When The Sea Meets The Sky

Chapter 2: The Weight of Time

The rain hadn’t let up. It drummed softly against the hospital windows, a muted rhythm in the background that echoed through the walls. Rei sat by his window, watching the raindrops blur the cityscape outside, his mind wandering back to the strange girl he’d met yesterday.

“Three months.” The words clung to his mind, reverberating over and over until he could almost hear them spoken aloud. A girl who only had three months to live—she had said it so plainly, as if it were just a matter of fact. Yet something in her eyes had been distant, veiled, a calm resignation he didn’t understand.

It wasn’t the first time he’d encountered that look. In a different time and place, he’d seen it on his mother’s face, a quiet acceptance in her final months. He hadn’t understood it then, either. Back then, he was only a child watching helplessly as the most important person in his world faded, inch by inch. Now, years later, the memory of that distant look twisted in his mind, mixing with Rin’s unshaken gaze.

A shiver ran through him, despite the room’s warmth. Recovery was supposed to be the end of his fear, yet somehow, here it was again, surfacing in the most unexpected way.

“Rei?” The doctor’s voice jolted him back to the present. He turned, blinking as his doctor entered the room with a warm smile. Dr. Nakahara had been his doctor since the beginning, guiding him through procedures, setbacks, and a seemingly endless wait for recovery. He was always gentle, cautious with his words—a man who understood the balance between offering hope and managing expectations.

“How are you today?” Dr. Nakahara asked, glancing at the chart before settling into the chair beside him.

Rei managed a slight smile. “Better, I think. Still getting used to… everything.”

“Understandable.” The doctor’s eyes softened. “You’ve come a long way, Rei. You’re in the final stretch now.”

The final stretch. The words felt foreign. For the past six years, it had always been an uphill climb, one hurdle after another. His illness had shadowed every day of his adolescence, something he simply endured because there was no other choice. But yesterday, for the first time, he’d met someone whose path was so drastically different. Three months. For her, time was a dwindling thread. For him, it was opening up, filled with the kind of potential he’d long forgotten how to hope for.

“Do you… think about that, sometimes?” Rei’s voice was hesitant, the question catching him by surprise. “About what happens after?”

The doctor studied him quietly, and Rei could sense the caution in his gaze. “That’s natural, especially for someone like you. You've spent a lot of time on the other side, facing things most people your age can’t imagine. It’s only normal to wonder what comes next.”

Rei’s gaze dropped to his hands, fingers tracing invisible patterns on the edge of his blanket. What comes next. He’d spent years fighting for it, and yet now, the thought of stepping beyond the hospital walls felt… hollow, somehow. If he was truly on the verge of a new beginning, why did he feel as if he were standing at the edge of something vast and empty?

“Anyway, take it easy,” Dr. Nakahara said, standing up. “One step at a time, Rei. You’ve made it through the hardest part.”

As the doctor left, Rei let out a long breath, feeling the tension lift slightly. Maybe he’d been carrying it too long to recognize its weight, but somehow, the mention of “recovery” left him feeling lighter. With a sudden need to move, he stood up, stretched his stiff limbs, and decided to take a walk.

The hallways of the hospital were quiet, muted by the soft rumble of rain outside. He passed by the family waiting rooms, the occasional glimpse of loved ones huddled together a reminder of his own long nights of waiting, wondering, hoping. His mind wandered back to Rin, to her calm acceptance of the inevitable.