Kono Monogatari O Kimi Ni Sasagu - Volume 1 Chapter 3.8

It had been over ten hours since Yuto opened the package.

He had spent the whole night repeatedly reading the letters, and before he knew it, it was almost noon. Now, he sat staring blankly at the ten letters laid out on the table.

The room was filled with the profound stillness of a snow-covered landscape.

Those ten letters encapsulated several years of Kotoha’s life.

Her love for stories, her drive inspired by her terminal illness, and her efforts toward her goal of becoming an editor.

It matched Yuto’s imagination perfectly—except for one crucial difference.

“Why…”

To an outsider, it might seem like a minor difference.

But to Yuto, it was overwhelmingly significant.

At that moment, the vibration of his smartphone shattered the silence.

He flinched.

Checking the notification, he saw an unexpected name displayed.

He hesitated briefly before pressing the answer button.

A terrible premonition gripped him.

“Hello?”

“Oh, Hiiragi-kun!? It’s Hikawa!”

The urgency in her voice made his body tense. Then,

“Kotoha-chan…”

Hikawa Shoko’s words made Yuto gasp.

“Natsume… what happened to her…?”

His voice trembled.

He realized his worst fears were about to come true.

“I’m in Tokyo for an errand, so I came to visit her, but then Kotoha-chan…”

Normally calm, Hikawa was greatly flustered. Her words were incoherent, adding to his anxiety and fear, which felt like cold water flooding his body.

“Hiiragi?”

Suddenly, the voice on the call changed. It was a low, calm male voice.

“President…?”

“Yes.”

The drama club president, Watanabe, confirmed briefly and continued. Though calm, there was urgency in his tone.

“We were in Tokyo for an errand. During our free time, we met up and went to visit Natsume-san at the hospital. But before we could see her, her condition suddenly worsened, and she collapsed. She has stabilized for now, but she hasn’t regained consciousness yet…”

Watanabe explained in one breath and took a moment to calm his breathing.

“…Her condition seems very serious. Even if she regains consciousness, she’ll need surgery within a few days to survive. Her mother told me.”

“Please come quickly, Hiiragi-kun…”

Watanabe’s voice was joined by Hikawa’s desperate plea. Yuto bit his lip.

“I’m coming right away.”

Yuto ended the call, threw on a coat over his loungewear, grabbed his wallet and bike keys, and rushed out of the room.

Immediately, he was hit by piercing cold.

Outside, the snow continued to fall softly but thickly, covering everything in white since yesterday.

The distant mountains were enveloped in a white shroud, and snow had piled on the asphalt.

But he couldn’t worry about that.

He mounted his bike and pedaled towards the station, about ten minutes away.

Ignoring the protesting creaks of the frozen chain, he pushed the pedals with all his might.

Snowflakes stung his exposed face and hands, causing sharp pain. It felt more like hail than snow.

The snow entered his eyes and nose without mercy.

“Damn…”

Ignoring the pain, he bowed his head to maintain visibility and breathability, pushing forward.

Fortunately, hardly any cars were on the road.

“Damn it…”

The letters he had read repeatedly floated in his mind.

He could almost hear Kotoha’s voice in his head.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Natsume Kotoha.”

That was her very first letter.

“I read your ‘The Blue Moon Flower Field’ and decided to write a letter. This is my first time writing to an author, so I apologize if it’s strange. I’m sorry in advance! Actually, my mother recommended your novel a while ago, but I didn’t read it right away. Knowing you wrote it in middle school, I thought it wouldn’t be much. I underestimated it.”

Her words, a mix of immaturity and precociousness, reflected her straightforwardness. At that time, she was around the second year of middle school.

“But I was wrong. I regretted not reading it sooner. I was so moved by your novel. I’ve never cried and laughed so much before. I can’t express my feelings well, it’s frustrating.”

She then described her favorite scenes, characters, and lines with such passion that it seemed she had etched every word into her heart.

But imagining the foundation of that passion made his chest tighten.

His heart ached more than his frostbitten fingers and ears.

She must have already known about her illness back then.

“I read ‘The Sunflower Sundial’ and ‘The Bridge of Words We Crossed,’ so I’m writing you again. Both are wonderful works—”

Kotoha’s letters continued. Each was a thick fan letter filled with detailed and passionate reviews. The postmarks on the envelopes were a month or two apart.

Her reading comprehension, supported by an immense amount of reading, sometimes even surprised Yuto as the author. The middle schooler Kotoha deciphered and skillfully articulated the intricacies of his stories—intricacies he hadn’t consciously considered.

However, about a year later, the tone of her letters changed slightly.

The reason was simple.

Natsume Kotoha had read through all of Fuyutsuki Haruhiko’s works within a year.

So, her letters began to reflect thoughts on the works she had already read. She repeatedly read the same books and wrote letters about new insights she gained.

Each letter showed a deeper engagement with the stories than the previous ones, Yuto realized.

She listened to every word the characters said, noticed their smallest gestures, and delved into their inner worlds, immersing herself in the stories as if she were experiencing them firsthand.

It seemed as though she walked through the worlds Yuto created with his words, living the stories through her own body. Her letters conveyed that depth of feeling.

“Idiot…”

Yuto couldn’t help but mutter through his labored breathing.

Snow pelted his mouth relentlessly.

Snow stuck to his face, freezing his tears and snot.

As he pedaled the frozen bike, the creaking sound was swallowed by the snow-covered world.

At first, he couldn’t understand.

Kotoha had limited time left, and she must have known that.

“Looking forward to reading your next work.”

Despite that, she reread Fuyutsuki Haruhiko’s existing works.

And persistently sent letters.

He didn’t think it was a waste.

But he wondered why.

“Idiot…!”

Shouting caused his frostbitten lips to crack, filling his mouth with the taste of blood.

But he shouted again. He couldn’t help but shout.

“To Fuyutsuki-sensei,

How have you been? I’m writing this letter to thank you. So there are no reviews this time. Sorry about that.”

That was the last letter Kotoha sent.

From about a year ago.

The tenth fan letter.

“I’m very grateful to you, but to properly express it, I must write about myself. Please don’t think I’m being too serious.”

“I’ve had a brain illness for years.”

“My friends disappeared, my parents fought, and they divorced.”

“I read books to escape from reality.”

“For me, books were tools to escape the reality I hated.”

“But even escaping reality had its limits,”

“I was thinking about ending my life.”

“I found your novels at a hopeless time.”

“Your stories gently accompanied my wounded self.”

“They showed me a brightly lit world while I was in the depths of darkness.”

“Your stories gave me the strength to live when I wanted to die.”

“They gave me the hope to face forward again when I had given up on everything.”

“Thank you.”

“Thank you for giving me the courage to step into the future.”

“I’m working hard towards my goal now.”

“I want to become a novel editor.”

“I want to deliver the stories that saved me to someone in the world.”

“One day, I want to be your editor. That’s my goal now.”

“I look forward to reading your new work.”

“And if it’s not too much to ask, I look forward to creating a new work with you.”

“So please.”

“So please, don’t stop writing.”

It was different.

tln : i’m so sorry guys,i shed so many tears translating this. I’m very passionate about every book I translate. this time I, shieru translator, cried a lot because of this book… i’m sorry if I’ve always been lacking in translation. i hope you guys enjoy this work and don’t forget to give 5 stars on novelupdates.