When Akira opened his eyes, everything around him was pitch black. Somewhere close to his ear, an instrument ticked steadily.
It didn't take much thought to realize it was already night.
As his vision slowly adjusted to the faint silver light slipping in through the window, the white ceiling above him came into focus — clean, unfamiliar, and far too neat to be anywhere but a hospital.
A dull throb pulsed at the back of his head, joined by the tingling sting of his left arm. For a split second, the thought of being kidnapped crossed his mind. But the warm weight of the blanket over him and the sharp scent of disinfectant in the air quickly dismissed that idea.
No — this was definitely a hospital room. Someone must have brought him here while he was unconscious. Who exactly, though, was another question entirely.
He tried to shift his left arm to investigate the stinging sensation, but after a few failed tugs, he realized something heavy was holding it down.
The "something heavy" stirred.
"Akira...?"
The voice was unmistakable — Shouko. But it was soft, shaky, with a faint tremor that told him she'd been crying.
He could easily picture it: her sitting there for hours, probably refusing to leave until he woke up. A pang of guilt tugged at him.
"Akira, do you feel bad anywhere? Why aren't you saying anything?" she asked, leaning closer when he didn't answer right away.
"...A little thirsty."
"Oh—oh! Wait, I'll get you some water."
She jumped up from her chair and hurried to the wall, flicking the light switch. A burst of brightness flooded his vision, forcing him to squeeze his eyes shut before opening them again slowly.
"Here, drink this."
She held out a disposable cup filled with water. When he just lay there, unmoving, she coaxed gently, "I tested it. It's not hot."
He noticed her red, slightly puffy eyes, but said nothing. Under her quiet insistence, he took the cup and sipped, letting the cool water soothe his throat.
"Where's Mom and Dad?" he asked after a pause, scanning the plain single room — bed, chair, small bathroom, and a machine humming softly beside him.
"Uncle and Auntie were running around all night, so I told them to go home and rest," Shouko explained. She took out her phone and showed him the time: 2:21 a.m.
"Sorry for making you worry..." he murmured.
Shouko only shook her head, collecting his empty cup and refilling it. Then she said, "I'll call Auntie and let her know you're awake."
She stepped out, phone in hand, returning five minutes later.
"Did she say anything?" Akira asked.
Shouko smiled faintly. "No. She just scolded me for waking her up and disturbing her beauty sleep."
When she reached for his cup again, he stopped her with a raised hand.
"No need. I'm not thirsty anymore."
"Are you hungry, then? I can go get you something to eat."
"It's the middle of the night. What's even open right now?" he replied, shaking his head.
"I could go home and make something. It's not far—" she began, only to freeze as Akira's hand pressed her gently back into the chair.
"You're not wandering around outside alone at this hour. I'm fine, really."
"...Okay," she said, though her mind was already plotting a late-night snack run after he fell asleep.
"I'll turn the lights off. Try to rest — Auntie will bring breakfast in the morning."
"Mm."
She clicked the switch, and darkness reclaimed the room. Returning to the chair, she became a faint silhouette outlined by the soft glow of the monitoring device.
"Isn't it uncomfortable, sleeping sitting up like that?" Akira asked.
"It's fine. Like a nap at school," she replied lightly.
"...How about we squeeze together? I don't have any IV lines or wires on me, and nothing really hurts..."
The moment the words left his mouth, he wondered what he was thinking. Shouko would never—
"Okay."
Before he could react, she had already set the cup down, slipped off her shoes, and lifted the blanket.
"Move over. You're hogging all the space."
Akira shuffled aside obediently. It wasn't as if they hadn't shared a bed before — though the last time had been only a month or two ago.
"Does your head still hurt?" she asked once she was under the blanket, staring up at the ceiling.
"No," he said, watching her profile in the moonlight.
She turned to meet his gaze, trying to read his expression. The faint warmth of his breath brushed against her cheek, quickening her pulse.
"Aren't you sleepy?" he asked.
She shook her head, resting one leg lightly over his. Akira reached up and brushed his fingers gently over her swollen eyelids.
Shouko didn't pull away, letting him trace the outline softly.
"Akira, go to sleep. My eyes will be fine after a bit of rest." She offered him a small, reassuring smile — though her own heart was beating far too fast.
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