Gray Wings No Longer Needed ~I'll Protect Your Tomorrow~ - The final retrograde

The taste of mud. Late Saturday night. Kanata collapsed at his own front door. No strength left to take off his shoes. He pressed his cheek against the hallway tile. Cold. Feels good. If only he could sleep like this— (No.) He crawled. Hooking his fingers, inching forward. He couldn't see. Right eye, total darkness. Left eye, only faint shadows. The kitchen light, a hazy blur. His mother's voice, distant. "...Yes, the fever still hasn't gone down." On the phone. Talking to his father, away on a solo assignment. Kanata reached for the fridge. His fingers hit the door handle. Cold steel. He pulled himself up, sliding against it. His knees trembled. (Yui.) Sakura's voice still clung to his ears. *"Goodbye, Kanata-kun."* That shrill laugh. Echoing through the abandoned factory. (Tomorrow, with a truck.) He pulled a plastic bottle from the fridge. Twisted the cap. No strength in his fingers. He pried it open with his teeth. The water burned his throat. (She said she'd kill her.) The bottle slipped from his hand. Water spread across the floor. Kanata sat down right there. Wet tile. Cold. "...Not yet." His voice, hoarse. "It's not over yet." He clenched his fist. Skin split. Blood seeped out. But he felt no pain. Something else burned deep in his chest. Anger. Fear. And—shame. (I was going to punch her lights out.) (A complete whiff.) (I couldn't even reach her.) He gritted his teeth. Tears fell, one after another. Mud and blood and tears mixed, staining the floor. (Is this really the time to cry?) He stood up. Hand against the wall, staggering. Took off his shoes. Stripped off his mud-caked school uniform. Headed for the bath. Turned the shower. Cold water poured over his head. The mud washed away. White hair tangled in the drain. (Tomorrow.) (If I go back one more time—) He looked in the mirror. In his blurred vision, an old man with white hair stared back. No trace left of the seventeen-year-old he once was. "I can save Yui." He told his reflection. ◇◇◇ Sunday morning. The doorbell rang. Kanata sat in a kitchen chair. Hadn't slept a wink. Behind his eyes, a burning heat. With his left eye, he barely managed to pick at some bread. Chewed. No taste. The doorbell, again. (Who is it?) He stood. Followed the wall down the hallway. Unlocked the front door. In that instant. Cold air. And—a floral scent, sharp in his nostrils. "...Tsukiko." Silver hair. Long, reaching her waist, shining almost white in the morning light. Beneath her blunt-cut bangs, her pale silver eyes trembled. With tears. She was already crying. Her expressionless, doll-like face crumpled. Her fingertips quivered faintly. "[crying]...Can I come in?" Her voice, shaking. Not her usual flat tone. "Yeah." Tsukiko stepped inside. She took Kanata's hand. Her ice-cold fingers touched his wrist. "[crying]Show me your phone." Kanata silently pulled his phone from his pocket. Tsukiko took it, placing it beside her own. She opened "Modorino Tokei." Kanata's screen. The icon of a sand timer spinning backwards. A countdown displayed. Remaining—1. Tsukiko showed Kanata her own phone. The same screen. But her app had another number. *Remaining Leaps: 1* *Estimated Lifespan Consumption Rate: Next use 100%* Kanata's throat made a dry swallow. "[crying]You understand, right?" Tsukiko's voice trembled. "[crying]If you leap again, your lifespan hits zero. Your body will completely break down. You won't come back. You'll vanish." Kanata stared at the screen. Remaining: 1. Lifespan: 100%. "...I see." "[crying]So please, stop." She squeezed his hand tight. "[crying]I'm begging you. Don't die." Her tears fell onto the back of his hand. Hot. From those ice-cold fingertips, hot tears spilled. Kanata looked at those tears. (This girl.) (All this time, alone.) (She's been watching the future.) A sharp pain tightened in his chest. But. "...If that means Yui gets saved." Kanata smiled. "Then I'll die happy." Tsukiko's face crumpled. "[crying]That's not okay." Her voice cracked. "[crying]It's not okay!!" She screamed. The girl who had been an emotionless doll raised her voice for the first time. Her shoulders shook. She sobbed like a child. Kanata squeezed her hand back. "[gentle]...Hey, Tsukiko." He asked, quietly. "Why do you care about me so much?" Tsukiko's shoulders flinched. "You've just been watching the future all this time, right? So why try to stop me? Why cry?" Tsukiko looked down. Her silver hair cascaded softly. Silence. Only the clock's second hand ticked away. Finally—she opened her mouth. "[crying]...Seven years ago." Her voice was barely a whisper. "[crying]Autumn of my first year in middle school. I had a best friend. Her name was—Mio. She was cheerful, kind, always by my side." Tsukiko's eyes looked far away. "[crying]We were walking home after school. Mio was about to cross the crosswalk first. That's when—I saw it. A car. Coming. Running a red light, barreling through. It would hit Mio." Her fingers trembled. "[crying]I tried to scream. Mio, wait. But—my voice wouldn't come out. Because I thought the future was fixed. That this was fate, unchangeable. That's what I believed." Tears fell, one by one. "[crying]The car hit Mio. Sent her flying, so easily, into the air. She slammed into the ground—and stopped moving. Her eyes were still open. Staring at me." Kanata held his breath. "[crying]Seven years since then. I've kept watching. Even when I see the future, I can't do anything. Can't change anything. I'm just an observer. Powerless, useless—I watched my best friend die right in front of me—and I couldn't do a thing." She covered her face. "[crying]So—when you appeared, I thought: This person is the same. Someone precious, stolen away by fate. But—" Her voice caught. "[crying]You never gave up. No matter how many times, you got hurt, beaten to a pulp—and still, you stood back up. You struggled to change the future." She raised her face. Her silver eyes, wet with tears, reflected the light. "[crying]I was jealous. Because it was something I could never do. So—I didn't want you to lose. I wanted you to—punch fate in the face and shatter it." Kanata looked steadily into Tsukiko's eyes. (She's been, all this time.) (Alone.) (Suffering.) He reached out his left hand. Gently, he held Tsukiko's hand. "[gentle]...Thank you." Tsukiko looked up. "[gentle]I made it this far because of you. You saw the future and warned me. Tried to stop me. That's—enough." Tears spilled from Tsukiko's eyes again. "[gentle]I promise. I'll save Yui. And—I'll come back." "[crying]...But." "[gentle]It's fine. It'll work out." His catchphrase. Tsukiko stared at Kanata's hand for a moment. Then squeezed it back, tight. "[whispers]...You'd better." A voice wrung dry. "Yeah." Kanata picked up his phone. The Modorino Tokei screen. Countdown. He swiped with his finger. 0. The world vanished. ◇◇◇ Consciousness returned. Darkness. Total darkness. Right eye, left eye. Not a single speck of light. Kanata sat on the floor of his room. Back from the fifth leap. Sunday morning. The time before the leap. (My eyes.) He brought his hand in front of his face. Can't see. Nothing. (Have I—completely lost them?) Panic. His heart pounded. His breathing grew shallow. (I can't see anything.) (What do I do?) (How do I save Yui—) —Then. A sound. From upstairs, his mother's voice. On the phone. Talking to his father. Outside, sparrows. Three of them, chirping. In the distance, the water of the Asase River. A gentle murmur, flowing over stones. (I can hear.) Kanata slowly exhaled. (My ears—are sharpened.) In exchange for his sight, his hearing had become abnormally acute. He stood. Hand against the wall. One step. The cold of the wall. Two steps. His fingers touched the corner of his study desk. Memory drew a map of the room. Bed on the left. Bookshelf on the right. Window straight ahead. He stood in front of the closet. Slid the door open. The smell of old wood. He thrust his hand into the bottom drawer. Towels, old textbooks, and—the cold touch of metal. A white cane. His grandfather had left it behind when he moved away, back in elementary school. Foldable, made of thin aluminum. *Click.* He extended the cane. Tapped the floor. *Tap.* The sound came back. He could tell the size of the room by the echo. "...I can do this." Kanata gave a small laugh. (Even if I can't see, there's sound.) (There's smell.) (There's touch.) He took out his phone. Started a voice memo. The text-to-speech function read the screen aloud. He drilled the information he'd gotten from Tsukiko into his head. "Sakura's behavior pattern. 7:40 AM. Midori Bridge West Intersection. Signal cycle: north-south forty seconds, east-west thirty seconds. The truck approaches from the north. Sakura sends the signal from the top of the pedestrian bridge." He recorded it in his own voice. Listened. Recorded again. His hands trembled. (Am I scared?) He stared at his trembling hands—no, he only had the sensation of staring. In the darkness, he felt his hands shake. (Of course I am.) (If I fail, Yui dies.) (I die too.) His fingers wouldn't obey. "—Screw this." He slammed his fist into the tatami. *Thud.* Pain. But the shaking stopped. "It's fine. It'll work out." He re-recorded. "Judge the truck's approach by engine sound. A low tone climbing the slope. At two hundred meters, the exhaust note changes. Three seconds after that, the accessible pedestrian signal switches to east-west." He etched his own voice into his ears. Again and again. ◇◇◇ Before dawn. 4:00 AM. Kanata walked through the residential streets, leaning on his white cane. *Tap. Tap.* Only the sound of the cane striking the ground echoed through the quiet town. (Cold.) His breath was white. He descended the slope. On his left, the murmur of the Asase River. On his right— He stopped. The wind carried the scent of flowers. Yui's house. The planter on the balcony. The flowers Kanata had worried were "withering." (She watered them.) The smell of soil. The scent of wet petals. Someone had watered them this morning. Yui had. (She's alive.) His chest tightened painfully. (This morning, she watered the flowers. Then put on her uniform. Ate breakfast. Left the house. Headed for Midori Bridge. Her usual route to school—) Kanata clenched his fist. (Like hell I'll let her.) He gripped the white cane again. *Tap.* One step. *Tap.* Another step. The white-haired boy descended the dark slope. In the residential streets before dawn, only the sound of the cane rang out, steady and rhythmic. ◇◇◇ 6:50 AM. Kanata stood at the Midori Bridge West Intersection. He strained his ears. The electronic sound of the signal. North-south was green. *Chirp chirp.* The sound of cars. Few. It was Sunday morning. Wind direction. Northwest. (Tomorrow—no, Monday morning.) (Sakura will come here.) (She'll direct the truck.) Kanata stood in the center of the intersection. He readied his white cane. (All I have left are my ears, my nose, and touch.) (My vision is zero.) (My body's already wrecked.) (But—) The morning sun began to rise. Behind his eyelids, a faint brightness. The sensation of light alone still remained. (Yui is alive.) (That alone—is enough.) He clenched his fist. No more trembling. He waited for dawn. In the silence, all alone. Gripping his white cane.

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Episode 6

Name: Gray Wings No Longer Needed ~I'll Protect Your Tomorrow~
Author: Novelia

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