3 days later…
The VIP hospital room at the Central General Hospital always carried a distinct scent. It was a blend of cold antiseptic and the faint, earthy smell of fresh flowers replaced daily. But this afternoon, that sterile atmosphere seemed pushed aside by a breathless, tense, and sacred anticipation.
He wore a plain black dress shirt, neatly tucked into white trousers, paired with incredibly minimalist yet professional black leather shoes. His hand movements were swift, precise, and decisive as he plugged the final cables into the mini projector and portable roll up screen he had taken the trouble to bring from his apartment. There were no wasted movements. There was no clumsy fumbling or dropping of equipment.
While adjusting the focus of the projector lens, he cast a sweeping glance across the room.
On the hospital bed with its upper half elevated, Mrs. Sayuri leaned against the pillows. Her face was pale, her breathing carrying the exhaustion of someone taking the final steps on the journey of life, but those old eyes shone brightly with a rare eagerness.
Sitting right at the edge of the bed was Ichinose Chizuru. She wore an incredibly simple beige dress, both hands wrapping around her grandmother's bony, blue veined hand. Chizuru's breathing was slightly ragged, her shoulders trembling faintly from tension.
He retracted his gaze and pressed the power button on the projector. A rectangular beam of white light shot straight onto the screen.
"I will turn off the lights. Get ready."
His voice was deep and steady. His finger brushed over the wall switch panel and pressed down. The room instantly plunged into darkness. The only thing left was the brilliant beam of light projecting from the lens, suspending countless tiny dust particles in midair.
Click.
The short film, barely fifteen minutes long, officially began.
He stepped back, choosing the most hidden corner at the back of the room, leaning against the cold wall with his arms crossed over his chest. He did not look at the screen. He had sat in the editing room, watching this footage hundreds of times, dissecting every frame, trimming every millisecond of audio until he memorized every blink of the characters. To him, the movie on that screen was nothing but an optimized string of digital data.
But his audience was different.
From the very first seconds, when Chizuru's tear soaked and conflicted face appeared sharply on the large screen, Sayuri's choked sobs rang out. She brought a trembling hand to cover her mouth, tears falling freely. They were not tears of sorrow, but an outburst of absolute pride. It was the satisfaction of witnessing her little granddaughter truly living and shining brightly under the cinematic lights.
Amidst the silent darkness echoing only with the film's dialogue, he slowly turned his head. His pitch black, hollow eyes were not directed at the screen, but pinned firmly on the silhouette of Ichinose Chizuru sitting at the edge of the bed.
The flickering light from the projection screen cast upon her profile, illuminating every feature.
She did not blink. Her lips were slightly parted, her teeth biting lightly into her lower lip enough to draw blood to hold back her sobs. Her tears just kept pouring down, soaking the back of the hand gripping Sayuri's. Her face right now had absolutely no layers of defense. There was none of her usual strong facade, and absolutely none of the industrial smile of a rental girlfriend. It was raw and vulnerable, yet so beautiful and authentic it left one breathless.
His eyes were glued to that tear stained face. Ten seconds. Twenty seconds. Then a minute passed.
Right at that moment, a variable completely outside of his calculations suddenly exploded in his chest.
His chest tightened. A skipped heartbeat, strong and brutal, hammered right into his ribcage. He felt his throat go bone dry. An unfamiliar, warm, and destructive wave of emotion rushed into every corner of his mind.
He saw her desperate filial piety. He saw her stubbornness eroded by pain. He saw the girl who had once braved the rain to take him back to his room, the one who had gripped his hand tight in the dark and said "I am here."
A primal, insane, and irrational urge suddenly screamed in his brain, forcing him to do something.
He wanted to step forward. He wanted to raise his thumb and wipe away the tears rolling down her cheeks. He wanted to use his shoulders to shield her from all the cruelty of this world. He wanted to hold her so she could lean on him and pour her heart out. He wanted to tell her, "Everything is fine now, you did great."
The wavering was starkly visible in the eyes of the absolute loner. The arms crossed over his chest dropped down. His fingers twitched slightly, ready to lift and reach forward.
But then…
The exact moment his shoe was about to shift forward a single millimeter, the deadly warning system in his subconscious blared with ear piercing sirens.
Memories of the days he was boycotted and cyberbullied into depression. Memories of contemptuous stares. Memories of the girl he trusted the most using fake tears to push him down into the abyss. They suddenly ripped through his mental barrier.
His pupils contracted violently. His erratic breathing suddenly froze.
He gritted his teeth together so hard that blue veins bulged on his jawline. He clenched his hands into tight fists, his nails digging deep into his palms to use physical pain to force his rationality awake.
"Fuck, no..." He roared in his thoughts, his cruel and cold voice severing all weakness. "She is crying for her grandmother. It has nothing to do with you. Stop deluding yourself. Never hand the power to hurt you to anyone else ever again."
He forced himself to turn away. He shifted his gaze from Chizuru, staring blankly at the unfeeling concrete wall beside him. He began muttering curses in his head, hurling verbal abuse at himself to crush and suffocate that damn budding affection.
When the film ended and the final credits rolled onto the black screen, his heartbeat had returned to normal. His face was once again frozen, silent, emotionless, and as sharp as an unused scalpel.
He stepped forward slowly, turning on the room lights to a moderate brightness to avoid blinding the two crying women.
"Kazuya."
Sayuri waved her hand. Her voice was faint but brimming with the strange vitality of someone whose wish had just been fulfilled. "Come here, my grandson."
He stepped carefully to the side of the bed, leaning down slightly to be at eye level with the old woman. Without a single trace of his earlier wavering, the smile on his lips appeared perfect, gentle, and utterly standard.
"Grandma Sayuri, how are you feeling?"
Sayuri reached out with her bony hands and grasped his. "I do not know what else to say to thank you. We are so lucky to have a kind and talented friend and neighbor like you to help. Thank you for making her dream come true."
He smiled mildly, shaking his head slightly. His voice was flawless in its modesty, pushing all the glory far away from himself.
"You are too kind. I only helped her with a few minor technical tasks. All the hard work, from raising the funds to that amazing acting talent, belongs entirely to Ichinose. She worked incredibly hard, pouring her life into every frame, just hoping to make you proud. This credit belongs entirely to her."
Sitting beside them, Chizuru felt her chest ache at those words. She looked at his calm profile, tears still clinging to her lashes. He was always like this. Pushing her into the light while retreating deep into the shadows himself, refusing all gratitude.
He withdrew his hand completely naturally. With swift movements, he began packing up the projector, rolling up the screen, and stuffing all the cables into his black backpack.
"Please get some rest, O-baasan. I will take my leave now so you two can have some privacy."
He bowed politely, then decisively turned and walked out of the hospital room. There was no lingering attachment. Not a single parting glance was spared for Chizuru.
Chizuru hurriedly wiped her tears and stood up. "Wait for me a moment, Grandma. I am going to see him out."
She chased after him into the empty hospital hallway. His straight back was striding steadily toward the elevators.
"Kazuya! Wait!" she called out.
Hearing her call, he stopped. But when he slowly turned around, the warm, gentle aura from the hospital room had completely evaporated. In its place was the familiar cold, distant, and sharp atmosphere. The wall of ice he had just reinforced with denial was now sturdier than ever.
"Kazuya, about just now. I really want to thank you. Without you, this movie would never have..."
He raised a hand, cutting her off ruthlessly.
Thrusting his other hand into his pocket, he pulled out a small metal USB drive, holding it out to her with a brutally indifferent attitude.
"The highest quality master copy of the movie is in here." His voice was steady and emotionless, issuing like an automated announcement. "I have permanently deleted all the raw data, the ruined takes, and the audio files on my computer to ensure your privacy. After deducting the equipment rental costs from the crowdfunded money, I transferred the entire remaining balance directly into your personal account. You can use it to cover your grandmother's hospital bills."
Chizuru stood bewildered. Her hands trembled slightly as she took the ice cold USB drive. This heartlessly fair transaction left her speechless.
"You deleted everything?" Chizuru looked at him awkwardly. "You did not keep a single copy as a souvenir? Kazuya, I really want to treat you to a meal to..."
"That is unnecessary."
The ironclad rejection landed like a slap of reality straight to her face.
His dark eyes looked at her quietly, lacking even a single ripple. He was using all the power of his rationality to extinguish the image of her tear soaked face from his mind.
"The project is over. Everything went exactly as you wanted." He hissed through his teeth, every word articulate and razor sharp. "Now that your grandmother has seen the movie, the goal is achieved. Everything has been settled fairly. No one owes anyone anything."
He took half a step back, his freezing gaze drawing a massive boundary between them.
"From now on, please do not disturb my personal life anymore. We are originally just strangers who happen to live in the same apartment complex. Keep your distance, Ichinose."
He turned his back decisively, walking straight into the elevator car that had just opened. He pressed the close button, not bothering to look back at the girl standing silently in the hallway.
As the metal doors slowly slid shut, locking him in a cramped, solitary space, he squeezed his eyes shut and leaned back against the elevator wall. His chest heaved violently. He had just performed surgery without anesthesia, personally cutting out the newly formed tumor called emotion. It was painful, so much that he really felt he couldn't bear to leave Chizuru alone like that. But to him, that was the only way to survive.
Because a piece of trash had neither the right nor the courage to embrace the sunlight.