Part 12: I Did What I Had To
A little while later, the heavy entrance doors slid open, and Akari and Renjiro walked into the clinic ward empty-handed. Their hair was wind-blown, their expressions completely drained, and their shoulders slumped under the crushing weight of failure. They had searched every secondary line and distant lead, only to come back to zero options.
"We couldn't find anyone..." Akari whispered, her voice cracking as she leaned against the counter for support. "Nobody is compatible."
Dr. Ken closed his medical binder with a heavy sigh. He looked at the two guardians, then reached over to a tray on the side desk, picking up a bundle of items—a few small folded notes, a handmade string charm, a small vase of wildflowers, and the large class card covered in hand-written messages.
"Haruto's academy classmates brought these earlier," Dr. Ken said quietly. "They thought Kaito was still admitted here as well, so they left extra well-wishes for both of them. Since Kaito was discharged, they left it all beside Haruto's bed."
Dr. Ken handed the bundle to Renjiro, looking at them with a serious, unyielding gaze.
"Take these home to Kaito," Dr. Ken advised, his tone grave. "Show him that people care about them both. And... ask him again. Maybe seeing this might reach him. Maybe he'll change his mind. Because right now, he truly is our only hope."
Akari and Renjiro took the items and set out on the long, agonizing walk back to the Inazuma household.
When they finally stepped through the genkan, the house was pitch black and silent. Expecting Kaito to be barricaded in his room, Akari stepped down the hall to check—only to find Kaito's bedroom door wide open.
The room was completely empty.
Panic seized them instantly. Akari sank onto the sofa, completely giving up as tears finally spilled over her cheeks. The grief and helplessness overwhelmed her—they hadn't been able to save Ayame, Haruto was lying on a hospital bed fading away without a donor, and now Kaito had disappeared into the dark.
Renjiro refused to sit still. Gritting his teeth against the despair, he rushed back out into the night, knocking on doors throughout the neighborhood, asking frantically if anyone had seen Kaito. But every neighbor simply shook their heads—nobody had seen the boy leave, and nobody knew where he had gone.
Exhausted, battered, and defeated, Renjiro finally returned to the house. He walked into the dark living room and collapsed onto the sofa beside Akari, staring blankly at the floorboards.
"They don't know..." Renjiro rasped out, his hands shaking on his knees. "Nobody's seen him."
The house settled into a suffocating, unbearable silence. The two guardians sat together in the dark, stripped of all strength, simply waiting for a miracle that felt impossible.
Click.
After what felt like an eternity, the front sliding door dragged open and closed with a quiet thud.
Faint, uneven footsteps echoed in the hallway.
Akari and Renjiro snapped their heads up and rushed toward the entrance.
Standing at the threshold was Kaito. His clothes were dusty and rumpled, his breath coming in ragged, whistling gasps as if he had been running across the village for miles. He looked completely exhausted, his posture swaying—but as the moonlight caught his face, he was smiling. A strange, tired grin pulled at his lips.
Wrapped tightly around his right hand and forearm was a stark white, fresh medical bandage.
Renjiro took an urgent step forward, his eyes wide in shock. "Kaito?! Where were you?!"
Kaito lifted his head, his dark eyes gleam with a mixture of raw exhaustion and fierce resolve.
"I DID WHAT I HAD TO!" Kaito yelled out, his chest heaving.
Before either guardian could move toward him, Kaito's knees completely gave out beneath his weight, and he collapsed forward, falling heavily onto the hard wooden floorboards.