Muzashi Temple – Kyoto, Japan
Makoto's Room – 6:33 A.M.
The rain barely touched the temple rooftops, as if it didn't want to make a sound.
High on the hill, among cherry trees asleep for the winter, the silence was heavier than the cold.
Makoto was already awake, sitting in the corner of her futon, hugging her knees tightly, crushing her favorite stuffed toy between them.
She was wearing an old Brazilian soccer sweatshirt—slightly tight on her now—but it was special. That shirt had been a gift from Brian when he left, wheelchair-bound, at the end of his student exchange.
"Oni-chan... I wanted so badly for my friends to meet you… How could this happen to you? It wasn't enough to lose soccer, to be sent back over there in a wheelchair... I just don't get it. How can fate be so cruel to someone like you?"
The image of her older cousin, smiling while working magic with a soccer ball and singing silly lullabies to help her fall asleep—badly—still echoed in her mind.
Her eyes, red and swollen, had long lost track of how many tears she'd shed. But she wiped them anyway.
In her hands, crumpled and faded, was a small folded piece of paper:
A childhood drawing of herself, sitting on the shoulders of a blond boy, holding up a soccer ball with a huge, toothy grin.
On the back, he'd written:
"Someday I'll take you to Europe and to the biggest soccer stadium in the world. I promise, Manako."
Reading it again, she thought:
"You liar, Oni-chan… You never kept that promise. You didn't even come to the temple for ten years… You left me. Just like Grandpa… Liar…"
Tears welled up again, and yet—
—"Onii-chan…" she whispered, voice trembling. "...Are you really not going to wake up?"
The sliding door opened quietly.
Her mother, Aoki Muzashi, entered in silence. Her face was tense, like someone barely holding it together.
Makoto looked at her, fearing the worst. But Aoki's expression changed—worry shifted into hope. She nodded slowly.
—"Mako… He did it… Brian opened his eyes. He did it last night. I stayed waiting for the results, but I thought you deserved to know first."
—"H-he did...? R-really?" The girl (not quite so little anymore) stood up, her heart racing.
—"Yes… just for a few seconds. Just long enough to see the light… To feel that he's still here. Sweetheart, Brian is stable now. All that's left is to wait… for him to wake up."
Makoto covered her mouth with both hands.
And after five long days wondering if Brian would survive… the tears running down her cheeks now weren't of sorrow.
They were relief.
Hope.
Happiness.
She ran and hugged her mother tightly.
—"I knew it! I knew it! He… he'd never let himself die, not before keeping his promises…"
But the embrace didn't last.
Aoki's phone vibrated.
She picked it up, read the name on the screen.
Her expression collapsed.
The blood drained from her face.
Makoto noticed it instantly.
—"Mom… what's wrong?"
Aoki didn't answer right away.
She slowly lowered her arm, phone still in hand.
—"His brain activity… faded again."
—"What…?" Makoto whispered.
—"I just came from there. I know he was conscious. I saw his eyes. I know he saw me, even if just for a second. But…"
Her voice began to crack. Thick tears started breaking through the calm mask she had forced on for her daughter.
—"They say his signals destabilized again. They don't know if it was an involuntary reaction to waking up. They don't know if… that was his goodbye."
Makoto stepped back.
Her whole body shook, as if the entire temple was crashing down on her shoulders.
—"...No… no, no… you said… you said he opened his eyes…"
—"He did, Mako. But—" Aoki tried to keep herself steady. To calm her daughter. But—
—"THEN WHY DIDN'T HE STAY?!" she screamed. The tears returned, raging, violent.
"WHY ONLY A FEW SECONDS?! WHY IS HE DOING THIS TO US?!"
Aoki wanted to hold her. But she couldn't move.
Makoto collapsed to her knees, still holding the crumpled drawing—now crushed by fury and grief.
"You're playing with me in the cruelest way…" she whispered.
"Oni-chan… why do you have to be so cruel…?"
Her mother left the room quietly.
And the rain began to fall harder over the temple rooftops...
There Makoto remained. Shattered. Furious. Crying.
In a silence that ate away at her heart.
Brian, to her, wasn't just a charming cousin.
To her, he was more than a brother or a friend.
He was the man—the boy—who showed her that living without filters was more real than simply existing.
And now, that bond was the very thing causing her pain.
Not the coma.
Not the distance.
Not even time.
Nothing had ever erased that memory engraved in her heart.
***
Muzashi Temple – Kyoto Hills
6:43 A.M.
The air was sharp, the rain light. There was no wind—just the damp chill that seeped into your bones and forced you to move just to stay warm.
Reina was running along the old stone paths, scarf wrapped tight around her neck, breath escaping in soft white clouds.
Her breathing was measured, controlled—almost as much as her thoughts… though that part was getting harder with each step.
She'd been running for an hour.
Not for health.
Not for discipline.
She just wanted to stop thinking.
"I need to clear my head. I don't want to think anymore… no more… no more…"
But her feet had a mind of their own.
She turned—down a path she never took.
The Muzashi Temple loomed between the winter sakura trees like an ancient painting.
Silent. Still.
And for some reason… comforting.
She climbed the hill before the rain worsened, like she was running from something only she understood.
At the temple gate, sweaty and breathless, she felt it:
The memory.
Flashback – Senju Middle School, Kyoto
January 18, 2017 – 6:41 P.M.
The gym smelled like old wood and sports tape. The lights were off except for one flickering above. Reina had stayed late to practice. Final serves. Final spikes. The sound of the ball bouncing echoed in the emptiness.
Exhausted, she wiped her forehead with her sleeve and grabbed her bag.
But as she exited to the side corridor, she saw him.
The soccer field beyond the metal fence was glowing under floodlights.
And in the middle of it—
Murphy.
Blond. Soaked in sweat. Knees scraped.
And a ball that refused to stop dancing between his feet.
He juggled. He did drills. He sprinted from one end to the other.
Alone.
"What the hell is that idiot doing out there this late…?" Reina thought.
But she didn't move.
She just watched. Brow furrowed like she was mocking him… but she didn't laugh.
Because deep down, she admired him.
For not giving up.
For that damn determination to be his raw, honest self—no matter what anyone in class said.
And there he was. Giving it everything. Even when no one was watching.
Except her.
The ball soared in a wild, curved arc—slammed into the top corner of the goalpost with a violent clang.
It bounced back hard, but Brian caught it with a soft, artistic touch. Elegant.
He laughed to himself like a madman.
And without knowing anyone was watching, he yelled with pride, beating his chest:
—"Bend it like Roberto Carlos! Outclass me, Zidane!"
Reina nearly burst out laughing.
"You're crazy, idiot… but your skill is insane."
Back to the Present
Reina closed her eyes.
The cold didn't bite as hard anymore.
Her chest ached—but not from the run.
A different kind of pain.
—"Idiot…" she whispered into the wind, her smile cracked.
"You were always the type who didn't know when to quit, huh?"
She fixed her scarf and looked down at her soaked sneakers, leaving faint prints on the stone.
She wasn't looking for answers.
Just peace.
The rain was starting to fade, but she kept her gaze fixed on the temple gate.
"Makoto must be feeling…"
She didn't finish the thought.
"…I know what to do."
But at that very moment, lower down the hill, another car was making the turn between the cherry trees.
***
Road to the Muzashi Temple – Kyoto Outskirts
6:47 A.M.
Kaede kept her hands steady on the wheel, but her mind was somewhere far beyond the windshield. The engine purred gently. The rain had stopped, but the cold still clung to the edges of the fogged glass.
As the road wound through the trees and hills, her thoughts drifted…
Flashback — April 12, 2017 – Kyoto
—"Hurry up, Brian-san!" Reina yelled from the station platform.
—"I'm trying! This uniform's way too tight!" Brian shouted, half-laughing, adjusting his backpack while running.
That day, after school, the girls had taken him to one of Kyoto's most underrated spots: a hidden otaku bookstore in the alleyways of the shopping district.
Manga stacked like towers.
The scent of fresh paper.
Holy ground.
Brian's eyes lit up like a child.
—"Is it normal to have a whole section for step-sibling romances with superpowers?"
Reina and Kaede exchanged a knowing look and stifled laughter.
—"Welcome to Japan, you clueless foreigner!" Reina said, mocking.
—"Yeah… this is just level one," Kaede added shyly, pushing up her glasses.
But then Brian froze.
On the shelf in front of him hung a peculiar pillow—shaped like a woman's lap, legs folded, with a tiny towel on top.
—"What… the hell is that?"
Reina approached like a sensual archaeologist.
—"It's called a hizamakura—a lap pillow. Mothers used to let their kids rest their heads in their laps while cleaning their ears. It's very intimate. This… replicates that."
Brian squinted.
—"Isn't that… disturbing? Who turns that into a bedtime product? Sounds like a fetish wrapped in nostalgia."
—"WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY?!" Reina shoved him, half-embarrassed, half-furious.
"You don't get anything about our culture, you perverted westerner!"
—"Perverted?! I'm not the one selling plastic thighs and calling it comfort! That's therapy bait, or worse—Netflix original material!"
Kaede tried to stay composed, but giggled.
—"Well… you're not wrong. But you're being kinda cynical."
—"I'm being realistic!" Brian said with a raised eyebrow.
"In my country, this ends in court or comedy."
Reina crossed her arms, fuming.
—"You westerners always think you're right!"
—"And you guys have leg-pillows! No defense for that!"
Kaede just smiled softly at the chaos.
"You're so strange… but different. So shameless. So honest. So real...
Brian-kun... why are you so damn lovable?"
Back to the Present
Kaede let out a long, nostalgic sigh.
The temple was now visible through the trees.
—"Brian-kun…" she whispered.
"Why do you still mess with my heart like this? Even when you're not trying…"
But those memories—precious as they were—also hurt.
That boy who talked about culture and sometimes dozed off in class…
Now lay comatose.
She gripped the steering wheel tighter and thought:
—"Wake up… Just wake up, Brian-kun."
***
Muzashi Temple – Main Path, Outside – 6:48 A.M.
The rain had let up, but the air still smelled of wet earth and aged wood.
Aoki descended the temple stairs quickly, her semi-formal kimono rustling with her pace.
Her face showed calm… but her eyes were swollen from held-back tears.
She pulled her keys from her purse and clicked the remote.
The black sedan's lights blinked in the lower parking lot.
She didn't say a word.
Got in.
Started the engine.
Closed her eyes for just one second.
—"Don't die, Brian… Not now. Don't you dare scare me like this."
She turned the wheel and began descending the narrow stone road.
At that same moment, another vehicle was climbing from the curve—a dark gray minivan. Kaede's car.
The high beams caught Aoki's face for a split second.
Inside, Kaede's eyes widened.
—"Isn't that… Obasan?"
She tried to slow down—but Aoki passed her without stopping, without turning.
Her eyes locked on the road ahead—as if braking would mean losing something forever.
Kaede barely glimpsed her face through the windshield:
Pain. Urgency. Fear.
"Something's wrong…" Kaede murmured, now truly worried.
Both cars vanished in opposite directions.
One climbing toward the past—
The other descending toward uncertainty.
And in between…
The weight of fate.