Epilogue
The boarding house is, as ever, bustling with chaos today. Before I knew it, the seasons had turned, and the air now carries the full scent of winter.
“Yay! First one out!”
Shoji-kun swings his black scarf energetically as he puts on his shoes. He says there’s no morning practice today, which is rare.
“Hey, I’ve been meaning to say this, but could you stop showing off the scarf I made to everyone?”
With a sigh, Kaho follows behind.
“What—no way! A handmade scarf from Kaho-chan is my pride!”
“Don’t say it even if it’s your pride.”
They’re not lovers. It’s just dependable Kaho looking after Shoji-kun, apparently, but I secretly think they’re compatible and hold hopes for their future.
“Yawn…”
Coming to the entrance last with a big yawn is Towa. As always, he’s cutting it close on time, his bedhead so bad I wonder how he sleeps.
“Seriously, really…”
“All that ‘really really’—are you a cow?”
“You don’t have to be quick with just comebacks!”
“Yeah, yeah.”
Towa isn’t fazed by my nagging at all, which sometimes irks me. But I find even that dear.
Since then, the galaxy rising from Towa’s body has lessened bit by bit, and now, strangely, it’s gone. There’s no effective treatment for Grim Reaper Syndrome. So the illness won’t ever leave me, and even if it did, there’s no way to confirm it.
But Towa said my “like” makes him happy. He called the lifespan-stealing galaxy beautiful. He chose to be with me despite it. What if that strong feeling was the cure for Grim Reaper Syndrome?
It’s just my hypothesis, but I can’t help wishing it were true. That Towa made that miracle. That’s why I want to be hope for those with Grim Reaper Syndrome in this world. The answer Towa and I found might save someone.
“Here, your so-called favorite, a star.”
On the way to school, Towa picks up a pyrite for me. “You’re so unromantic,” I retort, but wrap it in my handkerchief and put it in my bag.
“More importantly, who’ve you been texting since earlier?”
Towa glances sideways at my phone.
“Nakata-sensei.”
I heard from Towa that Nakata-sensei is living well. And that he’d noticed my illness. I still feel pained and sorry for making him leave preschool because of it. But he said not to worry and invited me to visit the guesthouse where he works once things settle. I thought I was alone, but I wasn’t. Ten years ago, Nakata-sensei was there, my dad and mom were there, and Towa was beside me. It’s been a long detour, but I’m keenly feeling the love I’d overlooked now.
“Just so you know, he’s got a wife and kid.”
“I know that. Wait—what? Jealous?”
“Yeah, got a problem?”
Towa’s childish in odd ways. He formally asked me out a week after that sea incident. I’d gotten mad over something trivial, and he said it with words to make up. He’d planned a better moment, apparently, and said it wasn’t the timing he wanted, but it felt so him—so fitting a start for our new bond.
“Hey, it’d be nice to camp with everyone again. They say winter stargazing’s gorgeous—I wanna take tons of pics.”
“Oh, then I’ll prep the tent again! Let’s cook this time. Like rice in a clay pot.”
“Sounds great!”
I haven’t told Kaho and Shoji-kun about Grim Reaper Syndrome yet. But the day I ran away and returned drenched, they said “welcome back” without asking anything. So I want to cherish this friendship going forward.
“Oh, right. What’s up with that thing?”
Towa, walking beside me, says as if recalling.
“That thing?”
“The star naming rights.”
The star naming rights his dad gifted him. Seems he can’t think of anything alone, so we’re deciding together.
“I told you, right? I want a Towa star.”
“Nothing else?”
“Nope!”
“Isn’t it a bit clunky?”
“It’s fine. It’s our star no one else knows anyway.”
Its spot’s closest to the moon. Tiny, maybe unnoticed by all, but our star will keep shining ahead. That alone lets me face forward no matter what.
“Hey, Towa.”
“Hm?”
I gently take his hand. Towa’s hand is always big and kind.
“Let’s go home separately today.”
“Why?”
“Get back before me, no matter what.”
“Still doing that?”
“Just today! Promise.”
“Fine.”
Towa looks reluctant, but never lets go of my hand.
In a few hours, you’ll head back alone, walking the boarding house hall as sunset streams in. You’ll find the path a lucky star traces. A star glowing with aurora leads to my room, and you’ll pick up my reply to your love letter.
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