Late night, Osaka.
Kuroki stroked the stubble on his chin, the ring on his finger spinning incessantly, indicating its owner was deep in thought.
Since his remarriage, his daughter hadn't had much contact with him. Seeing her surround Miss Nozawa so affectionately, to be honest, he felt quite uneasy; he was her biological father, yet he wasn't as close as an outsider.
Because of her poor health, his daughter extremely disliked physical contact with people, saying it was "disgusting to touch." He had always thought it was because of her low body temperature—a subconscious rejection—but there was no such issue between Kusanagi and Miss Nozawa.
The relationship between the two seemed more harmonious than he had imagined; his worries had been unnecessary.
Miss Nozawa's words seemed to imply something.
As for a sensitive child, he didn't think it was Kusanagi. Kusanagi was the one who would inherit the corporate business in the future; she had to be strong both inside and out. This was the mission of the Kuroki family.
As the primary heir to the corporate group, his daughter's future and marriage were destined to be second only to one, yet above all others.
The weather in Tokyo became cool in October. I successfully entered the Cardiothoracic Surgery department, passed the basic interview and assessment, and officially began my work as an intern doctor.
Cardiothoracic Surgery is a relatively young discipline within the branches of surgery. It primarily deals with heart bypass surgery, congenital heart disease, valve replacement, and so on—all operations that require doctors with rich clinical experience. Therefore, interns have fewer opportunities to interact with patients and instead follow their seniors to accumulate practical experience.
My hair had grown past my shoulders. To look professional, I tied it in a bun, making me look much more capable and neat.
On the first day, I met new colleagues and received an ID badge with my photo on it, along with a brand-new white lab coat. I was very happy the moment I got them, stroking them over and over, unable to put them down.
Getting closer and closer to my dream.
At the same time, I braced myself with full concentration to study, study! Everything felt both familiar and confusing; putting the theories learned from books into practice was also a very wonderful thing.
The chief physician of Cardiothoracic Surgery was in his early 60s. He was physically robust, with a ruddy complexion that didn't show his age at all. He was a perfectionist "Top Surgeon."
He was responsible for my assessment and work guidance in this department. He also advised me that as a girl, I should be bolder and not be timid or afraid to step up to the operating table. I told him he could rest assured on that point.
After greeting the nurses one by one, I finally sat down in a corner of the department. Today's task was to organize materials and familiarize myself with the workflow.
At ten in the morning, there was an important meeting to be held, and all interns had to be present.
I hurried downstairs. When passing the entrance of the Emergency Building, I suddenly saw a woman in professional attire being pulled by a girl.
What's going on? I stopped in my tracks, hesitating whether to step forward and stop them.
The woman was about 1.7 meters tall and wearing black high heels. Judging by her attire, she should be a company employee. The girl pulling her was very young, looking about the same age as Kusanagi. Neither of them looked like patients.
It couldn't be a medical dispute or something, right? Is the doctor-patient relationship in Japan also this tense?
The woman looked very troubled, unable to leave as she was held back. She was saying something in a soft voice. The girl's eyes were filled with tears as she continuously pleaded with the woman.
Maybe they had a fight? Sisters? Since I was quite far away, I couldn't hear what they were saying, but this path was the only way through, so I had to brace myself and walk past them.
Seeing someone approaching, the woman hardened her heart and shook off the girl's hand, leaving without looking back. Seeing that the other party had no intention of showing mercy, the girl's tears fell in large drops. Her crying sounded extremely sad. I caught a glimpse out of the corner of my eye and turned my gaze away, unable to bear it.
The woman walked very quickly, almost disappearing around the corner.
Just then, the crying girl shouted with all her might toward the direction the woman had left: "Kanzaki, I will only wait for you in this life! I won't give up on you!"
This sentence was sorrowful and affectionate, full of heart and tears.
Not sisters. Two girls? I couldn't help but look back, but the girl was already gone, as if everything just now had been an illusion and nothing had happened.
"Nozawa, what are you dazing off for?" Li Shijia waved her hand in front of my eyes. "How can you be absent-minded on your first day of internship? It's over for you."
Alex had also been invited by Li Shijia to eat with us. He wore a handsome, masculine shirt with his sleeves rolled up, revealing an exquisite watch. Walking with the beautiful Li Shijia, they turned many heads along the way.
"Thinking about something." I snapped back to reality and smiled apologetically. That scene kept flashing in my mind. The girl's heart-wrenching crying and the woman's merciless departure.
Encountering such a thing for the first time, besides surprise, there was also confusion. I had an indescribable feeling in my heart, quite shocked.
What was their relationship? Why were they pulling at each other at the entrance of the Emergency Room? Normally, Japanese people are quite reserved about physical contact in public, yet they were so bold. The younger girl even publicly expressed her feelings.
"Alex, there's something I want to ask. Has your Emergency Room received any new patients recently?"
Li Shijia touched up the lipstick on her lips. "Aren't you in Cardiothoracic Surgery? Why do you care about the Emergency Room?"
Alex thought about it carefully. "The Emergency Room has many people every day. Most are body pains or accidental injuries, with occasional cases of diarrhea or poisoning. Today, however, there was a special case: a single woman under 30. I heard it was cyanotic heart disease, a left-to-right shunt type ventricular septal defect."
"Congenital heart disease?"
I was in Cardiothoracic Surgery myself, but I hadn't heard my seniors or colleagues mention such a young heart disease patient. Judging by her appearance, the woman in professional attire fit the description.
"Yes, you can ask around. There should be early treatment information or files for this patient. But why is Miss Nozawa asking this?" Alex was very curious. "Is something going on?"
"Nothing, just asking out of curiosity."
I brushed it off. "This meal is on me. Order whatever you want; don't be polite." I subconsciously chose to keep it a secret. It was someone else's secret; revealing it as gossip would feel like being a busybody. Moreover, it was their privacy. If I hadn't accidentally witnessed it, I wouldn't have thought they were in that kind of relationship.
In the afternoon, I was on duty as usual. A senior from the same department came to greet me and asked me to input recent patient cases. After all, I was an intern, and doing such chore-like tasks was reasonable. So, I took them and sat at the computer, checking them page by page.
From last month to this month, a total of 32 patients were admitted, including 3 cases of heart stent surgery. All used the most expensive imported materials, and the surgical fees were shockingly high.
I paid special attention, but there were no cases of a 30-year-old single woman, nor any patient named Kanzaki. It seemed that woman wasn't a heart disease patient.
Maybe she was just passing by.
I wonder if they've made up?
"Miss Nozawa, here's another historical file. Please input this as well."
The senior handed over another set of materials, putting his hands together in an apologetic gesture. "I'm really sorry, I missed these just now. These are all old patients from many years ago; some have come for follow-up visits recently."
"It's fine, leave it to me." I smiled.
To be a doctor, being hardworking and uncomplaining is the first requirement. I continued to input the data. Compared to the previous materials, this folder was significantly thicker, and the pathologies were many times more complex. My typing speed slowed down, and I worked like this until 6 PM.
I was finally almost done. I stretched, my back muscles aching slightly. There was only one page left, and a female patient named Kanzaki Yuzuki caught my eye.
My eyes lit up, and I immediately looked through it carefully.
28 years old, female, ventricular septal defect—one of the most common heart diseases. She had been on file at this hospital for five years. Testing showed a large defect, with both supracristal and infracristal defects present, and pulmonary valve insufficiency. The defect was about 0.2 to 4 cm. The left ventricle was significantly larger than the right. The case file showed that just last night, the patient had difficulty breathing, shortness of breath, and obvious symptoms of pulmonary hypertension cyanosis. The symptoms were relieved after emergency treatment, but the patient refused to undergo surgery.
Refused to undergo surgery?
If the heart defect is small, symptoms won't be very obvious. But for someone with a large defect like hers, it could lead to heart failure in severe cases and make her highly susceptible to infective endocarditis. It could be fatal at any moment.
This Kanzaki doesn't even care about her own life. I fell into thought.
Footsteps came from the corridor. It was the Head Nurse. She was an experienced auntie, plump and full-figured, who always made her rounds with a serious expression. Only after interacting with her did I find she was a warm-hearted elder sister.
The Head Nurse walked over, her narrow eyes smiling into slits. "Student Nozawa, working so hard on your first day? Not off work yet?"
"Thank you for your concern, Head Nurse. I'm about to get off work," I replied with a nod, preparing to close the file I was inputting.
The Head Nurse leaned in to take a look and made a clicking sound of pity. "This child named Kanzaki, sigh, is very pitiful. She and her sister depend on each other. Their parents died when they were young, and she started working at a very young age. All the money she earned was for her sister's schooling. They aren't even biological sisters. The doctors all advised her to have surgery as soon as possible, but she actually said if she dies, she dies, as long as she doesn't burden her sister! Tell me, where in the world is there a sister like that?"
"Why would the patient refuse surgery? Is there some hidden reason?"
"There is indeed a hidden reason." The Head Nurse shook her head and sighed. "Cardiothoracic Surgery can't be reimbursed; it costs a lot, a lot of money. How can a young girl afford it? And even if the disease is cured, there are follow-up maintenance costs. She won't be able to run or jump, no strenuous exercise, and her heart rate can't be too fast."
I fell into deep thought.
Is her sister's future more important than her life?
AI Model: gemini-3.1-flash-lite
"This morning, the two sisters had a huge argument here. The younger sister even went as far as to threaten to drop out of school, demanding that her older sister undergo surgery. The older sister was adamantly against it, arguing that if the surgery went wrong, the younger sister's life would be ruined and she would be a burden, plus they couldn't afford the astronomical costs of the surgery. Watching it all, my heart just ached."
"Can't you raise funds?"
"We've tried fundraising, and it's all in a charity fund. Even though it's not much, the child refuses to accept it. There's nothing we can do."
An unimaginable sentiment called love had coalesced within this woman named Kanzaki; she wanted to save all the money for her younger sister, indifferent to whether her own illness was treated or not.
I have never had siblings, so this emotion is beyond my understanding.
I cannot articulate how I feel right now; I only know that my heart is deeply shaken, beating heavily.
I don't know what happened between them in the past, nor do I know why the older sister would act this way; I just feel, how could someone love another person so deeply?
Is such a desperate gamble worth it?
Back at the apartment, I couldn't help but light a cigarette, gazing silently at the distant Tokyo Tower.
I cannot understand this kind of desperate love, yet besides the faint pain in my heart, there is another emotion present. Envy, longing? Or... something else.
I have also liked someone before. That person was very good to me, and we shared both laughter and tears. Later, because of graduation, we naturally drifted apart. I didn't think anything was wrong with that, nor did I feel sad.
Feelings are a luxury that comes and goes quickly. Liking you today doesn't mean I won't kiss someone else tomorrow. Two-way devotion is a kind of love only found in books.
That girl is about the same age as Kusanagi.
I've heard that the people you care about at this age are unforgettable for a lifetime. A young girl filled with such genuine feelings—this pure and precious emotion makes me shudder just thinking about it.
My own life has been too plain; I haven't experienced anything fervent, nor have I felt anything earth-shattering, so I cannot understand this kind of emotion.
"Smoking again?" Kusanagi's lazy, indifferent voice came from behind me.
Inside her loose, pure white shirt, her cream-soft neck was exposed. She was still carrying a large black guitar; she must have just gotten home and hadn't had time to put it down yet.
She walked in and closed the balcony door to keep the smoke from drifting, then coolly demanded, "Hey, share with me. I want one too."
I glanced at her, my thoughts drifting far away.
Would Kusanagi have someone she likes?
No, it must be others who like her. Being so beautiful, she must be confessed to by boys every day; she's probably spoiled for choice.
In a rare moment of silence, Kusanagi noticed my mood and lowered her eyes, saying nothing more. She sat with her slender, fair legs crossed, carefully wiping down her guitar. Her voice carried a hint of coldness as she asked, "Hey, do you want to hear a song?"
I looked down at her, the corners of my eyes curving imperceptibly.
The young girl began to slowly stroke the strings. The melody flowed softly and soothingly—it was a light, instrumental piece, far removed from her usual singing style.
Her dark, amber-lustrous hair swayed slightly, playfully caressed by the cool balcony breeze, curving to fit along her jawline.
"This is a chord, pronounced as 'harmony'." The young girl played a beautiful note.
"It sounds very nice."
"It only sounds good when connected with other notes."
Notes need to be with other notes; some notes are destined never to meet their harmony.
I couldn't help but ask her, "Miss Kusanagi, would you love someone regardless of the consequences?"
Before I even finished speaking, I regretted asking. I was being too sentimental tonight; it felt too unfamiliar.
The young girl stopped playing and looked up at me. "I would."
Two simple words. Reckless abandon is probably something a 16-year-old is best at.
"Can I ask you a question?"
"Go ahead," she said, continuing to stroke the strings.
"If a person has a limited number of heartbeats and cannot do anything that causes intense fluctuations in their heart rate—doing so could kill them—but she has someone she really likes, and she must run to be with them. If you were that person, would you be willing to spend money to treat your heart, or would you be willing to save all your heartbeats for the person you like?"
I gave a not-so-appropriate example; most people would choose the former. Who would be foolish enough to give up their life for love? I regretted asking immediately after; it was a silly question, one could say there was no room for choice at all.
"Does that even need a choice?" The young girl seemed to have heard an incredibly funny joke; she laughed wildly and brazenly.
My face darkened. "I know everyone would choose—"
"Of course, I'd run with all my might. I would keep running until I died." The young girl's face was filled with smiles, her tone as sweet as eating strawberry cake. "I am willing to die for the person I like."
I was stunned, and the cigarette in my hand dropped. Does this kid know what she's saying?!
Seeing my incredibly shocked expression, the young girl suddenly leaned in close to me and said in a cold, raspy voice, "I'm just kidding."
"Only a fool would do that, right?" She changed her tune again, the corners of her lips lifting, her eyes flickering incessantly.
...This kid, which sentence is actually true? But with such a mischievous personality, it should be hard for her to like someone else. Plus, she's a rich young lady; she's probably extremely picky about her partner. Ordinary people would find it hard to catch her eye.
She must be lying to me. I glared at her. Seriously, she dares to say anything.
The young girl, however, was fearless. She cleared her throat: "Listen up, I'm going to start the lesson."
Her slender fingertips plucked the strings, and her cold, clear voice flowed down like a spring, pure and cool.
The young girl hummed a tune softly. The melody was very familiar; I had actually heard it before, it was called'Sign 0'. So Kusanagi could sing this type of song too. I thought she only knew how to roar and scream wantonly; this kind of green, soft song actually suited her unexpectedly well.
"Can you understand the lyrics?"
"Miss Kusanagi, when did you learn to play guitar and sing?" I lit another cigarette, my thoughts swirling. Her singing was so refreshing and delightful that one couldn't help but be immersed in it.
Kusanagi is well-suited for this line of work, and she would also be great as an audio streamer, though the latter would be a waste of her talent. Listening to this kind of voice for a long time doesn't make you lose that initial sense of amazement; instead, it becomes more profound, thoroughly cold and unbridled.
How many people must this child be entrancing at school? Is Mr. Kuroki not worried at all?
"I learned the guitar in a month; singing is natural. Do you want to try?" The young girl handed over the guitar, full of anticipation.
Me? I'm tone-deaf; whenever I'm at KTV, I avoid singing as much as possible, otherwise I'd just make a fool of myself.
"I can't sing, let alone play the guitar..." I took it awkwardly, not knowing whether to play or not.
Kusanagi's guitar was heavy and large, its resonance very clear and rich. When I gripped the neck, it still held the lingering warmth of her palms.
Learned it in a month—is she a genius when it comes to music theory?
"I'll teach you. I am, after all, Miss Nozawa's teacher." The young girl smiled, not forgetting to take advantage of the situation even at a time like this.
I clumsily held the guitar, placed my right hand on the strings, and tried to pluck them like Kusanagi. The guitar emitted a few disgruntled, discordant noises.
"Let me teach you. Put your hand here." Kusanagi leaned in, wrapping around me from behind, her fingertips kneading my fingers. "Use this part to press the strings, and it won't hurt."
I tried it, and sure enough, the guitar successfully produced a rich, resonant note.
"Then use your left hand to press the strings, lower your hand, and relax." Her breath hit the back of my ear. Her cold voice lingered by my ear, and my heart suddenly jolted.
I was already hanging my head because I didn't know how to play, and to avoid Kusanagi's touch, I hunched my back lower and lower.
My back was almost entirely encircled in her embrace; the scent of the young girl hit me, and I couldn't escape it.
This kid, is her sense of boundaries with me getting weaker and weaker?
"Hey, pay attention. Your mind is wandering." The young girl behind me issued a warning. "These are also part of your Japanese studies; you need to remember them."
"...Mm." I forced myself to concentrate, but it was to no avail. It felt as if Kusanagi's fingertips were plucking not just the strings, but my heart.
My heart? What's wrong with me today? There's an inexplicable restlessness for no reason.
This night is truly unusual. For the first time ever, I've discussed love with a 16-year-old minor; this isn't a topic that should exist between her and me.
"If the person you love most dies, and you are still alive, how is that any different from being dead?"
I couldn't help but retort, "There are many things in life, many ties—not just love, but family and friends too. You might meet someone better in the future; by then, it'll be too late to regret. The dead cannot be resurrected; cherishing the present is what the living should do."
"I can't do that," the young girl said. "If the person I love dies, I won't live either. I will die immediately."
"..." I was speechless. I turned away and smoked silently, my heart shaken by the impact.
Which one would I choose?
I would definitely choose the first one. No one would love me like that, and I likewise couldn't love anyone else like that. Such a deep, full, pure, immature, and desperate love.
The person loved by Kusanagi should be able to experience it, right?
No, the feeling of heart palpitations and panic is becoming stronger and stronger.
"Miss Nozawa, if you lose focus again, I'm going to punish you." The young girl's tone was very dissatisfied. "Are you still going to learn or not?"
"I'm not learning anymore; the guitar is too hard." I shoved the guitar back to her. The feeling of fullness and panic in my heart left me utterly confused, and I felt vaguely depressed.
"I'm going back to my room to sleep."
With that, I opened the balcony door and fled, not daring to stay for even another second, fearing that if I stayed any longer, this intense restlessness in my heart would become even more pronounced.
The young girl didn't say anything more. She watched the direction I left in, her fingertips brushing against the lingering warmth on the guitar neck. The hot, sticky sensation indicated that the owner had also been nervous and anxious just moments ago.
A trace of emotion that no one could perceive—faint, light—silently faded away in the dark night.