The rain was cold against his skin, a fitting end. It was always raining. Rain when his parents died, rain when his grandparents passed, and now, a gentle, sad drizzle when his sister took her last, stuttering breath in that sterile hospital bed.
Harashi Saji walked aimlessly, the cheap liquor he had chugged burning in his empty stomach. The bottle had been the last of his money. There was nothing left now. Nothing.
His shoes squelched in puddles, a rhythmic, mournful sound. He didn't feel the cold. He didn't feel the rain. He didn't feel anything at all. He had felt so much for so long that his heart had simply worn out. It was just a numb, hollow ache where his love for them all used to be.
He remembered her, his sister, Hinata. Her tiny hand in his, so warm and trusting. He had promised to protect her, to take care of her, but the world was cruel and their luck had run out long before they were born. He had watched her cough up blood, her small body withering away, a flower without sunlight.
He had held her hand and smiled, telling her stories about a garden full of sunflowers, just so she could have a moment of peace. The lie felt like a rock in his throat.
Now, her face was just a memory, one that played on a loop in his mind. He would never see her bright eyes again. He would never hear her soft laugh. He was alone. Truly, utterly alone.
The thought was a comfort. The loneliness was a familiar blanket. It was better this way. There was no one else left to suffer. He had to be the last one.
A car horn blared, but the sound was distant, muffled by the fog in his brain. He stared at the sky, the dark clouds a mirror of his soul. A tear traced a path down his cheek, mixing with the rain. Was it a tear? He didn't know. He hadn't cried in a while.
The numbness had taken that from him, too. He just let the water fall, feeling nothing but a faint, ghostly relief that the world was finally as gray as he was.
He stopped in the middle of the street. He didn't look left or right. What was the point? His feet were so heavy, anchored by a weight that had been building since he was a child.
He was so tired of walking, of living, of breathing. He just wanted to stop. He wanted the heavy, constant pressure on his chest to finally, finally go away.
Suddenly, a blinding light filled his vision. It wasn't the sun, or a streetlight. It was brighter, cleaner, a cold, pure white that consumed everything. In that instant, his mind was clear. He saw his sister's face, her beautiful smile. He saw his parents, his grandparents, all of them together in that garden of sunflowers he had made up.
They were waiting. The cold in his heart was replaced by a strange warmth.
He didn't have time to think. The grinding sound of tires on wet pavement was the last thing he heard, a screeching melody that promised peace. He felt a sharp jolt, then a strange floating sensation, as if the weight that had held him down his entire life had finally been lifted.
His body was a puppet, and the strings were cut. He didn't feel the pain, just the overwhelming relief.
'Thank you.' He thought, a silent whisper to the driver he never saw. He didn't regret anything. Not the suffering, not the loneliness. It had all led to this. It had all led him home. His life had been a long, painful journey, and he was finally at the end. The last feeling he had was a faint sense of gratitude. Then, there was nothing. Only the sweet, silent darkness.