but had hidden the diagnosis from her band – from Sayo.
“I will get better,” she said resolutely from her hospital bed the first time Sayo went to visit her. Sayo believed in her words, as she had always done. Minato-san was their leader. She would follow her wherever she decided to go.
But no matter how many times Minato-san repeated those words, it had become undeniable that her condition was worsening. At first, she had still been well enough to be wheeled down to the courtyard where she would sing to the last of the birds’ songs. But as the birds migrated and the temperature dropped further with the setting of winter, she beame confined to her bed. She, too, must have realized what had become of her body – or perhaps “realize” was not the right word when “acceptance” was what she had found. When Sayo reassured her that she would get better, she just smiled and said softly, “I will try.”
The last time Sayo visited was a week ago. Minato-san was lying in bed when she came by. She almost turned away so as to not disturb her rest, but Minato-san insisted that she stayed.
“I want to spend more time with you, Sayo,” she said. We can spend all the time together once you get better – Sayo wanted to say, but that would have been a cruel lie. She just stayed without another word.
Minato-san asked her to help prop her up against the headboard. Sayo did as she was told. Though Minato-san rested all her weight on Sayo’s arms, she felt light, far too light. Sayo placed the pillows between Minato-san’s back and the headboard. As Minato-san rested against them, it looked as though she was swallowed by the whiteness.
“How is the band?” Minato-san asked. Sayo could not tell her that they fell apart without her guidance, so instead she focused on their individual practice.
“We have all been diligently practising. We are waiting for your return after all.”
“Is that so?”
Minato-san turned to look out the window. It was a pleasant day, tall skies with few clouds to dot them. The trees had long since become bare, but in a few months they would bloom again with cherry. Was Minato-san musing that she would only see those pink petals again in her dreams?
“Would you play for me?” Minato-san broke the silence.
“You mean…the guitar?”
“Yes. Is that too much to ask?”
“I…”
Of course it was not too much. Nothing is too much for you. But Sayo did not bring her guitar, and even if she did, she likely wouldn't be allowed to play it in a hospital room.
“I don’t think I can play here, but I have recorded myself during practice. If you would bear with my amateurish sound, I can play it for you on my phone.”
Minato-san nodded. “Please do.”
Sayo adjusted her chair so that she could sit side by side with Minato-san. She hooked up the earbuds to her phone and passed one to Minato-san while placing the other in her own ear. At the press of the play button, the quiet notes of the backing track sounded – the ring of chimes, plucking of the bass, chords on the keyboard, then the drums pounded with Sayo’s guitar finally coming in to soar above them all in the foreground.
“Sanctuary,” Minato-san said the name of the song.
“Yes.”
“Your sound is beautiful, Sayo. Always so precise. Always so distinct. You are my guide. With you beside me, I am no longer afraid.”
Sayo felt her eyes water – she turned her gaze to the ceiling so that the tears would not fall. The chorus was playing now. Minato-san leaned onto her shoulder and sang along, her voice a mere whisper. But Sayo could hear it as clearly as she had of the sounds of days bygone - the stage bright with their light, the stands below seas of soothing blue.
Dearest…You are my Dearest
The prisms of our dreams intersect
These budding sounds that we’ve weaved
This is Sanctuary
Feeling each one, treasuring each one
This clear water mirror shows us moving to the future
The words she had wanted to say for so long was at the tip of her tongue, but Sayo still could not give voice to them. She had so much fear. Fear of Minato-san’s reaction. Fear of what Minato-san might say to render a judgement she might not want to accept. If she kept silent, she could always remain by Minato-san’s side. Their time would go on. Forever and ever. She would play her guitar again and again behind Minato-san's songs in a never-ending performance.
A cowardly delusion, she knew. But it was all she had. She would give anything to make it come true; alas, she had nothing of value to trade for “Life” itself.
Minato-san was dying. She had tried so very hard to disbelieve, had refused for the past days to go witness those last breaths leaving Minato-san’s chest, but ignorance was no longer an option. Ten minutes ago, Imai-san had given her a phone call. The attending physician had said Minato-san would not last the night. Her family had already said their farewells. If Sayo wanted to do the same, now was her final chance.
The hospital building came into view. Sayo shoved the bills into the taxi driver’s hands and ran inside, her brain chanting Minato-san’s room number. 370, 370, 370…she repeated. She had to make sure she remembered. There was no time to waste.
The elevator was coming too slow. She ran for the stairs, taking two at a time. Do not run in the halls. – she would call out her fellow student at Hanajo in her position as a Disciplinary Committee member. But it didn’t matter now. Nothing mattered except for her.
She arrived at the hallway outside the room. It was very quiet, visitation hours long over. Minato-san’s parents were there, alongside Imai-san and her family. Ako and Rinko as well as several other close friends were also on the way, but they probably wouldn’t make it.
Minato-san’s father held the door open for Sayo to go inside. A white room of white walls and white sheets. Minato-san blended into the surroundings, her silver hair falling onto the pile of pillows beneath her. Her eyes were closed, her breaths shallow against the mask over her face. Sayo sat down by her side and held her hand.
“Minato-san, it’s me – Sayo.”
Sayo had told herself she wouldn’t cry. Minato-san wouldn’t want her to, she knew. But the tears wouldn’t stop falling now – they soaked the sheets by her free hand that was clenched into a fist.
“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice shaking. “I’m so sorry. I should’ve come here more often. I should’ve stayed by your side when it hurt, when you were afraid…I was a coward. I couldn’t accept losing you. I’m sorry for being so selfish. I wish I could do it all over again, then I would be here no matter what. I would be the precise sound that guides you. I would do anything for you…”
“Because…because I love you. I love you…Yukina.”
“You found me when I was alone. You gave me hope when I had none. Your voice was my light. Just being beside you made me so, so happy.”
The hand in Sayo’s twitched and she looked up to see Yukina’s eyes had opened slightly, her focus unclear, drifting somewhere behind Sayo. She opened her mouth desperately. Sayo nodded, sliding off the mask to hear her words.
“…Sayo…I love you too.”
She closed her eyes one last time. When she passed, she had been smiling.
…………
Yukina’s memorial services were held on a Tuesday. Tuesday, Day of Fire, Day of Mars. She had fought like a warrior till the very end, with passion and love for the life she had lived. Though her time might have been brief, she had burnt brighter than any fire. She had lit up Sayo’s night.
As Sayo waited in line, she thought back to Yukina’s last moments. Some might ask what was the purpose of confessing to a dying person, and what use would there be for the dying to accept such a fruitless confession? But to Sayo, it had meant everything. Words they had long wanted to say to each other, words they had long awaited to hear from each other…giving voice to those words alone had eased their regrets. Even if it had just been for a second, they had been together. They were no longer lonely.
Sayo finally reached the casket. Yukina lay there silently, peaceful as though in deep sleep. Sayo placed her flower by Yukina’s side – a rose dyed a vibrant blue. The impossible made possible. The wretch who became saved. Thank you for having found me, Yukina. Thank you for having let me stay by your side. Thank you…and…
Goodbye.