[Naoki Aiba POV]
"The wound itself has already closed up."
During the examination before my discharge, the doctor told me this while inspecting my right shoulder.
My mother was in the examination room with me.
Sitting beside me, she listened to the doctor's explanation while glancing down at the documents she had been handed. Given her line of work, there were probably many terms she was used to hearing. Her expression remained composed, but the moment the protective dressing over the wound was peeled away, her fingers tightened slightly around the paper.
I turned my eyes toward the mirror standing next to the treatment table.
From my right shoulder down to my upper arm, an irregular patch of newly formed, red skin spread across the surface. Most of it was covered in a thin layer of new skin, but in some places, the color was noticeably darker, making it obvious at a glance that it had not fully healed yet.
Just moving my arm slightly sent a taut, pulling ache deep through the tissue.
This was the first time I had looked straight at the injury hidden beneath the bandages.
Up until now, I had caught glimpses of parts of it during treatments, but I never had the composure to take in the entire shape running from shoulder to arm. Back when the pain was at its worst, my whole body would stiffen just from having the bandages taken off.
"However, there is a possibility that scars will remain where the damage was deepest. As for the discoloration, I expect it to fade over time, but I cannot guarantee it will ever return completely to how it was before."
"Will he be able to move his arm normally?" my mother asked.
"His recovery is progressing well. As long as he avoids overexertion and continues to do mobility exercises within the instructed range, it's unlikely to cause major hindrances in daily life. That said, if he keeps his shoulder still just to avoid the pain or tightness, his range of motion could permanently narrow."
Listening to the explanation, I lifted my right arm a fraction.
The skin on the inner curve of my shoulder pulled taut, followed a beat later by a dull throb of pain. It wasn't unbearable enough to make me grimace, but I was nowhere near ready to stretch my arm overhead.
"What kind of care should we continue at home?"
"Please apply this ointment twice a day. He must avoid rubbing the wound, and take care to protect it from direct sunlight and friction from clothing. If the pain worsens or you notice any changes in the skin's condition, contact the hospital right away."
With every instruction the doctor gave, my mother jotted down the key points in the margins of the papers.
"What about bathing?"
"Please stick to showers for the time being. A nurse will go over the detailed care routine with you once more before you leave."
"He's planning to return to school starting tomorrow."
"Going to class itself is fine. However, please excuse him from P.E. and any tasks that involve carrying heavy loads for a while. He also needs to be careful not to bump his right shoulder in crowded spaces."
The doctor shifted his gaze toward me.
"Just because you are being discharged does not mean your treatment is finished. Do not push yourself. If you feel pain or fatigue, rest immediately."
"I understand."
"I'm emphasizing this because the people who give that answer are usually the ones who overdo it."
Addressed in such a calm, even tone, I had no comeback.
Beside me, my mother gave a small nod of agreement.
"The doctor is absolutely right."
"You don't need to pile on, Mom."
"I'm only saying it because I can't trust your 'I'm fine.'"
Though she retorted, her voice lacked its usual sharpness.
Her eyes were still fixed on my right shoulder.
Staring at the taut, red skin, an emotion completely detached from her professional composure as a healthcare worker seeped into her gaze.
After receiving our final precautions from the doctor, I had the wound dressed with fresh protective gauze.
Once we stepped out of the examination room, my mother walked down the corridor in silence for a while.
"Mom?"
"What?"
"Nothing, just... you're quiet."
"I was just sorting out what the doctor said in my head."
After answering, she stopped in her tracks.
"Naoki."
"What is it?"
"You aren't thinking that as long as Mikage-san was saved, it doesn't matter if you're left with scars, are you?"
Having my inner thoughts laid bare, the words caught in my throat.
"It's written all over your face."
"It's not like I went that far—"
"I'm not telling you to regret saving someone. But don't you dare think it doesn't matter what happens to your own body."
Her voice was quiet.
Rather than a lecture, it sounded almost like she was trying to convince herself.
"Don't think Mikage-san is the only one who will hurt when looking at that scar."
Saying only that, she turned and started walking toward the room again.
Following her back as she walked ahead of me, I remembered how tightly her fingers had clenched the paper the moment she saw the burn.
To me, the wound felt like proof that Mikage was alive.
To my mother, though, it was a visible, undeniable reminder that her son had almost never come home.
When we returned to the room, Koharu was waiting by the window.
Not having seen the wound for herself yet, Koharu noticed Mom and me coming back and cast an inquiring look our way.
"What did they say?"
"That I can be discharged as planned."
"That's it?"
"Just not to push myself."
"There's no way that's all."
"Just stuff like keeping up with the wound care and sitting out of P.E."
"What about scars?"
Caught off guard by the sudden question, my reply lagged for a beat.
Koharu's eyes narrowed.
"Will they stay?"
"They don't know yet. They said it should fade, though."
"So they might stay."
"It's just a possibility."
I tried to keep my tone as light as possible, but Koharu's expression didn't brighten.
Even when she came to visit me, the injury had always been concealed under bandages and clothes. Koharu still had no idea how extensive the burn really was.
If we could get by without her ever finding out, I thought that would be for the best.
Seeing the wound wouldn't change anything for Koharu. If it was only going to make her worry needlessly, keeping it hidden until the treatment was done was the better choice.
"Naoki, are you going to wear that?"
My mother glanced at the long-sleeved shirt sitting on the bed.
"It's hot outside, you know."
"They said it's better to keep the wound out of direct sunlight."
"You could just throw a light jacket over a short-sleeved shirt."
"Putting my arms through sleeves multiple times is more of a pain. Just this one is fine."
It was a shirt made of soft fabric that Mom had brought from home, different from what I'd been wearing before being admitted.
I slid my left arm through the sleeve, then carefully guided my right arm inside.
Even though I tried to keep my shoulder as still as possible, the moment the fabric brushed against the raw skin, my breath hitched involuntarily.
"Does it hurt?"
Koharu caught it instantly.
"It just caught a little."
"See? It does hurt."
"I never said there was no pain at all."
"Phrasing it like that is unfair."
"How is it unfair?"
"Saying you're fine, and then backtracking to say it only hurt a little."
I had done the exact same thing over and over in the middle of the fire.
Every time Mikage worried about my burn, I told her it only hurt a tiny bit. In reality, a searing pain tore down from my right shoulder to my arm, making it hard to even summon enough strength to move.
Back then, I couldn't afford to be honest.
If the guy carrying her on his back admitted his arm had given out, Mikage would have been paralyzed with terror.
"Right now, it really doesn't hurt nearly as much as before."
"Even if you say 'as much as before,' I don't know how bad it was to begin with."
"Koharu."
My mother spoke her name with a gentle reprimand.
Koharu pressed her lips together in frustration, but she didn't press the matter any further.
We gathered my things and checked to make sure nothing was left behind.
Once our personal belongings were packed away, the hospital room where I had spent over a week felt shockingly empty.
The desk beside the bed.
The white ceiling I had stared at for hours.
The drone of cicadas that had buzzed relentlessly outside the window.
The days that had dragged on endlessly right after being admitted suddenly felt like a brief dream severed from reality now that discharge day had arrived.
"Shall we go?"
Prompted by my mother, I stepped out of the room.
Walking was completely fine. My balance felt slightly off because I was subconsciously favoring my right shoulder, but being able to walk down the hallway on my own two feet was more than enough.
We took the elevator down, settled the bill, and completed the discharge paperwork.
The instant the automatic doors at the main entrance slid open, the full blast of summer heat washed over me.
"Ugh, so hot..."
The complaint slipped out before I could stop it.
Having grown used to the hospital's climate-controlled air, the sunlight felt far harsher than I remembered. I was already starting to regret picking the long-sleeved shirt.
"That's why I told you a light jacket would have been better," my mother said with a sigh.
"I'm already wearing it, so whatever."
"Onii-chan, won't sweating make your wound sting?"
"Both of you have been worrying way too much."
"Whose fault do you think that is?" Koharu snapped back instantly.
Heading toward the parking lot, I let out a soft breath.
The reality that I had actually been discharged sank in far more while listening to the two of them nagging me than it had when leaving the hospital room.
In the car on the way home, my mother and Koharu repeated the exact same instructions over and over.
Go straight to the nurse's office if I started feeling sick at school.
Don't carry heavy textbooks or bags using only my right arm.
Be careful not to bump into people on the stairs or in crowded halls.
"I got it, really."
"Anyone can say the words."
"Yeah, exactly. Onii-chan's 'I got it' is completely worthless."
"Whose side are you even on?"
"Mom's."
"Not a shred of hesitation, huh."
Trading barbs like that, we eventually turned into our familiar neighborhood.
The car pulled up in front of the house.
As the front door opened, the scent of home—so distinct from the sterile air of the hospital—drifted out to greet us.
Laundry detergent, wooden shelves, and the faint, lingering aroma of coffee Mom had brewed that morning. Smells I would never usually give a second thought to felt strangely nostalgic today.
"I'm home."
After saying it aloud, I realized the people who would normally reply had walked in right behind me.
Even so, my mother answered warmly to my back.
"Welcome home."
Stepping into the entryway a second later, Koharu slipped off her shoes and quietly added, "...Welcome home."
"Yeah."
Just that brief exchange was enough to bring a faint warmth to my chest.
I went up to my room.
On the desk lay the textbooks and half-read book sitting exactly where I had left them before the hospitalization. The bedding was neatly smoothed out, without a single speck of dust in sight.
While I was away, Mom or Koharu must have cleaned the room for me.
Opening the window, the chorus of cicadas surged into the room all at once.
It was supposed to be the exact same sound I had heard through the hospital glass, yet the way it resonated in the air felt entirely different.
I'm finally back.
The moment that realization settled in and I sank onto the edge of the bed, the fatigue coiled deep in my body washed over me in a single wave.
Intending to lie down for just a few minutes, I rested my head on the pillow and must have passed out instantly.
When I opened my eyes, the light pouring through the window had deepened into a rich orange.
A glance at the clock showed that nearly two hours had passed.
"Wiped out before I've even set foot in school...?"
Pushing myself up sent a twinge of pain through my right shoulder, making me wince.
Just being discharged didn't magically restore my stamina.
On my very first day back, I was forced to realize firsthand why the doctor and Mom had driven that point home so many times.
After finishing dinner, I took a quick shower, just as the doctor had allowed.
Being careful not to scrub the burn, I washed myself, returned to my room, and was about to change into a fresh protective dressing when I ran into a problem.
I couldn't reach the back of my right shoulder properly.
At the hospital, the nurses had handled the dressing changes. At home, I could simply ask Mom, but I could hear her on the phone in the kitchen.
Judging by the tone, it was a work call that wasn't going to wrap up anytime soon.
Propping a mirror on the desk, I lined up the position of the wound and reached for the ointment with my left hand.
The moment I twisted my arm to try to handle it myself, the skin on my shoulder seized up with a sharp, violent pull.
"Ngh...!"
Holding my breath, I froze in place.
Right then, two light knocks came at the door.
"Onii-chan, your towel—"
Before I could answer, Koharu pushed the door open.
She was holding a towel I must have left behind in the washroom.
I hadn't put my arms through my shirt yet, leaving my entire upper body bare.
Koharu's eyes locked directly onto my exposed right shoulder.
Her face froze.
"...That."
Her voice trembled faintly.
"Don't just barge in."
Reflexively turning my back to her, I reached for the shirt resting nearby.
"Wait."
"I'm going to have Mom put the ointment on, so just get out—"
"Wait!"
Her voice cracked with a sudden intensity that made me stop.
Looking back, Koharu was still rooted to the spot by the doorway.
Staring at the wound running from my shoulder down my arm, every trace of color had drained from her face.
"At the hospital, it was bandaged the whole time, so..."
"It's not like it's something to show off anyway."
"I never heard that it was this huge."
"I just didn't see the point in going out of my way to bring it up."
"There is a point!"
Koharu took a single, hesitant step forward.
She began to lift a hand as if to touch it, only to freeze halfway.
"Did Mom see this?"
"During the checkup today."
"So I'm the only one who didn't know."
"I wasn't trying to hide it. There just wasn't a good time to show you."
"Isn't that the exact definition of hiding it?"
I had no defense for that.
Staring fixedly at the burn, Koharu timidly brought her hand closer.
"Does it hurt if I touch it?"
"You probably shouldn't touch the wound itself yet."
"Then... what about here?"
Her fingertip pointed toward the edge of my back where the skin was untouched.
"That's fine."
At my answer, Koharu avoided the inflamed, red patches and gently rested her hand against the healthy skin.
Her cool fingertips pressed lightly into my back.
"Did it hurt?"
"Right now, not so much."
"Not right now—during the fire."
I couldn't bring myself to answer right away.
Trying to brush it off by saying it didn't hurt would be pointless when the evidence was laid out right in front of her.
"...Yeah, it hurt," I answered honestly. "When the ceiling caved in, I didn't even realize what had happened. Then the heat hit me all at once, and it took everything I had just to put strength into my right arm."
"Even with that, you carried that person on your back?"
"Yeah."
"Why didn't you put them down?"
"Because if I let go, she wouldn't have been able to walk."
Koharu's fingertips trembled against my skin.
"This... it might never go away, right?"
"They said it would fade."
"But it might not disappear completely, right?"
"...Yeah."
When I admitted it, Koharu bit her lip hard.
Tears welled up in her wide eyes before spilling down her cheeks.
"Don't cry."
"I'm not crying."
"You definitely are."
"Because you... you never just talk to me properly, Onii-chan!"
Koharu scrubbed roughly at her eyes with the sleeve of her loungewear.
Even so, the tears kept coming, fresh drops tracking down her cheeks the moment she wiped them away.
"At the hospital, all I could think about was how glad I was that you came back. You were alive, we were talking, and I thought you'd be all better soon. But to see this..."
"It's still healing."
"That's not... what I mean!"
Staring at the angry red skin, Koharu forced the words through her choked throat.
"Seeing this is the first time it really hit me... that you actually came out of that fire alive."
Hearing that, I was left completely speechless.
To me, this burn was inextricably linked to the memory of pulling Mikage out of the blaze.
It was proof that she was alive.
It was the reason I didn't have to regret running back into that building.
To Koharu, though, it was something entirely different.
It was a scar that forced her to confront the terrifying reality that her older brother had nearly died.
"Onii-chan."
"What?"
"Even if that scar stays with you forever... are you still glad you saved them?"
"Yeah."
That was the one thing I could answer without a second of hesitation.
"Because she's alive. If it only cost me this much, I'm glad I went back for her."
Koharu cast her gaze downward.
"However," I continued, and her tear-streaked face lifted. "I don't think it was right of me to make Mom and you cry like that."
"...Really?"
"Yeah. At the time, all I could think about was the person trapped inside. I didn't stop to think about what would happen if I never came back."
I looked down at the wound on my right shoulder.
"I don't regret saving someone. But almost dying in the process isn't something to be proud of. I get that now."
"What about next time?"
"It'd be better if there isn't a next time."
"What if... what if something like that happens again?"
I had been asked a similar question back at the hospital.
Telling her I would never put myself in danger again might give her peace of mind right now.
Yet if I were standing in front of someone crying out for help, I honestly didn't know what I would do.
That was why I refused to make a promise I couldn't guarantee.
"Next time, I won't just think about how to save them. I'll make sure I figure out how to make it back alive, too."
"Promise?"
"As best as I can."
"Say you promise!"
"Isn't that better than lying to you?"
"No, it's not."
After giving that resentful retort, Koharu wiped her eyes once more.
"Still... it's better than before."
"Tough crowd."
"Because you're always making me worry!"
"My bad."
"Do you really mean that?"
"I do."
"Then tomorrow, if it hurts even a tiny bit, you go to the nurse's office immediately."
"Got it."
"Don't carry heavy things."
"Understood."
"Sit out of P.E., too."
"The doctor told me that one, too."
"And on the way home, don't walk back by yourself."
"Now you're treating me like a toddler."
"You can just walk home with me, can't you?"
"We're in different grades. Our classes end at different times."
"Then I'll wait."
"You don't need to go that far."
"I am going that far."
It seemed this overprotectiveness wasn't going away anytime soon, no matter what I said.
Koharu's fingers finally pulled away from my back.
Instead, she caught the edge of my left sleeve in a gentle tug.
The gesture instantly brought back the memory of Mikage reaching out to me inside the smoke.
A girl terrified of being touched had reached out on her own and gripped my sleeve with all her strength.
Don't leave me behind.
A hoarse voice, and trembling fingers.
"Koharu."
"What?"
"Go get Mom for me. It's too awkward to put the ointment on by myself."
"You should have just said so from the start."
"I thought I could manage."
"See? You really are overdoing it."
"This barely counts as pushing myself."
"Yes, it does."
Releasing my sleeve, Koharu turned and headed for the door.
Just before stepping out of the room, she looked back over her shoulder.
"Are you going to see the person you saved tomorrow?"
My pulse gave a distinct thud.
I hadn't told Koharu that person's name, or even that she was a girl.
"I think so."
"At school?"
Caught off guard by the deduction, my response lagged.
"You're going back to school tomorrow, right? I just figured that's where you'd see them."
She had pieced it together simply from my schedule.
I had never mentioned that we went to the same school, but there was no reason to awkwardly deny it now.
"...Probably."
"I see. So, are you going to tell them your name properly this time?"
"Yeah."
That was the plan.
I had no idea if Mikage even remembered me.
I didn't know if she still intended to keep the promise we made in the middle of that fire, either.
Even so, I hadn't forgotten.
When I go back to school tomorrow, I'll track down Mikage.
I'll apologize for not being able to give her my name back then, and tell her that I was the one who went in to get her.
And after that, I can ask if she still remembers our promise to get crepes.
"I see," Koharu said, nodding with a slight look of relief. "Then I think you should show that person your scar, too."
"Why would I do that?"
"Because they need to know how reckless you were, Onii-chan."
"That's just going to make her feel unnecessarily guilty."
"Maybe, but I think pretending everything is completely fine and hiding it is wrong, too."
Before I could find an answer to that, Koharu slipped out and disappeared down the hall.
What kind of face would Mikage make if she saw this wound?
Back then, she kept apologizing over and over, blaming herself for everything. If she found out that scars might stay with me for life, she would only carry an even heavier burden of guilt.
If I had the choice, I'd rather never show her.
Yet even if I kept it hidden under long sleeves, wouldn't there come a day when she found out anyway?
I looked down at my right shoulder.
A burn that might never fade.
A promise that had yet to be fulfilled.
Carrying both, I would go to meet Mikage tomorrow.