Perhaps because of everything that had happened that day, Sarina Tendouji had fallen into a deep sleep. In the quiet hospital room, her steady breathing was clearly audible.
But Kitagawa Ryo was still awake. He pulled the curtain separating the two beds closed, then took out a small portable lamp from his luggage. Leaning against the bed, he read through his script for a while before picking up his phone.
There were unread messages on the screen.
When he opened them, he saw that they were from Toshirou Kindaichi, the stage director and general manager of the LALALAI theater troupe. Kindaichi had graduated from the same drama school as Ryo's adoptive father, Kitagawa Susumu. Back then, a group of like-minded graduates had decided to form a theater troupe to further hone their acting skills.
It was thanks to this connection that Kitagawa Ryo had debuted as a stage actor with the LALALAI troupe. At the time, the troupe was pitifully small, just a whimsical project by a few recent graduates.
But as Ryo's talent began to shine, the troupe's reputation and fame skyrocketed. With ample funding and a need to fill the ranks, Toshirou Kindaichi had launched a WorkShop (acting training program) in hopes of attracting promising newcomers.
Of course, the name "Kitagawa Ryo" was printed in the largest font on the promotional posters. It was all about selling the hype and drawing in more talent.
"I heard you went to Miyazaki today? It wouldn't be too much to ask for some souvenirs, would it?"
Seeing Kindaichi's familiar tone, Ryo couldn't help but smile. Compared to his overly strict adoptive father, Ryo had a much better impression of the troupe director. Due to work, Ryo had spent more time with this scruffy man than with his adoptive father, and their relationship was quite close.
Since he had already opened the message, the "unread" status instantly changed to "read." Before Ryo could reply, another message floated in:
"Kid, you're still awake, aren't you?"
"If I said I was picking out souvenirs for you, would you believe me?"
"Hah... You're definitely in some hospital right now. Forget souvenirs. If you can just make it back to Tokyo on time and teach a couple of classes to the newcomers who were lured in by your name, that'd be the best gift for me."
Seeing the long string of text, Ryo shook his head and sighed. He quietly slipped out of the room and headed to the courtyard.
But as soon as he stepped outside, he noticed a light drizzle falling from the sky. Ryo had no choice but to stand under the covered walkway by the courtyard and call Kindaichi back.
"Been drinking?"
As soon as the call connected, Ryo heard a hiccup on the other end. He wrinkled his nose, almost as if he could smell the mix of alcohol and vomit through the phone.
"...Kitagawa invited me."
Toshirou Kindaichi answered in a drunken slur:
"You know why."
"It's definitely because of my soon-to-be-born sibling, right?"
The late-night wind was bitingly cold. Ryo tightened his clothes and switched the phone to his other hand, replying with no emotional fluctuation.
"I knew... hic... you'd react like this."
Kindaichi burst into laughter on the other end:
"That's why I always had high hopes for you. People with flaws like you have the best acting skills. All that talk about 'natural talent' is just a nice way of saying it. After all, someone like you, Ryo, has been imitating normal humans since you were a kid."
"When Kitagawa adopted you, I was there too. You were only three, but you already showed a strong desire to perform, like you were desperate to be adopted. That's why Kitagawa threw you into the troupe right away."
Ryo heard the sound of gulping, as if Kindaichi had taken another swig of alcohol:
"Hey, you're not still out drinking, are you?"
"...What second round? I'm already home, drinking beer from the fridge!"
"Don't change the subject, kid."
"But don't worry too much. If that bastard Kitagawa really abandons you, you can come be my son. Then... heh."
Ryo rubbed his temples, feeling like he was wasting his time listening to a drunk's incoherent ramblings in the middle of the night:
"I'm hanging up."
He said this with a hint of annoyance and was about to end the call.
"Hey, hey, hey... Fine, go ahead and hang up."
"But let me just say one last thing. It's fine to act, to study your roles, but don't lose yourself in it. If you're sneaking into hospitals now, what are you going to do if you play a character who's about to commit suicide? Are you..."
Before Kindaichi could finish, Ryo decisively hung up.
He put his phone back in his pocket and returned to the room, quietly slipping back into his bed. He noticed that Kindaichi had sent two more messages.
"By the way, there's a kid in this WorkShop batch who's also from an orphanage. How should I put it? Her traits seem... different from yours."
"It was Katsuya who recommended her. He met her while scouting models for a fashion magazine. She's signed with Ichigo Pro and is being groomed as an idol. She's just here to learn some basic acting."
Attached to the message was a photo.
It was the same girl Ryo had seen from Mr. Izaki earlier—Hoshino Ai. She was wearing a light-colored hoodie and a white baseball cap. Her features were undeniably beautiful.
But her posture was terrible, her gaze wandering, as if she had never received any acting training. Compared to the other newcomers, she stood out like a sore thumb.
Hearing this name repeatedly in such a short time, Ryo found it amusing. He curled his lips into a slight smile and casually replied:
"Got it."
Then he turned off his phone, pulled up the covers, and soon fell asleep.
Ryo wasn't picky about beds—a convenient trait for an actor.
"Good morning, Sarina."
The next morning, as Sarina Tendouji opened her eyes, Kitagawa Ryo had just pulled open the curtains. He tilted his head slightly and greeted her with a smile.
But unlike the scenes often seen in dramas, there was no bright sunlight streaming through the window, nor did it happen to illuminate his face with a dazzling halo. It had rained last night, and today was overcast.
"Good morning..."
Sarina instinctively replied, but her throat was still dry from just waking up, making her voice sound oddly hoarse. She coughed a few times, feeling embarrassed.
"I poured you some water."
Ryo nodded toward the nightstand beside her, where a glass of water sat. The temperature was just right—not too hot, not too cold. Holding it in her hands felt comforting, and as she gulped it down, she felt a warm sensation slide down her throat and into her stomach.
"Good morning, Ryo."
As if feeling that her earlier greeting didn't count, Sarina waved her hand and said it again. She had slept with her hat on, and it swayed slightly with her movements.
It was almost like an external organ that had become a permanent part of her body.
She had slept well last night and woke up without any drowsiness, even feeling a bit excited. If every morning in the past had felt like a bottomless pit—long and dark—then this morning, for the first time, Sarina felt a sense of anticipation for the new day.
Ryo walked over and bent down to straighten the slippers by Sarina's bed. She felt that his gaze carried a kind of direct yet gentle, transparent yet fearless strength.
"Let's get washed up first."
He looked up and said this, and in that moment, a bright, clean canine tooth seemed to pierce straight into the girl's pupils.
While Sarina Tendouji was washing up, Kitagawa Ryo put on his hat and left the room alone. Dressed in his hospital gown, he blended in seamlessly among the patients and doctors coming and going.
To avoid causing a commotion, the hospital had issued a notice, and even the nurses who had been eagerly discussing him the day before were now quietly at their posts.
Because of the light rain last night and the drop in temperature this morning, an early frost had knocked the last remaining leaves from the trees. The early-rising janitors had already swept them into piles, and the leaves lay quietly under the trees, filling the courtyard with a comforting yet slightly bitter earthy scent.
Ryo stepped off the path and bent down. His shoes crunched on the damp, brittle leaves as he picked up a relatively dry one. He easily crushed it into tiny pieces along the veins, then tossed them into the air, letting them scatter.
During the initial scriptwriting process, he had heard the director mention that they had debated what season the protagonist should die in.
Dying in the spring, when everything comes back to life, would create a stark contrast. Dying in the scorching summer would evoke the fleeting beauty of fireworks. Dying in the falling leaves of autumn would embody the essence of mono no aware (the pathos of things). Dying in the snowy winter would carry a chilling, piercing beauty.
While the director and screenwriter were still deliberating, Ryo remembered the assistant director, Taishi Gotanda, saying:
"Osamu Dazai once wrote in a book: 'I once thought of death. This New Year, someone gave me a kimono as a gift. The fabric was linen, with thin gray-blue stripes. It was probably meant for summer wear, so I thought I might as well live until summer.'"
"But for patients, most of the time, the time of death isn't something they can choose. No matter how strong their will to live is, it can't compete with the progression of their illness."
"Any depiction of scenery or external environment can be saved for when they're still alive or during the funeral. When it comes to the moment of death, the camera should focus entirely on the actor. As for the background, the emptier and lonelier, the better."
In the end, the assistant director's suggestion was accepted by the director and screenwriter, and they decided to leave the most crucial scene entirely to Kitagawa Ryo's acting.
After pondering the script for a while longer, Ryo returned to the room. Sarina Tendouji had put on a beige jacket and thick pants that covered her ankles.
Sarina's movements were slower than Ryo had expected. By the time he returned to the room, she was still meticulously brushing her teeth in the bathroom.
Although the room had its own private bathroom, it was too small for two people to use at the same time. Ryo had gotten up early partly to avoid overlapping their routines.
Hospital meals were provided by the facility, and considering Sarina's limited mobility, a nurse delivered breakfast to her room every morning. Before Ryo could sit down, a nurse entered, placing the meal on the table and eagerly handing Ryo a notepad and pen.
Used to such requests, Ryo smiled lightly at her. Just as he was about to sign his name, he noticed a small line of text on the notepad:
"Hope Ryo's movie is a huge success!"
["Thank you for your support—Kitagawa Ryo"]
He carefully wrote his name and handed the notepad back to the nurse, who held it like a treasure as she walked out.
While Ryo was signing, Sarina was feeling restless, occasionally glancing at the door.
Because Ryo had moved in, the toothbrushes and cups on the sink had gone from one set to two. Plain white and pink, they leaned against each other.
Sarina was using a children's toothpaste that Ryo had once endorsed. The bright orange packaging was appealing to kids, and the flavor was a sweet, refreshing orange.
In stark contrast, Ryo's toothpaste had no label or brand, looking like some generic product.
But that wasn't what Sarina was concerned about right now.
She carefully observed Ryo's movements outside the door and took the toothbrush out of her mouth.
Perhaps intentionally, or perhaps accidentally, after brushing her teeth for half a minute as usual, Sarina realized she had picked up the wrong toothbrush.
To put it plainly, she was using Kitagawa Ryo's toothbrush.
Upon realizing this, the girl's emotions rapidly cycled through: Did I just score?—If he finds out, will I be socially dead?—No, no, some idols even sell their bathwater, so this should be fine, right?—Wait, Ryo's an actor, not an idol—But I'm a patient, what if I infect him? Then I'd be a criminal—Wait, do I even have a contagious disease? and so on.
After her brain short-circuited for three minutes, Sarina Tendouji finally decided to confess this embarrassing mishap to Ryo.
Although Sarina was technically a few years older than Ryo, from the moment they met, she had acted more like a younger sister who hadn't quite grown up.
After Ryo assured her it was fine, Sarina finally settled down to eat breakfast.
The room's table was spotless, cleaned by hospital staff more than three times a day. Ryo had already eaten. He propped his head on his hand and watched Sarina eat attentively. The mirror-like tabletop reflected their faint silhouettes, casting them onto the ceiling as if they were floating in a vast body of water.
That morning, Ryo had run into Dr. Gorou Amamiya in the hospital cafeteria and asked about Sarina's condition.
If nothing unexpected happened, Sarina Tendouji would likely stay here until her death... No, when her condition worsened, she would be transferred to another intensive care unit. But by then, she would already be in the final countdown of her life.
Thinking of this, Ryo found the walls and ceiling unbearably white, glaring like shards of glass that stabbed at his eyes.
And in a corner Ryo didn't notice, someone quietly put away their camera, having captured a satisfying shot.