The warm feeling of blood being injected into his cold body mixed with the noise of medical equipment and surgery sounds that echoed in his ears like a cacophony of noise, and his already hazy eyes were gradually covered by a dark mist.
The thing called consciousness was being washed away.
He knew it. But what if he knew? He couldn't stop it. The pain, the exhaustion, the cold that seeped into his joints, all of it made his thoughts become disjointed. His mind was like an old clock, each gear turning slowly, making an unpleasant screeching sound before stopping completely.
But before he completely fell into darkness—
A fragment of memory floated in the dark night.
The distant sound of summer in his childhood. The chirping of cicadas, the clear blue sky reflected in the clear eyes of a child. Reddish-brown hair swaying in the gentle breeze. A hand reached out, grabbed his small hand, and pulled him along the stone-paved path that stretched to the end of the horizon.
That voice, so familiar it hurt.
—"Hey, Yumeji, what do you want to be when you grow up?"
Grow up?
Why did you ask that?
He didn't remember how he answered. Perhaps he just looked up at that person, and then laughed foolishly.
Because, at that time, he was still a child who didn't understand this world.
And now, when he knew so much about this world, he wanted to return to those days more than ever.
Everything gradually faded, the image vanished like a fleeting dream. Only absolute darkness remained.
He didn't know if he would ever open his eyes again.
He also wasn't sure who would be the first person he would see when he did.
But if he could have one more dream…
If he could…
He wanted to hear that voice again.
The sound of rain gently tapped against the windowpane, blending with the dim yellow glow of the streetlights filtering through the dusty glass.
Inside the small apartment, Yumeji Satsuki sat leaning against an old wooden chair, his gaze quietly following the raindrops as they traced long paths down the window—almost as if they were competing to see which one would fall first.
In his hands was the wedding invitation of his older sister, Yumeji Saya. The embossed letters on the luxurious paper made his mind feel hazy.
Saya... is getting married? A part of him felt happy, yet there was also an empty feeling slowly spreading in his chest. It wasn't that he didn't wish for her happiness, but... something familiar in his life was about to disappear forever.
Back when their mother decided to separate from their father, Saya had been the one to take care of him. From preparing simple meals to helping him with homework, she had always been there during his most difficult years. But now, as she left to start a new life, he felt more lost than ever.
Saya was no ordinary woman. At present, she was a well-known psychologist, but her past had nothing to do with the elegance of her profession.
She had once been the leader of a notorious street-racing gang, a monstrous force on the roads that no one dared to challenge. Unruly, cunning, and foul-mouthed—she was someone who could give anyone a headache. Not only that, but she also suffered from Chuunibyou and was an Otaku obsessed with action and sci-fi movies. In other words, she was eccentric beyond belief.
But the most terrifying thing about her was her combat skills. Saya wasn't just a psychologist—she was the kind of doctor who would pin down and dominate her patients if they were out of control. And like Yumeji, she deeply valued the sanctity of life, though her way of showing it was sometimes... a little rough.
Suddenly, a bright voice called out from outside the window.
"Hey, Yume-chan, brooding like an 80-year-old grandpa again?"
Uchimiya Hazuki—his childhood friend, neighbor, and coworker at the café—was leaning against the balcony railing of the apartment next door, his emerald eyes twinkling mischievously. Hazuki's shoulder-length hair swayed slightly in the breeze, and with his playful smile, he looked like a lost fairy wandering through the neon-lit streets of Tokyo.
"80-year-old my ass, I'm only 17,"-Yumeji retorted.
"Uh-huh, and what are you up to?"
Hazuki giggled, covering his mouth, his curious eyes scanning Yumeji's room before settling back on him with an inquisitive glint.
"I'm crafting a gift," Yumeji replied, his voice quiet but still carrying its usual cold edge.
"Oh? A gift for a secret lover, perhaps?" Hazuki chuckled, effortlessly hopping over the railing into Yumeji's room.
"If that's the case, you should consult a gift expert like me!"
"Don't just barge into my room like that… And it's for my sister." Yumeji placed the invitation down on the table, intertwining his fingers.
"I don't have much money, but I want to make something with my own hands for her. Something she can keep as a memory."
Hazuki rested his chin on his hand, his eyes gleaming with interest.
"Hmm, in that case… Why not try making something handcrafted? A bracelet, a handwritten card, or maybe an item that truly represents you?"
Yumeji fell silent, contemplating the suggestion. Then, suddenly, an idea sparked in his mind.
"Maybe I'll make a music box," he murmured.
Hazuki blinked before bursting into laughter.
"A music box? Wow, how romantic! But that's not an easy thing to make. Are you sure you can do it?"
"You won't know unless you try," Yumeji smirked slightly.
"Didn't you always tell me to challenge myself?"
Hazuki shrugged, his smile never fading.
"Alright, alright. Here's the deal—tomorrow, after our shift at the café, we'll go find the materials. I want to see just how skillful our dear Yume-chan really is!"
Yumeji didn't reply, but a faint sense of relief settled in his chest. No matter how difficult life was right now, no matter how uncertain the days ahead seemed, at the very least, someone was still by his side—even if it was just a troublesome friend who enjoyed teasing him like Hazuki.
Outside, the rain continued to fall. But within the small room, the dim light cast a warm glow on the two young souls, each carrying their own silent burdens.
#####
The sound of wind chimes gently echoed as Yumeji pushed open the glass door and stepped into the small café nestled in an alleyway in the heart of Tokyo.
The rich aroma of freshly roasted coffee blended with the subtle sweetness of pastries, creating an atmosphere that was always comforting, even on the dreariest rainy days.
Inside, familiar customers sat scattered around wooden tables, engaged in quiet conversations or focused on their laptops. Behind the counter, a familiar figure was busy preparing drinks. His loosely tied long hair revealed delicate features, and his emerald-green eyes gleamed mischievously the moment he noticed Yumeji walking in.
"Oh, Yume-chan! Right on time, huh? Not bad, not bad~" Uchimiya Hazuki called out, skillfully tilting his wrist as he poured steamed milk into a cappuccino.
"It's work. Of course, I have to be on time," Yumeji replied calmly, taking off his rain-dampened coat and hanging it on the rack before heading behind the counter to change into his uniform.
"But you seem more exhausted than usual today."
Hazuki rested his chin on his hand, his gaze sparkling with amusement. "Don't tell me you lost sleep last night thinking of ways to confess to someone?"
"Shut up." Yumeji shot him a glare but didn't deny that he had, in fact, spent hours tossing and turning, trying to figure out how to make a music box for Saya.
Making a music box was no simple task. He had spent the night researching, watching various tutorial videos, yet each step seemed to demand an immense amount of patience and precision.
Even so, he was determined to try. It was the only thing he could craft with his own hands as a gift for the sister who had always been there for him.
"So, have you decided on the song yet?" Hazuki asked casually as he wiped a glass.
Yumeji hesitated for a moment before nodding slightly. "Her favorite song."
"Oh-ho? Is that so?" Hazuki raised an eyebrow before suddenly setting the glass down, leaning forward on the counter with a mischievous grin.
"Let me guess… A soundtrack from some sci-fi movie?"
Yumeji didn't answer, but the way he averted his gaze just slightly was enough to make Hazuki chuckle.
"Knew it! Your sister is such an interesting woman. I wonder if she ever forces her patients to watch the entire 'Star Wars' series before giving them therapy?"
Yumeji couldn't help but let out a small laugh at that. Honestly, if there were ever a therapist who would drag their patients into the world of otaku culture, it would definitely be Yumeji Saya.
"Alright, alright, I'll stop teasing," Hazuki said, patting his shoulder, his playful smirk softening into something more sincere.
"You're serious about making that music box, aren't you?"
"Yeah."
"Then…" Hazuki flashed a thumbs-up.
"After our shift, come with me. I know a place that sells music box parts!"
Yumeji blinked in surprise. "Really?"
"Of course! Did you forget that I have a thing for intricate mechanical crafts? There's this store specializing in handmade goods—I've been there a couple of times."
Yumeji hadn't expected to find the materials so easily. He had assumed he'd have to search for them on his own, but it seemed Hazuki really did know a lot of things.
The two quickly refocused on their work. The rhythmic sounds of the coffee machine, the slicing of cakes, and the quiet chatter of customers blended into a familiar harmony. No matter how difficult life was outside, at least during this time, Yumeji had a place where he could momentarily forget everything.
---
By evening, when the city lights illuminated the streets, Hazuki led Yumeji down a quiet alleyway. After weaving through a few turns, they stopped in front of a small shop with a wooden sign that read "Atelier Nostalgia."
Inside, the store exuded a cozy atmosphere, filled with antique clocks and beautifully crafted music boxes displayed on wooden shelves. The warm yellow lighting reflected off the intricate mechanical pieces, making them look even more enchanting.
"Welcome, boys." An elderly man with silver hair and round glasses greeted them from behind the counter.
Hazuki quickly stepped forward, enthusiastically explaining that Yumeji wanted to make a music box. The old man nodded in understanding and guided them to a corner displaying DIY music box kits.
Yumeji carefully selected a wooden case, a mechanical music movement, and a small winding key. He even found a cylinder that played the exact melody his sister loved.
"Well chosen, young man." The old shopkeeper smiled kindly as he accepted the payment. "A handmade gift carries the greatest meaning. Put your heart into it."
Yumeji gave a small nod, determination shining in his eyes. He wasn't the best at expressing his feelings through words, but through this gift, he wanted to convey everything that mattered.
As they stepped out of the store, Hazuki lightly patted his shoulder.
"Alright, Yume-chan. You got this."
The rain had stopped, but the puddles on the street still reflected the city lights—like a silent melody playing in the night.
_______
After leaving the store, Yumeji and Hazuki parted ways on a street near the train station. On the way home, Yumeji kept opening the paper bag to check the music box components. Everything was perfect—each tiny gear, each winding shaft gleamed with precision and craftsmanship.
He couldn't remember the last time he had felt this kind of anticipation. Was it because, for the first time, he was making something with his own hands for Saya?
The small apartment where Yumeji lived stood quietly in the night. He carefully opened the door, avoiding any noise that might disturb the neighbors. A faint smell of cigarettes lingered in the air, mixed with the remnants of alcohol.
Not surprising. His father had probably drunk himself unconscious in his room again.
Silently, Yumeji entered his own room, locked the door, and turned on the small desk lamp.
Inside the paper box, the components shimmered under the warm light. He carefully took out each piece, arranging them in order on the table.
"Alright..."
Taking a deep breath, Yumeji picked up a screwdriver and began assembling.
The night breeze gently swayed the curtains. The clock hands had already pointed to 2 AM, but he still wasn't done. Assembling the music mechanism wasn't as easy as he had imagined. More than once, the gears got stuck between the rotating shafts, forcing him to disassemble and try again. But quitting wasn't an option.
Because more than anyone, he understood the value of small yet sincere efforts.
He recalled his childhood, back when his mother had just separated from his father. At that time, Saya was the only one by his side.
"Hey, kid. Stop crying already."
Under the streetlights that night, Saya had sat down beside him and handed him a cold can of soda. Her smile, mischievous yet gentle, was something Yumeji had never seen in anyone else.
"This world really sucks, huh? But if you just keep complaining, nothing's gonna change." She lightly patted his head, her gaze firm.
"If you want to protect something, you need to become stronger."
Even if others called her a delinquent, a reckless gang leader, to Yumeji, Saya would always be the strongest person he knew.
That was why he wanted to give her something truly meaningful. A gift that could express the gratitude he could never put into words.
Yumeji tightened his grip on the screwdriver and continued his work.
---
Another day passed. During their shift at the café, Hazuki curiously inquired about the progress of the music box.
"How's it going?"
"Almost done." Yumeji answered briefly, his eyes still focused on the brewing coffee.
"That so? Then… are you free tonight?"
Yumeji frowned. "What are you planning now?"
Hazuki smirked mischievously, resting his chin on his hand as he looked at him. "Nothing too crazy. But, if you want the music box to look better, there's something you need."
He blinked playfully before pulling a tiny object from his pocket—a teardrop-shaped crystal.
"A little decoration for the music box. Makes it look more dazzling, don't you think?"
Yumeji stared at the crystal for a moment before slowly taking it.
Hazuki was always like this—constantly inserting himself into Yumeji's life in odd ways, yet never doing anything meaningless.
"Drop by my place tonight. I've got lacquer and some cool tools." Hazuki winked.
"Let's make your music box perfect."
Yumeji remained silent for a moment before nodding.
Though he didn't say it out loud, he felt relieved knowing that he didn't have to do everything alone.
---
That night, Yumeji carried the unfinished music box to Hazuki's apartment.
His place was right next door, yet the atmosphere was completely different from Yumeji's room.
Warm lighting cast a cozy glow over every corner, bookshelves packed with novels and manga. The air carried a faint scent of herbal tea, creating an oddly relaxing feeling.
Hazuki wore an oversized hoodie, his long hair loosely tied back. The moment he saw Yumeji step in, he immediately raised both hands in greeting.
"Welcome to Uchimiya Hazuki's magical music box workshop! The entry fee is a cup of black coffee, by the way."
Yumeji sighed, shooting him a glare. "Can't you cut back on the unnecessary chatter?"
"Words are an art too, Yumeji. But anyway, hand it over. Let me take a look."
Hazuki took the music box from Yumeji's hands, turning it around and examining it carefully before nodding. "Not bad, but it still feels a bit plain like this."
He pulled open a drawer, taking out a small bottle of lacquer and a few paintbrushes.
"A bit of color—what do you think?"
Yumeji hesitated for a moment, but then he sat down and picked up a brush.
_______
They sat across from each other, carefully adding details to the music box. Hazuki seemed to have a good eye for colors—every stroke he painted was delicate and harmonious. Yumeji wasn't skilled at things like this, but he did his best.
After a long while, Hazuki suddenly spoke.
"Hey, Yumeji."
"Hm?"
"Do you think… if I were to leave too, would you feel sad?"
Yumeji's hands stopped moving, his eyes settling on Hazuki's face. He was smiling, but there was something… different about it.
"What are you plotting now?"
"Nothing, I'm just curious." Hazuki chuckled softly, a rare hint of contemplation in his gaze.
"You don't seem to like getting too attached to people, do you?"
Yumeji remained silent. He knew he wasn't the type to rely on others easily. Saya had left, his mother was too busy, and his father was nothing more than a shadow. He had long since grown used to standing on his own.
But Hazuki was different.
No matter how troublesome he was, he was always there, like a gentle breeze drifting in and out of Yumeji's life.
"…I don't know," Yumeji finally replied, his voice slightly hoarse.
"But if you really plan on disappearing, at least give me a heads-up."
Hazuki blinked, then laughed.
"Don't worry, I'm not going anywhere. At least, not yet."
---
Late into the night, the music box was finally complete.
Yumeji placed the crystal at the center of the lid. The moment the light hit it, it reflected a soft glow, shimmering like stars in the night sky.
He gently wound the key, and a slow melody began to play.
An old tune—one he had heard somewhere, a long time ago.
A vague memory surfaced—Saya sitting by the window, tapping her fingers lightly to the rhythm of an unknown song. When he was younger, he had secretly listened to her humming this tune, but he had never asked for its name.
And now, it had become the melody of the music box he had made with his own hands.
Yumeji sat there in silence for a moment before a faint smile unconsciously formed on his lips.
Perhaps… this was the perfect gift he could give to Saya.
---
Finally, the day of Saya's wedding arrived.
Yumeji stood in front of the mirror, adjusting his tie. The suit he wore wasn't particularly expensive, but it fit him well. He had never cared much about clothing, but today was special. No matter what, he wanted to present himself properly.
The small music box was neatly wrapped in a blue gift box—the color Saya liked. Holding it in his hands, Yumeji took a deep breath before stepping out of his room.
Hazuki was already waiting outside, dressed in an elegant suit that still carried his usual mischievous flair. He whistled when he saw Yumeji.
"Well, well, who do we have here? Yume-chan looking all dashing like this—it's a rare sight!"
Yumeji shot him a glare. "You talk too much."
Hazuki simply shrugged and chuckled.
"Come on, or we'll be late. Go, go, go, let's go!"
---
The ceremony took place in a small church with an antique architectural style. Rows of wooden pews were neatly arranged, while sunlight filtered through stained-glass windows, casting brilliant streaks of color onto the floor.
Saya stood at the front, dressed in a pure white wedding gown. The usual mischievous glint in her eyes was gone, replaced by a mature and gentle beauty. Even so, a sharpness still lingered in her gaze, as if she were secretly teasing someone.
When their eyes met, Saya raised an eyebrow. Yumeji immediately understood what she meant: Didn't expect my little brother to dress up properly for once, huh?
Then, she grinned and said,
"Oh, oh! If it isn't my little crybaby brother~ And wow, you've grown so much~~ Just two years ago, you were about the same height as little Hazuki, weren't you? Puberty really is scary!"
"Right, right! Saya-nee, you're absolutely right~ We grew up together, ate the same food, yet here I am, still this short while he shot up like a beanstalk! The heavens are truly unfair~"
Hazuki didn't miss a beat and chimed in, fanning the flames.
"But to be fair, all the food pretty much went into me, hihi~~"
Saya smirked. "So, Yumeji? Do you not want to give me a little sister-in-law?"
"I don't like chocolate," Yumeji replied flatly.
"Yes, yes! You don't know, Saya-nee, but this guy traded all his Valentine's chocolates for a bunch of jelly juice! Those poor girls who had a crush on him, tsk tsk~~"
Hazuki pretended to wipe away tears, but the amusement in his voice was clear.
"Jelly juice again, Yumeji? You drink that stuff more than you eat actual meals."
Yumeji didn't bother replying. He simply shook his head, knowing that if he said anything more, he'd only be giving these two troublemakers more ammunition. Quietly, he took a seat.
The ceremony proceeded with solemnity.
When it came time for the ring exchange, Yumeji felt a strange sensation creeping into his chest.
This was the first time he had ever seen Saya look so genuinely happy. But at the same time, it meant—
She had truly stepped into a new life.
She was no longer the older sister who always took care of him. No longer the one who would suddenly show up, shove a lunchbox into his hands, and say, "Eat up, you bookworm."
After today, Saya would officially become part of another family.
Yumeji clenched the gift box in his hands, a faint emptiness spreading through his chest.
---
After the ceremony, amidst the congratulatory voices and cheerful laughter, Yumeji finally found a chance to approach Saya.
"Little brat, here to congratulate me?" Saya crossed her arms, eyes gleaming with playful intent.
Yumeji didn't respond. Instead, he simply held out the gift box.
Saya blinked in surprise before breaking into a laugh.
"Oh? My little brother actually knows how to give gifts?"
"If you don't want it, forget it." Yumeji muttered, about to pull his hand back, but Saya swiftly snatched it from him.
She opened the box, her expression flickering slightly when she saw the music box inside. Her fingers ran over the smooth wooden surface before she gently turned the key.
A soft melody played.
Saya froze for a moment.
It was a while before she looked up again, her eyes holding a subtle, unreadable light.
"You… remember this melody?"
Yumeji crossed his arms.
"Not exactly. I just happened to recall it."
Saya chuckled, but this time, there was no teasing in her voice. She looked at him for a long moment before reaching out to ruffle his hair—just like she always did when they were younger.
"…Thanks, Satsuki."
Yumeji stiffened slightly.
For the first time in years, he heard Saya call his name and thank him—genuinely, from the heart.
****
That night, when he returned to his apartment, Yumeji stood silently by the window, looking out at the quiet night.
His life would not change immediately. Tomorrow, he would still have to work part-time, still have to worry about money, still have to face his drunken father alone.
But even so, a part of his heart felt lighter.
He had given away the last gift, and received something in return.
A little warmth.
A little comfort.
A melody that echoed in his heart, whether sad or happy, would continue to play—
Under the vast sky, amidst the gentle winds.