Chapter Text
Sarina had long run out of tears to weep.
And now, she was at last running out of time too. The twelve year old was certain – when she closed her eyes this evening, she would not open them again. Sensei had come – how glad she was that there was some one who cried with her. Alas, the nurse reminded the good doctor that he had other patients and appointments on the morrow. Sarina had bid him take her advice. Though it had hurt, she did not wish to cause pain to him most of all people.
Would her mother cry, when she heard of her passing? Would her father weep at the sight of her grave?
What cruel a fate, for a child to doubt this!
What a cruel fate death was too. Oh how she wished that she could live, to feel the arms of her mother again, to hug her father again, to have Sensei praise her and to be the light to others as Ai had been to her. And yet death, like a scythe of crescent moon came for the girl, leaving all to ash.
Was there not a God who loved humans, Sarina thought, remembering an errant radio program her clumsiness had landed her on one time. Did he not promise to deliver them from death?
To that god did she pray her last breath, as the last of her meager strength departed and she fell to a seemingly final slumber, in the dark hospital room that had been her home for the past years. Alone, except for a crow that had been standing on the windowsill for quite some time.
The bird gazed at the shallow breaths of the girl for a while.
And then it took flight.
There was a notion of wings and an idea of flight. Though no wings existed in the world that could bear the being some called Tsukuyomi halfway across the world in a breath, to the emerald fields of Europe, cloaked in the darkness before dawn. It did not take her long to find her hope – in a hospital of a foreign city, frenzied humans worked frantically to save many of their kind from Azrael’s scythe, fighting against their exhaustion. And, unbeknownst to them, countless angels of healing followed their every step, guiding their hands, even as her own sable winged simils waited grimly in corners, or some notion thereof.
And among them the Archangel of Healing himself – Raphael stood also.
“W̷̘̹̆̐h̵̛̲̠͖͉̽y̶̟͇̥͕̏͌̄͂͜ ̸̖̫̘̖̏͂͠h̴͔̥͇̫̅͊̌a̶͉͆̈́̐̕t̶̥̬̀̏̂́h̵̙̮̘̆̀͠ ̶̬̅̍t̶̜̺̂̈́̊h̸̡̜̦̰̎ọ̴̜̭͖͇̀̃ű̸͜ ̵̣̩̣͛́̔͘ͅc̷̢̪̲͉̱͑͊͊o̵̯̟̤̖̲̾m̶̩̰̆̈ȩ̷̱͆͛,̵͔͊̽͝͠ ̸̤̀s̶̟̤͛̈́͜c̵͉͈͑͗͑̈́͝y̸̭̅͗͊͜t̷̫͕̜̞͌̎̈́͝͝ͅh̷̬̃̄ḛ̷̡̤̫́̓ ̷̞̥̓͆̌̕o̷̝̪̣͎̮̕f̸̫̺͙̣̌ ̷͖̄a̵̢̰̓͛̓͂͝ ̶̧͚̫̠͐͌́ŷ̴̗͓̹̳̊̋o̵̗̐n̷͎̿ḑ̸̕ë̷̺́r̷̬̜͈̮͛͋ ̴̣̳̱͖̥͐͐͆̔͝l̷̳̼͈̆̀a̸̗̾̄̐n̵̟̑̂d̴̲̲͍̼͉̅̈́̀̊͋?̷͕̊̒̓ͅ ̸̛̰̫̭͑S̴͓̳͉̞͑̈̊ḩ̷̢̿̓͐ó̴̧͍̥̓́͠u̵̯̫̮̓̅̍̆l̸͎̺͕̫͕͛̑̆͠ḓ̸͑̃͠ ̷̖̫̪̈́̈̾͒̊t̸̨̢̞͋h̴̹͉͠ó̵̢̭̫̼̹̕u̴͊̑̏́͘ͅ ̸̢̠̥̯̤̃̐̅̈́ṅ̴̛͇͉̘͂͑̅͜o̵̜̫̣͐̄̉t̴̡̨͚̏̓̀ ̶̛̣͚ͅb̵̼̯̼̥̀̒̿̈́͝e̴̱̊̚s̵͙̫͖̔͌̈͝e̴̢͖͂͌͜e̶̡͍̼͎̪͗̓̅̒c̴̠͛h̸̛̹̼̪͉͂̍̌͠ͅ ̴̢̆t̵̟͙͈̬̅̏̎̕h̵̪̟́̔ĩ̷̭̹̝͈̈́̓ṇ̴̰͉̋͆͛͘͜͝ḛ̸̛̣̯̐̽̎ ̶̧̣̹̃͛o̶͙̟̊̇w̵̛̮͋̑̓̾ǹ̴̢̻̲̰̱͊ ̵̛̤̗̳̥͚ā̷̬͕̩͗̉͐r̶̰̆͊̌͒c̸̞̝̺̩̓ͅh̵͍͕̯̓̿̊̄̅o̷̤̩͚̙̅̕n̴̝̿̍̍̎͝ ̴̻̆͑̉̈́̄͜ị̷͎̰̔͌̃͘f̷̯̖̐͋̚ ̶͓̏̽̏͜å̸̧͇̬͉̈́̋͝u̵̢̠͖̲̬̒͑̌͘g̵̰̣̽ȟ̵̡̝̜͓ẗ̷͍́̀̐̒ ̶̮͋̚͝t̵̙͍̓̈̈́r̵̼̀͆̆͐ö̵̟̼́ų̶̟͎̝͎͐b̸̙̯̯̆̚l̸̢̜̀̓͌͝ẽ̸̢̞̅s̸̜̤̺̿̾̋?̶̡͍͖̱̳̀̓́” He asked in no voice, yet which sounded sing song, like the lullaby of a loving father in a voice of bells.
“N̷̜͍͎͙͇̈́̈́̓́â̸̮͇͒ẏ̴͔̲̓̚,̷̲͑͆͝ ̵̦͓̇̐̈́̆͠Ŗ̵̹̑̾͐̇ȃ̶̧̲́p̴̛̦͓͓̌̾̐h̸̟̭̐a̸̘̬͖̅́ë̸͚͓̳́̀̌̉͝l̴̗̇,̶̨͍̩̙͗̀̍͘ ̶̰̫̳̬̭̅̅̌̓͝f̵̨͕͊̐͆̔o̴͚̺̜̟͓̎͝r̴̦͖̳̯̈́̔̅̾̓ ̴̣̈̔A̶̺̟̪̥̲͋z̷͓͛̅r̴̤͙͇͆́͠â̸̡͎̲̓͜ȩ̸͚̪̳̒͝ͅl̸̛͇͔̣̍̄͛ ̵̜̖̤̋ḯ̵̮͓͗͑͒͠ͅs̵̭͙͂̓͘̚ ̵͈̩̱̥̑͌̆̑͊ţ̶͔͝͝h̸̗̭̃̋̐̕e̵͓̝̬͊̎͊̃ ̵̬̙̟̖̀̚͠s̵͔̑͂̒l̸̮̦̲͎̲͗̐̋̕a̸͖̳͂͌̒͒y̴̧̝͍̳̐͜ẻ̴̥̏̂̕ŗ̶̦͈̖̔ͅ ̷̰̣̻̈́a̸̢̿̚n̵͎̻͈̟̰̈́̊̿̎̕d̷̩͚͂́̀̊̀ ̶̩̹̜͒͛̂Ĝ̸̰͇͇͔̇͒̕a̶̺̙̤͂b̷̯̝̃r̵̦͙̟̞̆͋i̸̯̒̀e̸̢̖͆͝ĺ̵̙̗͉̲̕͝ ̷̯̦́̽͋–̵̢̩̇ ̴̨͇̓̊̚̕͜ṯ̶̤̺̍͊̅h̴̡͓̝͗e̵̡̱̾̾ ̷̡̹͑́͝ś̶̮̠̞̒͗̀͠w̵͇̱̳͓̅̐̾̚͝o̸̩͍̲̔r̶͙͛̎d̴͓͉̐̌,̷̻̯̓̚ ̶̳͖̺̹̓̈́̆̒͝a̷̧̳͙̠̍͒͘s̵̻̗͈͕͛́̚ ̷̜͈̪̜̊̌͋̀̚ͅa̵̰͙͎̰̒̏m̷̰͚̆̇ ̴͙̦̺̞̊̎̃̚I̴̦͌̊̀̍,̸̜͈̾̈́̌̔ ̶̩̉̀b̶̰͙̩̰̏u̸̩̅̓͒̄t̷̳̊̔͌́͝ ̷̞̏̉‘̷̰̟̪̈́́̈́̏͠ť̴̺̣̰̖͉̚͠i̷̬̙̖͔̞̿͛͝s̶̢̡̨͚͈̎̓̅ ̵̙̆̓̓̐H̷͙̦̦͒̑͊i̶̗͖̹͎͗s̶̡̨̮͉͈̄́ ̷̲̤̙̙̒̃s̴͔̬̾̉͌́̓u̸̫̯̫̻͐̀̂c̵͖̈́́̾̉̈c̵̨͈̆̏o̷̙̠̺͑r̵̙̤̲̩̎ ̴̧̳̗̆̐̈t̴̜̱͖̤̮̋̈́̓̔͝ḧ̸̘̬̙́̋a̷͓͋̇t̵̳̙̏͒͐͛ ̴̪̩̃i̴͎͓͔͕̊ș̴̂̌̂̄ ̶̻͍̜͖̓̆̚͝a̵͕͓͈̯͊̎͒s̵̢̛̜̜̟̖͂̅͌̀ķ̵̛̙̲͙̠̋́̈́ë̵͍̬̑d̵̨̫̪̥̿̇̎̈ ̵̧̼̱͆́̀̔͌o̸͙̺̞̝̿̚f̸̺̋̽͛̀̀ ̸̡̙̽m̵̘͖̪͋͊̃e̷̘̗͜͝.̴̛̬̀̏̌”
“H̵̢̪͇̐̉̇̾̕̚ị̷̹̀́̅̈̓š̴͙̹̗͙t̴̡̬͉͉̲̝̔̈͝ͅo̴̧̎͠r̵͎̫̭̖͗͆̈͛̒́͐͠y̵̨̧̥̦̜͂̆̈̅̈͛͝ ̶̧͖̰̝̮̖̞̘͂ḅ̸̨̪̘̞̥̯͒̈̒̉̌͐͜͠i̷̧̺̟̼̝͕͆̈́̎̿̌͛͒͜͝d̶̗̖̭̈́̽̐͒̓̄s̵̱̲̳̞̽̽͂̄͐̿̏̑ ̵̼̑͐͆͐͘m̶̺̲̻͂̾͠ê̸̩̣͇̞̓̓̀ ̴̪̃́̏̄̔̄̓u̵̫͖̭̐̎r̶̼̝̗̃͆͆̊́̕g̷̙͖̺͚̥͙̼͎̈́̓̂͆͐͋͋̿ę̸̨̛̙̫̖͓̫̱̉̀̏̿ ̴̧͖̤͙̩̯͌̚͜c̵̡͉̯̠̹̘͈͐̆͛̇̏̎̾a̵͇̺̙̜̖̹̩̍̾͂̃͑͐ú̵̖̘t̷̳̎͗̈́́̿̿í̵̙͍̣͎̟͇͑̽̂͆͘͝o̷̧̬͛̅̾̓̏̐n̸̮͈͕̲̹͎̕ ̷̩͔̎̅͋͜ẗ̶̜̫͇́͐ͅo̸̞̤̪̤̯̘͉̺̐̆̇̂ ̴̢̢̤͍̼͕̪̘͌̈t̶͔̪̝̫̝̥̞̐͛̿͋̽̕ḫ̵̙̗̘̩͆͛ͅe̵͙̠̙̳̺̭̗͛ȅ̷̫̟̪.̷̨͈̺͛͜”
“I̵̛̻͎̓ ̸̘̥̌̏ķ̴͙̮̟́n̵̢̫͕͒͝͠o̶͙͚̻̞̮̅̏̑w̴̟͆̆̓̌ ̶̛̛̞̉͐f̷̢̣̤̪͐̇̀͜u̵̯͖̭͘l̵̤̙̱̚ļ̶̣̌̅̓͊̕ ̴̟͎͎̜̰̇̌̓̄͘ẇ̴̢̘͙̕ę̶̣̲͉̭̐l̶̯̲̙̺̀̎̆̿͝l̷͚̳̐̓͑̚ ̸̧̘̼̭̀̔̔͌̿–̷̱̝̲̰͗͜ ̶̜̒̐̑ẙ̵̨̰̘̩̒͘ͅe̴͙̔̆͌t̴̠̦̯̻̐̇̉͘ ̶̡̄͛̎̈́o̸̭͛͌̏́̕u̵̪̱͉̥͆͆ŕ̶̮̭̅̕͜ ̷̧̘̙̘̐p̷͓͖̞̫̀͊͗̈́̿͜ų̴̳̭̀̀̒̉̚ṙ̵͖̖͙̯̈́͂̂͝p̵̢̖͇̼̿͋̇̂o̸͎̤̖̗͂͊̂͝š̴̠͓̟͔̺̏̑̄͛e̸̺̊̓̍́ ̸̙̩̻̜̑̆ỉ̶̡̹̰s̸͓̣̰͚̈͂̆̄ ̸̢̹̙̥̾̈́̈́̀̒i̶̤̩̯͓̲͌͐̿̈g̶̡͇̭̜͖̅ņ̶̹̪͊̄ȏ̶͚̇̐͠b̶̯̰̣̪̥̀̂̚̕l̵̬̱̲̟̺̈́̈́ë̵̥̪̞͖́͆̂͜ ̶͕̠͈̣̿̒̓ä̸͎̜̣́̔̇n̷͕̮͑̌͐́͜d̴̘͉͉͂͛͊̾ ̷̠̣̇̚w̶͈̻͆̔̿͝e̴͔̫̖͒ ̴̠̖̻̭͠a̷̺̐̾̄̽̿r̵̩͎̣̯͎͆́e̴̫͒̑̽͜ ̴̫̾̀͋̈d̸̨̫̹̳͌̈̽̇ó̶̫͑̋ǒ̵̡̞͕̆̄m̴̢̥͗̇̏̍͠é̵̢̦̺͈̆̽d̸̘͈̉̕̕ ̸̛̖̇͛̀̐ṭ̷̨̮͋͗o̷̧̜͖̻̊ ̷̳͍̂ä̷̛̻́ ̸̘̼̈́͑͐͘g̸̟̞̝̯̑͝r̷̢̩̻̀͒̃́i̷̮̜͒̉̓̎̚m̷̻̔͠ ̵̢̺̥͒̉e̴̛̪͉̺͋̏̔̅ẍ̸̫̹͔̼̋̽̍̏ị̵̝̲̟̼͒͛̃̄̐s̴̮̏ẗ̴̪̮͙́̅ẹ̵̎̓̓n̴̙͎̗̉͑̑̚͜c̸̛̰̀̐͂́ͅe̷̤͕͚̿͆͗ ̵̺̲̺͛‘̸̝̈́͐̏̏͘t̶͍͉͉̬͌͐̐̋i̶̯͓̻̋̓̑̽̕l̶̡͙͎̯̽̆̆͝͝l̶̲͐͝ ̷̰̆̍͐t̵̗̙̟̓͌ͅh̴̻͑͑͋̀é̸͓̘͔̩̓͘ ̵̡̻̞̓͝D̸͖̲͙̒ą̸̨͇̲̆͌̋̐͘ý̵̳̲̓̌͗̚ ̵̱̎̉͛͠ȏ̸͓̟̠̝͇̍f̷̻̩͈̯̀̓̇̈͝ͅ ̶̮̎̈́̑G̵̘̣̱̝͎͗l̴͈̺̅ò̸̺͖͐̈̌r̷̙̣̙͝ÿ̷̥́̍̎.̶̨͈͖͆̚ ̴̧̢̺̱͝I̷̞̜͍͝ ̵͇̪̄͑̌͗̒h̸͇̺̰̱̝̋̊å̶͚͝d̴̲̙̊ ̷̳̳̳̒́͝s̷͔̪̥̔́i̸̫̟͑͆m̴̡̤̹̞̃͑̈p̸̨̡̭̗̖̀̿̐͊l̶͉̺̺̪̘͌́̏̉͘y̷̟̓̑̂̈ ̴̯̳̭̪̬̚h̵̥̾̈ơ̵̫̈́̅͠p̴̨͇̘̮̬͝ẻ̵͍̯̬̰d̸̹̜̻̘̦́̉͊ ̵̞̇̏͐̚t̸͍̰͔͗͋͝o̷̡̬̫̳̣̅̎͂̓͠ ̴̻̺͇̯͙̽́͌̌d̶͕̬̬̈́ë̵̢̱̹̞́̓́͒͝l̶̞͙̃̀̊̈́̑i̴̧͚͚̪̪̓͛͒v̵̠͊̿̂̚͜ȅ̷̜͙͇̜̔r̴̘͎͎̥͎̀̀͒̄ ̷̧͕͉̣͑̎f̵̗͇̙̻̃͝ǫ̷̥͒̎͌̀ŗ̷̝̾̈́́́͗ ̷̘͛͝ó̷̡͈̩͎͆͘n̷̗̙̳̎̓̈́c̴̜̬͒̕e̴͔̬̾͗̑͝ ̵͖̖͈̺̔̉̑͛ͅΚ̸̥͎̝̥͛ά̵̭̔̔ι̷̧̢͓̲͗ρ̵̣̿ό̷̩̫͔̔̿̌͝ς̶̪͎̈̀ ̷̨͔͉̭̣̈̍n̶͇̲͔̻̦̓o̵̗̠̒t̶͇͓̎͒̀̈ ̸̳͆̔̊͐Κ̸̬͙̍̌͐͛α̴̰̿͛τ̵̻̈́̉̔́͝α̴̧͇̠̿͑͘σ̸̨̘̼̘̣͊̈̕̚͝τ̴̫̒̆͊ρ̶̧͖̏ο̷̻̻̺̉̎φ̴̢͈̰̬̄̈́ή̵̛̥́̌…̶̮̞͈̈͝ ̴̺͗͗͝͝n̵̼̥̖̱̳͂͂̍͛̀o̷̡̺̬̰̩̊̓̃̄̕ ̵̨͇͓͉͂͜m̴̳̟͔͗̿a̷̧̩̖͕͎̾̀͋t̶̤͍̋͜ṫ̶̢̘̗̖̪͑̕e̷̼̙͗͝ͅr̴̘̭̺̣̹̂̾͐͛̌.̷̢͖̥̼͑ ̸̨̆͌̅̓S̷̨̛͖͙͎͂ͅh̶̖̫̹̰̞͑̀é̶̛͔͓̰͋͗ͅ ̸̛͚̺̐h̸̨̹͒͠ǎ̵̢͚̦̀̕s̸̛͉̰̤̓̈̆͝ ̸̢̘̥̓p̸̥͌̓͜͜r̶̻̭̺̰̣̊̊̈́â̵̞̞̈́͒y̴̲͕͠ě̵̗͗͂͜d̷͍̗̄́͒ ̷̺͕͉̘̣̌t̶͙̳̬̳̹̃̾͘ó̶̧̺̺̪͈̽ ̶̖̅̾̃̐͝H̸̩̥̳͔͚͒̏́í̸̧̲͖͈ṁ̸̡͖̊͛ ̷̧̡͚̰̏a̵͙̹͈̣̓ň̴̼̹͕͚̿d̴̹͎̲̄͒̕ ̷̡̜̠̗̓͋͋̇Ï̸͕̈́̔͝ ̸͕̣̣̾h̷͖͗́͗̋̒a̷͎̮͖̽̉̆̎̂v̸̘̣̩̈́͑͝e̶̲̺̗̎̂͘̚͝ ̸̡͙̦̱͒͂c̶̲̭͒̎ơ̸͖̫̥̯͂͜m̶̠̤̑͂̆e̶͚͈͉͙͛ ̷̓͠ͅt̷̫͑͒o̵̢̊̓͆̉ ̷̭̙̍̆̐̿̚ḍ̶͇̄̏́̕ę̷̽̉̓̀ͅļ̵̱̯̳̮͛͂̈́͗͐i̷̭̘̯̭͋̔̇̆v̴̼͗̄̊͌ȩ̶͖̳̑͐̈̕ͅr̴͙̔ ̶̙̓̀i̸̧̼̫͇͐͜͝͠ẗ̵͖̭́̍̎̚ ̷̜̘̣̈́̿̓̃͝t̷̞̂͗̈́̒̕o̵̡̮̰̅̈́̋ ̸̤̫̥̺́̑̾̔̒ţ̵̠̠̹̮̔͂h̶̡̢̳̺̃e̴̬͍͗ẽ̵̥̹̤̇.̵͙̰͑͊͜”
“P̶̣̘͊̀̎͂̎r̵̤̈̓̈ȯ̴̩̖̣̟̬̋̊͛́c̷͓͔̮̮̙̀ḷ̷̜̤̗̓͐ạ̵̼̊̈́̈́ï̴̤͊̀̍m̷̡̟̬̎̏̚ ̴̨̓̈́͜ͅt̸͉̭̺̿̆̑͋̊h̶̨̰̪̿̈͐͋y̴̫͍̙̘̜̿̀͛͊͝ ̵̝̋̎p̶̘͎̤͙̌̎̈́ĺ̸̮̾͂e̷͓̙̎̅ḁ̴̟͈͔́̉̑͠ ̸̧̹̎͆͆t̶̳͎͉̋͋͝h̴̳̉̚e̴̙͓͉̱͉͊̏̇n̵̝̋̄͝!̸͉̘͖͒͝”
“T̷͕͠ͅḥ̷̩̽ì̵̜̗͗s̸̮͌̐ ̶̘̳͑g̶͎̈i̶͓̣̍͋r̶̩̥̐l̵̞̰̇͂,̴̠̮̽ ̶͉͔̌Ŝ̴͍̜̂ä̶̗r̴͍̞̂i̶͍͓̿͐n̶̯̟̂ą̷̀́,̸̡́ ̶̠͍̆s̸̻̝̑́h̴̤͓̀͘e̸̙̒͘ ̸̩̻̋s̶̭̍ͅl̶͈̞̐͋e̷̥̲̓e̷̖͒p̷͖̿̉s̶̖̻̊ ̴̢͍̐t̶̘̺̾̌h̴̬̳͑̉o̸̞̎̾u̸͎̅g̴̮̜͠͠h̷̯̍ ̸͕͆͝s̵̩̿͠ḫ̶͉̕ḛ̴̈ ̶̧͆͝h̴̞̦͗ő̶̖̦͘p̸̣͂e̶̖̪͗̀s̶̤̉ ̵̟͛t̸̰̿̑ͅo̸͔͛ ̸̢̜̀ẅ̷͚̱́a̵͓̒͂ͅl̸̦̺̀̈́k̴̦̮̇͛,̴̳̱̒́ ̵̨̰̏̇d̴͇̬̚î̵̧̟͗ě̴̙̝̐ṡ̸͕ ̸̖͒͂ť̸͉̱̽ḫ̷̆̑ó̴̺̋u̴̪̒g̷̰̍͝h̷͖̔̿ ̸̱̐̾ş̷͙́͝h̶̡̠̅͑ę̴́̈́ ̵͙̈ḩ̸̻̃o̵̡͋̅p̶̛͍̓e̴̛̝͈͂s̴̖͑ͅ ̷̨͗ṯ̷̀ȍ̵͕ ̸͙̓l̴͍̂̀i̶͔̱͒̒v̵̱̱͑ē̶̜̮͠ ̶͉̊–̵͔̃̈ ̷͚́́ä̵̗́͝n̶̨̘̿̀d̴̡̙͂͊ ̷̻̓̋Í̷̲̰ ̴̞̍ḧ̶̠͠o̵͕̺̓p̷͍̺͂e̶̟͒̿ ̴̩͑͋ṭ̴̺̋́ơ̴͔̜͒o̷̤̐͆,̶̙̇ ̵̣̅f̸̬̓o̶͎̘͝ŗ̶̦̿ ̵͂̐ͅI̷͎̰͋̔ ̶̦̃̄h̵̻͠a̵͓̙̎v̸̱͓̍ě̴̝ ̴̨̦͆s̴̨͘e̵͖̩̐ẹ̷̀͠n̵͈͝ ̵̢͠h̸͓̳́e̴̼̮̎̒r̸̺͕͂͛ ̶̮̗̓̋b̵̦̝͐e̷̙͇͑͛ ̸̦͔͌ķ̷̄ị̵͐n̷̝̑͠d̴̳̐͒ ̷̖̈͋i̷̝͐n̷̹̂ ̶̝̐s̶̭͂̄ͅp̷̱̏ị̴͈̽̄t̵͓̪̓é̶͓͠ ̵̱̹̊͗ó̵͎f̶̧͇͠ ̴̠̬̋i̵̮̬̅͠t̴͓͆.̷̣͍̓ ̴̺̳̌͗I̷̛̞͊s̸͚͊̎ ̸̗̤͋H̵̼́̒ȅ̴̡̬ ̶̬̼͝n̶̠̗̉o̵̞̝̊t̴̻̚͝ ̵̤͈͗̐t̶̤̆h̷͍̏́e̸͍̜͌ ̷̻̏m̸͇͉͊̋a̵̭͛͝n̶̘̅ ̸̫̎o̵͚͝f̷̧̾ ̷̬̅m̶̗̺͆̎ḭ̸̼͂̑r̶͎̣̊ą̶̬͋c̴̙̀͝ĺ̵͈̆e̴̫͂s̵͕̃?̸͔̋”
“V̸͎̯͍̈́̀e̷͇̥̟͈̐͛̏̔͆̏̊r̴̩͎̄͊̌͊̚ͅý̷̢̝͙̜̬̘̗̆ ̷̡͍͂͂̒w̷̩̓̈́̏̀̚ę̸̻̳̘̖̳̱̹͊͗̀̅̓̿̾͠l̴̢̜̤̠̠̮̊̒̕ͅl̴̟̄̿̈́ͅ.̵̛̩̼̦͉͆͐͆̆̊͋̈́ ̶̡̧̛̼͈̭͙̿̕G̵͉͍̓̎̈͒̈́̚o̸͚̤͛̊̇͛͑͘!̷͍̪͇͕̳͈͋̈́́̉͜͠ ̷̛̝̘͎͚͋̈̐͠͠Ṣ̶̄͋͝h̴̡̰̫̫͉͗̿̏͐̓͜͠e̵̛̺͓̙̗̼̫̬ ̷̧̲͆̈̔̓͌̓ͅi̵̛͔̤̭̳̯̔̋̅̄͂s̴̩͙͍̜̈́̔̔͋̈ ̷̠̞͉͉͍̲͂̈́̎͑̏̕͜͝ĥ̸̬̗͙̎͂̏͊̀͝e̶̩͂a̵̢̝̬̒̄͛͆̑̀l̶̢̩̦̟͇̩͘͜e̴̗̫͛̍͛̾̕͠ḑ̷̢̖̝̫̬̠̑̾̑.̸͚̥̮͍̻̻̿̊̌́͛͋͋ ̸͙͓̼̲͚̭͔̌͂͗̓͋͝B̶̧̢̢̩̫͓̻̋͑͗͗̕͝ų̸̡̻̞̙̥̪͌̂ṱ̸̥͕̠̫̯̈́̊͝͝͝ ̴̧̭̜͎̦̠͉̠̆h̸̡͔̪̦͎̼̳̆̌̎͆̏͒͌̕ͅỏ̷̧̧͚̻͕̈́̾͑͆͜l̸̨̩̥̐̄̄̏̈́͌͘d̵͕̟̞̲̾̽ ̷̫̺͈̞͑̂ş̴̣͓̲́̃͂͛̏͠t̷̼̘̀̔̎̓͜e̸̟͖͎͔̩̿̍̄̽̃͂̐͝ä̷̡̦́̇͑ḑ̸͙̫̳̻̠̦̋̈́̑f̸̢̛̞̭̜̲̀̕a̷͓̜̲͈̪̟̣̹͋̄̏̔ş̷̬̼̞̮̪̽̽́̿͠t̴̢̬̪͚̻͙͚̫̅̎́̕ ̴͙̱͒͐t̵̢̡͇͉͖̟̹̟̔͋̀̑̅̕͠ǭ̸̘̺̭̌̈͠ ̶͔̣̇̽͗͒̓͑y̵̡͇̺̳̤͇̰͑̈́͐ó̵͖͇̯͊̊ư̵̪̰̼̩͑̃̏̎r̵̜̱̤̗̟̪̅́̑̔̔̔ ̶̱̜͖̙̪̞̅͋̄̌̄̕ḏ̵̹̫͔̭̲͔̃̍̓̂͋͋̚ǘ̸̗͒͐t̵̨̑̾̆̍y̷͔̟̲̘͓͛̓̍̅.”
Doctor Gorou Amamiya looked at the results of the roentgen again and compared them to the other, repeated scans. This was no malfunction of the system, nor a temporary regression of the disease. Sarina, the girl sitting on the bed behind them, a feat she hadn’t been able to accomplish for some weeks, was healed.
“A miracle,” Gorou said.
“No other way to describe it,” said Dr. Tamashii, their resident pediatric oncologist and the man actually responsible for Sarina’s treatment. The girl herself was also somewhat subdued, gazing at her hands, still in disbelief. “The cancer… is gone?”
The oncologist turned to her. “It stands in conflict with everything I know about this type of cancers, but yes. As good as gone. We’ll keep you here for a few weeks for an abundance of caution, but I have no doubt that you are healed, Tendouji-san. Congratulations.”
At that Sarina smiled. “A miracle. Indeed a miracle.” A newfound determination found itself in her bright blue eyes, as she looked at Gorou.
“Sensei! I wish to go to the roof.” She said. “Of course, I’ll get your...”
“With my own legs, Sensei!”
“Are you sure? You were only just healed. You should stay in bed.”
“I can. I know I can. And you’ll be there to catch me if I fall.”
With a sigh, he relented and with him holding her in case she fell, they headed to the elevator.
Initially, Sarina’s steps were light and unsure, so fearful and fragile she tripped on the even floor of the hospital a few times, only for Gorou to catch her, but quickly long dormant muscle memory returns. By the time they reached the last stretch of floor leading to the doors of the roof she was walking confidently, if slowly and cautiously, as the doctor held onto her still.
As they walked, Sarina asked “You remember your promises, right Sensei?”
“Of course, Sarina-chan. I am sure you have a bright future ahead of you. And when you are an idol, I will be there to cheer you every step of the way.”
“And the other one?” The girl turned to look at him intently
“Haha...” he rubs the back of his head as Sarina pouts at him. “Sensei...”‘Damn him and his big mouth’.He thought and pat her head with a smile, before pushing open the heavy door for her.
The day was appropriately sunny, with scarce a cloud barring the spring sun from casting light over the green mountains of Mizayaki. Sarina went through the doors, and let go of Gorou. With trembling steps, she walked forward and breathed in. After a moment of silence she rose her arms to the sky and begin to chuckle which grew into a full blown, melodious laughter of joy. She spun around, her eyes full of tears, resplendent because of the happiness they carried to the world.
“I am alive,” she nearly shouted, “I am alive and I shall live. I shall sing and dance, and love and be loved, for I shall live. For I was born not to perish but to live! Haha...”
Gorou could do little more than look at her frolic and ramble. Times like this really made being a doctor worth it. Suddenly he noticed that the usual crows were missing and the roof was nearly ringed by white doves.
“How strange” he whispered, before the birds took flight circling around them both. Sarina noticed this too, stopping to look in wonder, as the sun reflected of the pure feathers of the birds. And then, one of them landed on her hand.
“Sarina! Careful!” He reached, yet the dove was not frightened. The girl giggled.
“Oh I don’t think they will hurt me.” she said, petting the bird, as it cooed.
Gorou was still cautious. “Still, I have not seen such birds in these parts before. Where did they come from. I would be hesitant to think this before today, but perhaps it is a portent?”
“A portent?” Sarina mused, turning to look to the horizon. “Perhaps. But who then is the god who flies on the wings of doves?”
The last few weeks of Sarina’s stay passed by in a flash. Her parents came on the first flight from Tokyo. The Reunion was tearful and even bittersweet. Gorou had a desire to reprimand the Tendouji couple, but the joy on Sarina’s face held him back. And, as the weeks dragged on, with the parents remaining in Miyazaki while Dr. Tamashii ran every test in quadruplicate, he never found the will. It wasn’t his place nor his time – not really. Sarina’s parents spent nearly every free moment with her, and he felt he shoudln’t disturb them, though she did have a nurse drag him over to listen to B-Komachi’s new single together when that came out.
He tried to give back the Ai keychain she gave him on her would be deathbed, but the girl refused.
“It’s yours, Sensei. For everything. And to remember me by! I may not be gone gone, but I will be gone!” she giggled at the pun. “And Ai too. She’ll be a link between us!”
“I suppose so. Thank you too, Sarina. For everything.”
“I hope I wasn’t a burden...”
“You? Never.”
At that she looked at him, before turning away, a slight blush coloring her cheeks. “Fool of a doctor!”
But soon enough it was over. Sarina gave him a tearful goodbye hug, and Marina and her husband thanked him and the other doctors their thanks, and drove off in the car they rented.
Gorou had the feeling that a chapter in his life had concluded then – yet easily enough the routine of his life continued. Old clients, new clients, a growing reputation as an unrepentant idol otaku. But seeing Sarina healed gave him a renewed vigor for his work.
As for the girl herself, with her having to study very hard to catch up with several years of missed education and the usual workload of an OB/GYN left little time for idle chit chat with people many hundreds of miles away. But such is life, he supposed. All things pass.
That is, until one fresh July evening next year he is ambushed into a hug by a much haler looking bundle of energy, who he doesn’t recognize at first, the pink hat covering her bald head now replaced by luscious shoulder length hair, and grown as teenagers do, but the yell of “Sensei!” makes the girls identity clear.
In this manner the Tendouji family re-entered his life.
