Kono Monogatari O Kimi Ni Sasagu - Volume 1 Chapter 3.4

Kotoha’s eyes widened in surprise. After a few seconds of silence, she gave a wry smile.

“I told you. I don’t want to live with the risk of a language disorder. Even if it’s Fuyutsuki Haruhiko’s new work, it won’t change my mind.”

“Just promise.”

Kotoha’s eyes widened, then she gave a troubled smile.

“You’re being pushy, Senpai. But… alright.”

It was a short word, but it was enough for them.

A few days later, Kotoha transferred to the Tokyo hospital.

***

The sound of typing echoed in the eight-tatami room.

It wasn’t rhythmic, nor did it pause—just a steady, continuous sound like autumn rain.

In a room with curtains closed even during the day, Yuto stared at the blue-white glow of his laptop screen without blinking.

A month had passed since Kotoha transferred, and October was nearing its end.

During that time, Yuto kept writing the novel.

Day and night, with little sleep, he continuously typed. Besides shopping trips to the local supermarket for snacks and food, he stayed in the room.

He wasn’t going to school. He had informed them of taking time off due to health issues.

Initially, that was a fabricated excuse, but now it was true.

He lacked sleep and nutrition, his back and waist were stiff, and his eyes were dry and sore.

Yet, his mind was strangely clear.

Words formed in his mind before he could think, characters acted, and the story moved forward forcefully. It felt like his peak days as Wintermoon Haruhiko. No, it might exceed that.

The gap he felt a month ago when he resumed writing was completely gone.

The day Kotoha pushed him away, Yuto’s resolve was set.

He cast out the doubts and anxiety that had hindered his writing.

All he could do was pour all his energy into writing.

He decided to write at the cost of everything.

However, this method was a double-edged sword.

It was almost like he was writing at the cost of his life.

“Water…”

His voice, hoarse and unfamiliar, startled him.

When did he last drink water? Or eat? Or sleep?

Realizing his fatigue, his body felt incredibly heavy.

Even his typing fingers couldn’t move properly, twitching involuntarily.

He couldn’t continue writing like this.

Crawling to the refrigerator, he opened the door and widened his eyes.

It was empty.

“Damn.”

As he tried to stand up to go shopping, his legs gave out, and he collapsed on the spot.

The coldness of the floor pressed against his cheek.

He couldn’t get up.

“I still need to… The story isn’t good enough… I need to write more… I can’t collapse here…”

As his vision blurred, the doorbell rang.

But he had no strength to respond.

The doorbell rang again.

Lying helpless on the floor, he heard loud knocking, followed by a male voice.

“Hey, Hiiragi! Are you there? It’s me, Watanabe! Open up!”

Watanabe—the drama club president. Surprised by the unexpected visitor, Yuto managed to croak out a barely audible response.

“The door… it’s open…”

The door swung open, and fresh air rushed in. Watanabe, looking alarmed, ran over to Yuto.

“Hey, are you okay!?”

It took about thirty minutes for Yuto to regain his composure after Watanabe arrived.

“You sure you don’t need an ambulance?”

Yuto nodded while sipping a jelly drink.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m just a bit tired.”

“People who are just a bit tired don’t collapse on the floor…”

The exasperated yet concerned voice belonged to Hikawa Shoko, the vice-president. She had come with Watanabe.

Yuto sat across from them at the rectangular low table. On the table were sports drinks, energy drinks, snacks, bread, and rice balls—things Watanabe had brought.

They were worried about Yuto, who didn’t show up to see Kotoha off when she transferred hospitals and had been missing school for almost a month due to illness, with no contact. That’s why Watanabe and Shoko came to visit him.

“Thanks, you saved me.”

Even though he said he was fine, his body still felt heavy, and he had a terrible headache. He needed more rest to recover fully. The accumulated strain from the past month had taken its toll. If they hadn’t come, things might have been worse.

“But I’m a bit surprised… I expected Shoko-san, but the president coming to see me, that’s unexpected.”

To be honest, he thought he wasn’t very well-liked.

“We owe you. Thanks to you, we did well in the regional competition and advanced to the national competition.”

“Really… congratulations.”

Yuto had been so focused on writing that he forgot about the competition. The regional event was at the end of September, and now they were practicing for the national competition. That was good news.

“Hey, Hiiragi-kun, did something happen with Kotoha-chan…? You didn’t see her off when she transferred, and you suddenly started missing school. When I asked Kotoha-chan on the phone, she dodged the question and didn’t tell me anything…”

Yuto hesitated on how to respond.

It would be easy to brush it off as nothing, but that would be too disrespectful to these two who came to check on him and saved him. However, explaining the situation would delve too deeply into his and, more importantly, Kotoha’s personal matters.

He didn’t mind sharing his own story. Having overcome his past, he no longer needed to hide anything. But what about Kotoha’s illness? Had she honestly told them about her condition and the reason for her transfer?

Regardless, worrying wouldn’t solve anything.

“…How much did Kotoha tell you? There are things I can’t say.”

Watanabe and Shoko exchanged a somber look.

“She said it’s a brain disease and that her condition isn’t good… that’s what we heard.”

Shoko’s sad voice hung in the air.

Shoko was friends with Kotoha, so the revelation about her illness must have been a big shock.

“It’s just me and Shoko who know. That’s partly why we came.”

Watanabe spoke calmly, but there was an unmistakable undertone of deep concern.

If Kotoha trusted them enough to share her situation, then Yuto felt he should explain the circumstances.

“Kotoha and I—”

Yuto began explaining to Watanabe and Shoko.

How Kotoha had persistently urged Yuto to write a novel.

That Yuto had once been a writer under the name Fuyutsuki Haruhiko, but had quit due to online backlash. He also explained how he had continuously refused Kotoha’s requests because of that.

Just as he said this, Watanabe cut in, surprised.

“Wait a minute. Did you say Fuyutsuki Haruhiko? That one?”

Next to him, Shoko looked at Yuto with a mixture of shock and confusion, nodding vigorously.

“…Yeah, probably that Fuyutsuki Haruhiko.”

“No way…”

Watanabe groaned and looked up at the ceiling.

“So you’re a real author…?”

Shoko’s face also tightened with astonishment.

“But it makes sense. That script was clearly not something a high schooler would write…”

“…Sorry for not saying anything.”

To Yuto’s apology, Watanabe shook his head.

“You don’t need to apologize. Everyone has things they don’t want to share, especially with circumstances like yours. Besides, we trusted your script and your commitment to it. Whether you’re a professional writer or not doesn’t really matter to us. Though it’s a surprise.”

Shoko nodded in agreement, “Yeah, that’s right.”

“Thanks. Knowing that makes me feel a bit better.”

Realizing he was more trusted than he thought, Yuto felt a wave of gratitude and relief.

“Sorry for interrupting. So, what happened next?”

“Oh, right…”

Yuto continued explaining the remaining events.

How Kotoha helped him find the will to write again after the cultural festival performance.

But struggling with the gap, he sought advice from Kotoha, who encouraged him to write alone. They made a promise not to see each other until the book was done.

“You made that kind of promise…”

“You two have such intense passion for creating… it’s almost scary.”

Then, Shoko glanced at the stack of papers in the corner of the room.

“…Hey, Hiiragi-kun. I’ve been wondering, what’s that pile of papers?”

Shoko’s gaze was directed at the thick stacks of paper, each a few centimeters thick.

“It’s the manuscript. I’ve done a lot of revisions this past month…”

“Revisions… How much did you write to make such a huge pile…?”

“I think I’m on the fortieth draft now.”

“Forty…”

Shoko was speechless.

“I thought rewriting from start to finish repeatedly would help me regain my sense.”