"What do you mean she might not make it?!" he yelled, grabbing the physician by his robe.
"I'm sorry, Ichiro," he replied, "but that wound of hers is complicating the situation."
The old physician forced himself free and said, "I'm afraid the chances of a safe delivery are very low, and the chance of both mother and child surviving are even lower."
"Can't you heal her?" he pleaded. "Come on, that's what you're good at, isn't it?"
The physician turned and said, "I'm sorry, but trauma to the womb can't be healed with Vahir, especially if it's this advanced. I only came to tell you this before she goes into labour so that you wouldn't be pressured into making a decision at a critical time. So please think it through."
And with that he left the room, sliding the wooden door shut behind him.
Ichiro gritted his teeth in frustration, biting his lip as he paced about the room.
"Please calm down," a soft voice said, anchoring him back to reality. "We still have time before we make our choice, don't we?"
He looked toward the bedding beside the window of the room. Sunshine pierced into the room unfiltered, its soft light glimmering in her emerald-green eyes.
She sat upright on the bedding, a sheet over her legs, her hands resting on her enlarged belly, a calm expression plastered on her face.
"Nanae, you always take things lightly," he replied, his tone calmer. "This is life or death."
"Come on," she replied with a smile. "You know when has that ever scared me?"
Ichiro sighed, sitting next to her, the sunlight shining on the smooth skin of his bare face. "Why are you like this?"
"Like what?" she replied with a soft giggle.
She then looked out into the sunlight and said, "Like I said, there's nothing to fear, Ichiro."
"What makes you think that?" he asked.
"I can tell," she replied, turning to him. "Call it a mother's intuition."
She then stared down at her belly and said, "I can tell already. My daughter is special. She is meant for great things."
She turned back to him.
"So such an inconvenience won't set her back, not in the slightest."
"Then," Ichiro said hesitating, "what about you?"
She looked down, her tone deeper as she said, "One way or another, my life was meant to end in blood. That is the curse of the warrior."
"What are you saying?" he yelled, sharp but not over the top. "Don't say things like that."
She then reached out her hand to his and said, "That's the last thing I want. Don't be afraid, because I intend to keep my promise."
"I won't let myself die till then."
For some odd reason, that reply soothed his soul like a child hearing reassuring words from their parents.
But it makes you wonder. How often do people keep the promises they make?
Some might say that it depends solely on the person making the promise, and for the most part that is taken to be the undisputed answer to that argument.
But the fact still remained that Nanae Sato was unable to fulfill her promise, not to her loved ones nor to herself.
Was this due to her being untrustworthy? No.
This is because those who claim this view forget about one fundamental law that governs the world, and that is the uncertainty of the future.
So she wasn't able to fulfill her vow not because of choice, but because on the first day of the twelfth lunar cycle in the year 5979 C.C., she lost her life as many had before her.
In childbirth.
And what was the promise that she vowed to fulfill, you may ask?
She vowed that she would bring change to the world, in any form as long as it made the bleak future ahead seem brighter.
But that ambition too was swept away in the rapids of uncertainty, leaving Ichiro alone clutching a newborn girl in front of the grave of the woman he loved.
A flurry of thoughts invaded his mind as he stood still, consumed by the fear that the uncertainty had wrought.
That was until a familiar face caught his attention.
This man wore a white kimono and a black hakama, with a waist-long sleeveless black robe over his kimono tied at the waist by a white belt. The kanji for honor was etched into the back of his robe.
This attire was not unfamiliar to Ichiro, for he too wore the same robes. But what stood out between the two was the distinct streak of white hair across his head of black hair.
He stood beside Ichiro in front of the freshly cemented grave.
He stared silently at the stone tombstone that bore her name, not making a single move.
Ichiro's gaze kept shifting between him and the grave, and when he noticed that nothing would be said, he decided to make the first move.
"I'm sorry," the man blurted before Ichiro had a chance to speak. "It's my fault that she got that injury."
The man then turned to him and bowed, tears running down his face as he said, "I'm sorry. It's because of me that baby will never have a mother. All because I grew complacent, unknowingly fulfilled with the life that I managed to build here."
"I made a vow," he continued, "that I would build a better future with my own two hands, not just for me but for everyone. But the moment my life started to look up again, I forgot my promise."
"I'm a hypocrite!" he yelled out in anguish. "And now your family is scarred forever because I was living in a delusion."
"I know I have to make things right," he proceeded, barely taking a breath, "but let this apology be my first step in making amends to the three of you. And I promise that from this moment until I draw my final breath, I will do whatever it takes to make the future she envisioned a reality."
There it was, another promise.
To Ichiro, he wondered why he didn't understand that humans are unable to govern fate by will alone.
Yet with another promise came hope—hope that this time this intention would be what changed his view of uncertainty.
What could he do but cling to that hope as a means to salvage his soul from the pits of despair?
Then and there Ichiro Hibiki too made a promise, a promise that he would fulfill no matter the circumstance.
He would give his daughter a happy and peaceful life even amidst the war-torn world in which they lived.
And to do this, he would overcome every uncertainty through his sheer desire alone.
But as if to mock him, the world sent its greatest uncertainty yet—the very daughter he had vowed to protect.
Faced with this, he couldn't help but wonder: was it wiser to defy fate and uphold his promise, or to surrender to the inevitability of uncertainty, a truth he had long avoided?
One fact remained undeniable.
He had to make a choice—before the world made it for him.
And yet, the weight of that acceptance only plunged him deeper into despair.