On the afternoon of the first day of the new semester, the sunlight pouring through the hospital window was just as relentless as it had been during summer break.
Even inside the air-conditioned room, the cicadas shrilling outside made it obvious that the midsummer heat still had a firm grip on the world. Out on the school grounds, students who had just finished the opening ceremony were probably catching up with friends they hadn't seen in weeks, trading stories about their vacations.
Propped up slightly in bed, I cast my eyes down at the handouts spread across my blanket.
It had been a week since I was admitted.
The inflammation in my throat had subsided considerably, leaving my voice only slightly hoarse. The nasal cannula supplying oxygen had already been taken off, and my IV drip had finished yesterday.
Only the thick bandages winding from my right shoulder down to my upper arm remained virtually unchanged from day one. The burn itself was reportedly healing well, but any careless movement sent a sharp, pulling ache deep beneath my skin.
My discharge was currently up in the air; the doctors wanted to wait a few more days before making a call.
Though I hadn't made it in time for the start of the term, there was a good chance I could return to school by the middle of next week. The message from my homeroom teacher had told me not to rush and to focus on recovering.
I knew I should just take those words to heart.
Yet every time I imagined going back, one particular girl from that same school building came to mind.
Serina Mikage.
According to what my mother had heard from the hospital staff, Mikage had been discharged earlier than me. The injury to her right leg apparently wasn't severe enough to cause issues, so long as she avoided strenuous exercise for a while.
Because of privacy regulations, they couldn't give us any more details. Still, with the new term starting today, it was entirely possible she was already back in class.
What was she doing right now?
Had she reunited with her friends, laughing like she always did? Or was the terror of that day still lingering, dragging back the smell of smoke and the blare of the fire alarm?
No amount of pondering would give me an answer.
Just as I reached for the smartphone on the bedside table, two polite knocks sounded at the door.
"Come in."
When I answered in my still-raspy voice, the door swung open slowly.
Peeking through the gap was a girl wearing our high school's summer uniform.
"Can I come in?"
"You're already in."
"Just asking to be polite."
The girl stepping into the room was my younger sister, Koharu Aiba.
Her shoulder-length, dark brown hair was styled a bit more neatly than usual. The large eyes under her bangs carried a soft warmth inherited from our mother, but the sharp shape of her corners looked just like mine.
She was petite even for her age, making the school bag slung over her shoulder look comically oversized against her frame.
At home, she usually wandered around in loungewear with her hair thrown into a messy bun, so seeing her in uniform made her seem a little more grown-up.
That said, the way she stood near the entrance sizing me up was unmistakably the same old Koharu.
"What is it?"
"Nothing. Just checking to make sure you're awake."
"You can see that without asking."
"You sounded fine on the phone, but that's different from seeing you in person."
Stepping all the way in, Koharu hung her bag over the back of an empty chair. In her other hand, she held a plastic convenience store bag and a clear file folder.
"Where's Mom?"
"Work. She said she'd be late today, so I came ahead."
"You came all the way here straight from school?"
"It's in the same city—it's not that far. Besides, I had to bring you some stuff from your homeroom teacher."
Koharu laid the clear folder on the table.
Inside was a schedule distributed during the opening ceremony, notices about class changes, and several assignments.
"You're a freshman. Did you actually go up to the sophomore classrooms to get these?"
"The teacher called me to the staff room. Since the school knows you're in the hospital, he said handing them to your sister would be the fastest way."
"Sorry about that."
"You should be. Getting called down by a sophomore teacher on the very first day of school made me think I was in trouble."
Though she sounded annoyed, she wasn't truly angry.
Before sitting down, Koharu lingered by the bed, staring at my right shoulder.
Perhaps coming straight from school in her uniform had put her slightly on edge. Her gaze drifted from the bandages covering my shoulder to the brace, and her expression gradually clouded over.
"Does it still hurt?"
"Not that bad, as long as I keep it still."
"How bad is 'not that bad'?"
"Hard to explain."
"So it does hurt."
"It's way better than it was at first."
I tried to reassure her, but she didn't seem convinced. Furrowing her brow slightly, she studied my shoulder a moment longer before finally taking a seat.
From the convenience store bag, she pulled out a bottle of water and a small pouch of drinkable jelly, setting them neatly on the table.
"A care package."
"They sell those in the lobby shop, you know."
"I know. Mom told me to pick something up on the way."
"Did Mom choose them?"
"I did. Solid food would be hard for you to swallow right now, wouldn't it?"
My throat had improved enough that I could manage regular meals, but it was sweet of her to put that much thought into it.
"Thanks."
"...Sure."
Her reply was clipped.
Keeping her eyes glued to the table, Koharu fussed with the water bottle, adjusting its position over and over. Normally, if I thanked her, she'd shoot back with something like "Gross," but today she was uncharacteristically quiet.
"...How was school?"
I asked, trying to break the heavy mood.
"Normal. The opening ceremony dragged on forever, and the principal's speech put me to sleep."
"You fell asleep on day one?"
"I didn't sleep. I just almost fell asleep."
"Same thing."
"Not even close."
A glimmer of her usual spark returned.
Pouting her cheeks, Koharu quickly let her expression soften.
"Looks like your class had a seating rearrangement, by the way."
"How do you know that?"
"Your teacher told me. He said he'll assign you your seat when you get back, so you should just focus on resting instead of worrying about minor details."
"He sure gave you a lot of information considering I never asked."
"Mom probably told him you're doing nothing but stressing about school from your hospital bed."
I couldn't argue with that.
Ever since finding out classes were starting while I was still admitted, I'd asked Mom about textbooks and homework several times. It wasn't surprising that word had gotten around to my teacher.
"Your friends have been texting you, right?"
"Yeah. Once school let out, they even sent me the new seating chart."
"See? You're fine. Missing a couple of days isn't going to make you repeat the grade."
"I know."
"Doesn't look like it."
Koharu sighed, thoroughly exasperated.
We fell into idle chatter for a while.
About the new class schedules.
About how the homeroom teacher announced a pop quiz right after the break, triggering groans across the entire classroom.
About how her class was already assigning committee roles for the cultural festival.
Trapped between the hospital walls with only memories of home, hearing about school made it feel like a distant world. Yet, it also reminded me that the ordinary life I took for granted was just within arm's reach.
Just a few more days.
Once the doctor gave the green light, I could step back into that world.
Even as Koharu talked, my mind drifted toward Mikage.
Since we went to the same school, asking Koharu might be the easiest way to find out if she had shown up today.
Then again, being in a different grade, there was no guarantee Koharu would have crossed paths with her. More importantly, if an older brother who never talked about girls suddenly asked about a specific upperclassman, it would raise immediate red flags.
In the end, I kept her name to myself.
"—By the way."
The casual ease vanished from Koharu's voice.
"You only went to that mall because I asked you to buy that notebook, didn't you?"
Koharu laced her fingers in her lap, looking down at her hands.
"Mom asked me to run errands too, you know."
"Yeah, but if I hadn't asked for the notebook, you might not have gone to that floor."
I couldn't deny it outright.
She was right.
If she hadn't asked for it, I wouldn't have stepped onto the stationery floor, and I might never have seen Mikage and her friends in front of the clothing boutique.
It was only because I'd seen Mikage with three other girls that I noticed she was the only one missing among the evacuees outside.
"Maybe," I admitted softly.
Koharu's shoulders gave a small tremor.
"Then it really is my—"
"No."
I cut her off firmly.
"Maybe asking for that notebook was why I realized someone was trapped. But going back into that building, knowing how dangerous it was? That was entirely my choice."
"Still..."
"You just asked for a notebook, Koharu. There was no way you could have known a fire would break out, or that I'd run back inside. You don't have to carry the blame for my injuries."
Koharu bit her lower lip, keeping her head down in silence.
"Honestly, if you hadn't asked, I might not have noticed anyone was left behind at all."
"That's..."
"So don't beat yourself up over asking for a notebook."
Feeling the dull throb deep inside my right shoulder, I pressed on.
"I'm glad you asked me."
"...Because you were able to save someone?"
"Yeah."
Koharu's grip on her hands loosened just a fraction.
Even so, the worry didn't leave her face as she slowly lifted her eyes to meet mine.
"I was terrified, you know."
"I'm sorry."
Wiping her eyes with the sleeve of her uniform, Koharu pulled in a shaky breath.
"You weren't picking up your phone, the news was showing the mall completely on fire, and Mom wouldn't tell me anything... When I heard you'd been rushed to the hospital, I didn't know what to think."
"I'm sorry."
"That's all you ever say."
"What else can I say?"
"Say you won't do it again."
The words caught in my throat.
Diving into a blazing building to play the hero wasn't something I should ever repeat. Mom had told me the exact same thing, and I understood it rationally.
Yet, when I tried to promise I would never do it, the words refused to come out.
If I were thrown back into that exact same scenario, what would I do?
Knowing someone was trapped and calling for help, could I really just walk away next time?
I still didn't have an answer.
"Don't just clam up on me."
"I won't do the same thing."
I chose my words with utmost care.
"Next time, I won't just act recklessly on my own. I'll get proper help and figure out a way that ensures I come back safely too."
"You promise?"
"I'll do everything I can."
"That's where you're supposed to say 'I promise'!"
"It's better than making a promise I might break, isn't it?"
Koharu pouted, clearly unsatisfied.
Still, even if she didn't fully agree, she seemed willing to accept the compromise. She unclasped her hands, resting them flat on her lap.
"The person you saved... they're okay, right?"
"Yeah."
"Have you seen them?"
"Not yet."
"Why not?"
"They were taken to a different hospital."
I didn't mention her name, her school, or even the fact that Mikage was a girl.
It wasn't that I felt a need to keep secrets from Koharu. It just felt wrong to discuss her with my family before I'd even properly introduced myself to her.
"Does that person know who you are?"
"I don't think they know my face or my name."
"Huh?"
Koharu's eyes went wide.
"Even though you saved their life?"
"The smoke was too thick to see clearly. Besides, I was planning on telling them my name once we got out."
"And then you passed out right after escaping, right?"
"Yeah."
"Then aren't they probably looking for you?"
The thought had crossed my mind.
Right up to the end, Mikage had pleaded to know my name. She had made me promise over and over not to forget about getting crepes together.
But those were words spoken under the threat of impending death.
Now that she had been safely discharged and life had returned to normal, there was no telling if she still felt the same way.
"Did the police say anything?"
"I heard the other family wanted to express their gratitude."
"Then you should meet them."
"Apparently, they asked Mom if they could pass along my contact info."
A few days after the incident, Mom had told me about the inquiry from the police.
Mikage's family had reached out, wanting to thank her rescuer in person. But since I was a minor, personal details couldn't be shared without mutual consent from both parties and their guardians, so they had contacted Mom first.
"You didn't let her give it to them?"
"No."
"Why?"
At Koharu's question, I turned toward the window.
A clear, deep blue sky stretched across the horizon without a hint of autumn, thin clouds drifting lazily across it.
"Because I want to tell her myself."
"Can you even meet them?"
"Probably."
"What's 'probably' supposed to mean?"
I swallowed the words on the tip of my tongue.
If I explained that we went to the same school, Koharu would immediately ask for a name. If I said Serina Mikage, it would invite endless questions about one of the most well-known girls on campus.
I didn't need to invite that headache right now.
"I think I'll be able to see her once I'm out of the hospital."
"Even without her contact info?"
"I'll figure it out."
"Suspicious."
"It's not."
"You are definitely hiding something."
Koharu narrowed her eyes in blatant suspicion.
"Is the person a girl?"
"Why would you jump to that?"
"You just looked away."
"I was just looking out the window."
"You've looked outside whenever you're hiding something since we were kids."
"That's the first time I've ever heard that."
"Because I just decided it."
"That's completely made up."
Koharu scrutinized my face for a moment longer, but realizing I wasn't going to budge, she gave a resigned shrug.
"Well, whatever."
"Whatever?"
"As long as the person you saved is okay, that's what matters, right?"
"Yeah."
"Then just make sure you introduce yourself properly when you meet them."
I gave a faint nod.
That was the plan.
Once I was discharged and back at school, I would find Mikage.
I would apologize for not telling her my name in the middle of the fire, and tell her I was Naoki Aiba. Then, I'd ask if she still remembered our promise to get crepes.
If she'd forgotten, that was fine.
I had no intention of holding her to a promise made in such extreme circumstances. I just wanted her to know that I hadn't forgotten.
"By the way, what happened to the phone that was in my clothes?"
Remembering the device Mikage had dropped, I asked Koharu.
"The one that wasn't yours?"
"Yeah."
"Mom said the police returned it to the owner."
"I see."
If that phone was back in Mikage's hands, she had probably reconnected with her friends by now.
The photo of the four of them on the home screen floated into my mind.
Right before the fire started, Mikage had been laughing alongside them. Now I knew for sure that all of them were safe.
"Did you really go out of your way to pick up someone's phone?"
"It was lying in the corridor. It gave me a clue to track down the owner."
"And that's how you found them?"
"More or less."
Koharu fell silent, as if picturing the scene in her head, before wearing a troubled look.
"I really don't understand you sometimes."
"I can't fully explain it myself."
"Weren't you scared?"
"Of course I was."
I answered without missing a beat.
The fire, the smoke, the ceiling crashing down—all of it was terrifying.
There was more than one moment where I genuinely thought I was going to die. But as long as Mikage was on my back, I couldn't afford to let that fear into my voice.
"Then why did you go back?"
"I honestly don't know."
"You went back into a fire without even knowing why?"
"Before I knew it, I was already running back in."
To be fair, I had hesitated plenty of times.
I had searched for Mikage outside the police tape, talked to a firefighter, and was told to stay back because it was too dangerous. Yet in the end, I had crossed that line of my own volition.
If there was one reason, it was that I couldn't bear the thought of walking away and leaving Mikage behind.
Where that instinct had come from, though, was something I still couldn't explain.
The memory of my father's retreating back from my dream drifted through the back of my mind.
"You're weird," Koharu muttered.
"How?"
"If you're scared, you shouldn't go. But you went back without even knowing why, and you still haven't told the person you saved who you are. You've always been complicated in the most annoying ways."
"That doesn't sound like a compliment."
"It's not."
Finally, a genuine smile crept onto Koharu's lips.
The tension that had weighed on her since walking into the room seemed to dissolve just a little.
A glance at the wall clock told me visiting hours were nearly over.
"I should get going," Koharu said, standing up and slinging her bag over her shoulder.
"You okay heading home by yourself?"
"The station's right by the hospital, and the sun's still up. I'll be fine."
"Text me when you get home."
"I really don't need a lecture on safety from a hospitalized patient."
"That's completely different."
"Fine, fine. I'll text you."
Straightening the handouts on the table one last time, Koharu turned toward the door.
Watching her walk away, the dream flashed through my mind again.
A rainy night.
My father walking out through the front entrance.
And me, unable to chase after him, standing frozen before the closing door.
"Koharu."
When I called out, she paused with her hand on the handle and looked back.
"What?"
"I'll buy you that notebook once I'm out of here."
For a second, she looked utterly bewildered, before her brow furrowed into a deep scowl.
"I don't need it."
"You asked for it, didn't you?"
"I already bought a different one."
"What color?"
"Blue."
"Isn't that the exact same one I picked out?"
"Because it looked best when I saw the picture."
"Then I can just buy you another—"
"I said I don't need it!"
Koharu's voice turned sharp.
"I can buy a notebook whenever I want."
Standing by the door, she tightly gripped the fabric of her skirt.
"Even if you don't buy it for me, it's not a big deal. I can buy it myself, or I can ask Mom."
"Koharu?"
"But if you didn't come back, that would be a big deal."
Her words dropped heavily into the quiet hospital room.
"It would be awful, and I'd regret it for the rest of my life. So just... stop worrying about the stupid notebook."
Without waiting for a response, Koharu wrenched the door open.
Just before stepping out into the corridor, she turned back one last time.
"I'm just glad you came home."
Her soft eyes glistened with unshed tears.
Offering a faint, fleeting smile to hide them, Koharu finally stepped out of the room.
Even after the door clicked shut, her words echoed in my chest.
—I'm just glad you came home.
In my dream, my father had never returned to the place where he would hear those words.
Mom and Koharu had been terrified that I would vanish just like him.
I didn't think wanting to save someone was wrong. Nor did I regret pulling Mikage out of that building.
However, the reckless notion that it didn't matter what happened to me as long as she survived—that could never be justified.
There were people waiting for me to come home.
If I forgot that, then perhaps I had never truly saved anyone at all.
Outside the window, the sinking sun bathed the hospital exterior in a warm, dusky orange.
I reached for the handouts Koharu had left behind, staring at the date printed for the opening ceremony.
School was already in session.
Mikage was surely trying to settle back into her daily routine as well.
Once I'm discharged, I'll go see her.
This time, I would give her my name and tell her I remembered our promise. I didn't want the words we traded in the middle of those flames to simply end there.
Naoki Aiba.
That was the name Mikage had wanted to know.
I had no idea how she would react when she heard it.
Even so, at that moment, I had no doubt that once I returned to school, I would be able to see that promise through.