The days after Akagi's departure blurred into a haze of numbness for Sana. She spent her time confined to her hospital room, the sterile walls pressing in on her, the quiet hum of machines reminding her of the fragility of her existence. The light that once danced in her eyes had long since dimmed, replaced by an emptiness that weighed her down. Every day seemed to stretch endlessly, time moving in slow motion as she replayed Akagi's last words over and over, hoping to make sense of the pain that consumed her. But all she found was a hollow ache where love had once been.
One afternoon, craving anything that might break the monotony, Sana asked the nurse if she could visit the hospital garden. She longed for a moment of fresh air, a small escape from the confines of her room. After a pause, the nurse hesitated but ultimately agreed, leading Sana through the stark, sterile corridors.
When they stepped outside, the air was cool and refreshing, carrying the scent of earth and flowers. Sana's legs felt weak beneath her, her body fatigued from days of isolation, but she pushed forward. The garden was a sharp contrast to the dreariness inside the hospital. The cherry blossom tree stood tall in the center, its branches swaying gently in the breeze, pale pink petals fluttering down like soft rain. At the base of the tree, bright yellow flowers bloomed in a vibrant sea, their cheerful color standing out against the surrounding greenery.
Sana approached the cherry blossom tree slowly, her hand brushing against the rough bark as she inhaled deeply, the fresh air filling her lungs. She closed her eyes, willing herself to feel something beyond the emptiness that had become her constant companion. The wind whispered through the branches above her, scattering petals around her feet, but it was the golden hue of the flowers below that caught her attention.
Then, she noticed him.
A figure approached from the far side of the garden, his white hair catching the sunlight as he moved with a quiet grace. There was something about him—something that pulled at her attention, though she couldn't quite place it. His posture was relaxed, but his steps were deliberate, as though he carried a burden unseen by the world.
He stopped a few feet from her, standing beneath the tree, his eyes drifting to the yellow flowers that surrounded them. For a moment, he seemed lost in thought, his gaze soft as if remembering something from a distant past. Sana watched him, unsure whether to say something or remain silent. He didn't seem to notice her at first, but then, without looking up, he spoke.
"These flowers," he said, his voice quiet but clear. "They're called rak raek pob."
Sana blinked, surprised that he was addressing her. "Rak raek pob?"
He nodded, his eyes still on the flowers. "It's a Thai name. It means 'love at first sight.' They only bloom for a short time each year, just like these cherry blossoms. But when they do…" He paused, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. "They're beautiful, aren't they?"
Sana followed his gaze, staring down at the flowers. They were beautiful—bright, vibrant, and full of life. But the meaning behind them tugged at her in a way she couldn't explain. Love at first sight… It felt like something distant and unreachable, a concept that had slipped away from her.
"Yes," she whispered, almost to herself. "They are."
He finally looked up at her, his piercing blue eyes meeting hers with a calm intensity that made her heart skip a beat. "I'm Satoru," he said simply, his voice carrying a warmth that contrasted with the cool breeze around them.
"Sana," she replied softly.
They stood in silence for a moment, the only sound being the soft rustle of petals falling from the tree. There was something about him that felt familiar, though she knew they had never met before. His presence was unsettling, yet comforting at the same time—like a part of her had been waiting for him without realizing it.
Satoru's gaze drifted back to the flowers. "You know, they say these blossoms only bloom for those who need to be reminded that beauty still exists," he said, his voice almost wistful. "Even in the middle of everything falling apart."
Sana didn't know how to respond. She hadn't expected this stranger to speak as if he understood her pain, as if he could see the emptiness that had consumed her. She looked away, unsure of what to say, but Satoru's presence lingered beside her, a quiet but steady comfort.
Over the next few days, Satoru returned to the garden, and Sana found herself waiting for him each time. At first, their conversations remained light, with Satoru talking about the changing weather, the garden, or random observations about the flowers that now bloomed around them. But as the week progressed, they began to talk more—about themselves, their lives, and the things they rarely shared with anyone else.
"You don't seem like the kind of person who spends time in a place like this," Sana remarked one afternoon as they sat under the tree. "Why do you come here?"
Satoru tilted his head, his gaze focused on the cherry blossoms above. "You could say I'm in between things right now," he said with a hint of something unspoken.
"In between?"
He paused, as if choosing his words carefully. "I've been on the move for a while now. You could say I'm looking for something. Or maybe I'm just avoiding other things."
Sana nodded, sensing there was more beneath the surface of his vague words. She didn't press, though. They both had their secrets.
"What about you?" he asked, turning the conversation back to her. "What brought you here?"
Sana hesitated. "I guess… I didn't really have a choice," she said, looking away. "I was sent here."
Satoru's eyes flickered with something unreadable. "Sent?"
"Yeah." Her voice was quiet. "I don't know why. I don't even know what they expected to happen."
The words hung in the air for a moment, and she found herself wondering about the reality of her situation for the first time. Why had she been sent here? Why hadn't she questioned it before?
One afternoon, as they sat beneath the cherry blossom tree, the wind scattering petals around them, Satoru looked at her with a seriousness she hadn't seen before.
"You know, I wasn't always supposed to be here," he said quietly.
Sana turned to him, her brow furrowing. "What do you mean?"
He looked away for a moment, his gaze falling once again on the beautiful yellow flowers. "There are people who don't want you to leave this hospital," he said, his voice heavy with unspoken weight. "They see you as a threat… a loose end."
Her heart skipped a beat. She had always sensed something lurking in the shadows, but to hear it confirmed from Satoru's mouth was different. It made everything real.
"What?" Sana's voice trembled slightly. "Why would anyone want to harm me? I've never… done anything."
Satoru was silent for a moment, his gaze distant. "It's complicated. The people involved—they don't care about what you've done or haven't done. They care about what you might do."
"What I might do?" she repeated, her voice growing even softer, as if she was trying to understand something that still felt beyond her grasp. "I don't understand."
Satoru's eyes finally met hers again, his expression filled with a quiet resolve. "You're part of something bigger than you realize, Sana. And that scares them."
Sana stared at him, her mind racing. She should have felt fear, but instead, all she felt was confusion—and something else, something warm and unexpected blooming in her chest. Satoru had been sent to end her life, but he had chosen not to. He had chosen to protect her.
"Why?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.
Satoru met her gaze, his blue eyes filled with a mixture of sorrow and resolve. "Because some things… some people, are worth fighting for."
Sana didn't know what to say. The weight of Satoru's words settled in her chest, heavy and unsettling. She hadn't even considered the idea that someone might want to harm her—that her life had been hanging in the balance all this time. Now, the truth was staring her in the face, and she wasn't sure how to feel. She wasn't relieved, not yet. Satoru's choice to protect her, to defy his orders, left her with more questions than answers. Trust wasn't something she could give easily, not after everything she'd been through. But even so, there was something in his voice—an honesty that made her want to believe him, if only for a moment. It wasn't hope she felt, not exactly, but maybe the faintest whisper of it, lingering in the back of her mind. Whatever Satoru's reasons, his presence was undeniable. For now, that was enough.
By the end of the week, Satoru returned to the hospital with a calm but triumphant expression.
"It's done," he told her, his voice steady. "You're safe now."