Watching my sister play hanabi—or to be precise, fireworks, as hanabi was the Japanese term for it—I couldn't help but smile.
She was running around from stall to stall, her face glowing with excitement under the warm lights of the festival.
I sat back on the bench, feeling a rare sense of happiness bubble up in me.
Seeing her like this, so full of life, was a moment I hadn't dared to hope for.
I could stop her. I could tell her to take it easy, to rest.
But seeing her smile, truly smile, for the first time in her life—I couldn't bring myself to do it.
It was the first time I'd ever seen her this happy.
For two long years, she had been bedridden, trapped in a cold, sterile hospital room, battling an unknown and relentless disease that left even the best doctors scratching their heads.
Her pale complexion had been a constant reminder of her frailty, and now, though her face was flushed with exhaustion and beads of sweat dotted her brow, she radiated a joy that I hadn't thought possible.
Still, indulgent as I was, I knew when enough was enough.
I stood up, watching her dart around with less energy than before.
Her breathing was heavier, and the strain was beginning to show. I couldn't let her overdo it.
As we made our way through the festival, the sights and sounds surrounded us.
Couples walked hand in hand, laughing softly as the fireworks lit up the night sky in bursts of color.
The air was filled with the enticing aromas of roasted corn, spicy sauces, and sweet candied apples, mixing into an intoxicating blend of festivity.
I gently placed a hand on her head, stopping her in her tracks.
"That's enough, sister. You should rest now," I said firmly.
"Mo... You're no fun, brother." Hatsune Otonashi pouted, puffing out her cheeks in mock annoyance.
Despite her objection, she didn't run off again. Instead, she clung to my arm, looking up at me with a cheeky grin that didn't quite hide her tiredness.
"How about we go taste some ramen, brother?" she asked, her voice brimming with excitement. "It's been two years since I've had anything spicy!"
"No. That won't do," I said, shaking my head. I didn't want to risk her overexerting herself or eating something that might upset her fragile condition.
"Brother... please? Just this once," she pleaded, her big, expressive eyes staring into mine.
There was something deeper behind her gaze—a quiet desperation that cut through my resolve.
Beneath her cheerful façade, I could see the weight she carried: fear, hopelessness, and a longing to feel alive, even if just for a fleeting moment.
She wasn't asking for much. She just wanted to live a little, to enjoy the life she feared might not last much longer.
How could I say no to that?
In the end, I nodded.
"Fine. But nothing too spicy," I said, relenting with a sigh.
We walked into a small ramen shop, the rich, spicy aroma wrapping around us like a warm embrace.
The place was cozy, with steam rising from bowls as the sounds of slurping and chatter filled the air.
We ordered ramen—not spicy, but flavorful enough to satisfy her craving.
As the bowls arrived, she dug in with an enthusiasm that warmed my heart.
Slurping the noodles impatiently, her eyes sparkled with joy as though she couldn't get enough of it.
It wasn't just food to her—it was freedom, a taste of the life she had been missing for so long.
We wandered through the festival after that, visiting stall after stall.
She insisted on trying every treat she could find: sweet dango, grilled fish, fluffy cotton candy, and even cold drinks that made her giggle as the chill hit her throat.
She was like a bird that had finally escaped its cage, soaring freely through the night sky, if only for a little while.
As I watched her, a bittersweet feeling settled in my chest.
I silently wished this moment could last forever.
Seeing her like this—so alive, so happy—I wanted to freeze time and keep her in this fleeting happiness for as long as I could.
But deep down, I knew better.
That was why I let her enjoy it all, even if it was just for tonight.
Sitting on a nearby bench, the two of us were utterly drained, both from the running around and the joy of soaking in the festive atmosphere.
The vibrant lights of the festival flickered in the distance, casting soft shadows over us as we caught our breath.
"Brother... I'm sorry for keeping the truth from you," Hatsune says softly, almost hesitantly.
Her sheepish tone pulls my attention immediately. "The truth is… I feel it. I don't have much time left."
Her words hit me like a hammer, and my chest tightens.
"We need to go to the doctor—now!" I blurt out, panic clear in my voice.
"No, brother. Listen to me," she cuts me off, shaking her head firmly. "Doctors can't save me. They never could. You've seen it yourself—the endless tests, the pointless treatments. They've given us nothing but vague reassurances and no real answers. You know that as well as I do."
Her words stab me with a cruel clarity, and I can't argue back.
"I know my condition better than they ever will," she continues, her voice trembling but resolute. "So, just for tonight, I want to forget about all of it. I want to watch the fireworks with you, one last time."
She turns her gaze toward the night sky, where the first bursts of hanabi explode in vibrant colors.
"Look, brother. Isn't it beautiful? The sky is so clear tonight…" Her voice is cheerful, almost unnaturally so.
There's no trace of sadness in it, but that only makes it hurt more.
It hits me—she's already accepted it. She's made peace with her fate in a way I haven't, and maybe never will.
She turns back to me, her eyes shimmering, though not from tears. She's smiling, but the corners of her lips quiver just slightly, betraying her fragile composure.
"Am I selfish, brother?" she asks, sighing deeply. "I've always thought about my own happiness… about what I wanted… without ever considering what would happen to you if I left. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, brother. Please, don't be sad after I'm gone. Promise me you'll live for yourself. Can you do that for me?"
Her words shatter me, and I feel my voice choke in my throat.
"Is this your last wish, Hatsune?" I manage to whisper, my hand brushing gently through her crimson hair.
She smiles again, but this time it's bittersweet. "My last wish?"
She tilts her head playfully, trying to mask her sorrow.
"If I could be selfish, I'd wish to be your bride. But… it's such a pity, isn't it? That'll never happen." She chuckles softly, the sound barely audible.
"If there's a next life, though… I don't want to come back as your sister, brother. I want to come back as your bride."
Her smile grows brighter, almost dazzling, even as her strength fades.
She leans into me, her head resting against my chest. Her breath hitches for a moment, and then… silence.
She dies in my arms, her lips still curled into that radiant smile.
I don't even notice the tears falling until they drip onto her face.
My chest tightens unbearably as I hold her limp body close, refusing to let go.
Why…?
Why does it have to end like this?
Why, Hatsune?
Why are you leaving me?
The world feels empty. The festival lights, the laughter in the distance—it all seems cruelly hollow now.
I don't know what's left for me anymore.
What's the point of living when everything that gave life meaning is gone?
I don't have the answers.
All I know is that she deserves a proper farewell.
Gently, I stand from the bench, cradling her lifeless body in my arms.
Her face is serene, almost as if she's sleeping, and I hold her close as though I can protect her even now.
She's at peace, but I am not. Not yet.
With trembling steps, I carry her away from the festival lights and the fireworks exploding above, preparing to say goodbye to the one person I can never let go.