Chapter 188: Chapter 187 - Fifty Years Later
Time had never needed permission to move forward.
It just kept going.
The small counseling clinic that once saw the nervous Kuro welcome his first ever patient in there had developed into a reputable facility that was recognized far and wide. Countless individuals had walked through those halls during the decades past. Some with sadness weighing them down. Others were burdened with fear, loneliness, and uncertainty.
Most left with fewer problems.
Because Kuro hadn’t managed to solve everything.
But because he had listened.
Just as someone had listened to him before.
Meanwhile, the hospital itself had undergone a transformation too.
Some old facilities had made place to new buildings.
Medicine had undergone changes thanks to advancing technology.
And the young doctors who once walked hesitantly behind Yui in the halls had developed into department heads themselves.
To them, she was not just Dr.Kurogane .
She was a doctor who knew everyone by their name.
The doctor who stayed long after her shift was over.
The doctor who refused to hide compassion in the bustle of daily routine.
Eventually...
It was time for retirement.
Not an end, but a new start.
At Kuro’s final day in the clinic, the waiting hall was rather crowded with people.
Former patients, young counselors who had once worked under his supervision, and even the thirty-year-old secretary were all there to give him their final goodbye.
"You helped me when I thought life was hopeless."
"I decided to become a counselor because of you."
"You showed me how much can be accomplished with just listening."
He politely bowed to every single one of them.
"I learned a lot from you."
And after everyone left, he was left alone in his office.
The bookshelf was almost empty.
His desk that had seen countless notes left clear from any paperwork.
He turned off the light.
Shut the door.
And smiled.
---
Unlike his retirement, Yui’s ceremony was rather noisy.
There were doctors of several generations gathered to congratulate her.
A young physician smiled.
"I still remember being terrified during my first surgery."
"You told me, ’Do not aim to become a perfect doctor. Just aim never to stop caring.’"
Another man added,
"I have passed the same advice to every intern since then."
Yui laughed.
"So, my lectures never stopped."
"They never will."
And before leaving for the last time, she walked through the whole hospital.
From the pediatrics ward to the emergency department and up to the garden where exhausted residents had often gathered to eat lunch quickly.
And on the bench where, many years ago...
A young psychology student had brought her food and listened quietly.
She smiled at the thought.
"...Thank you."
No one would know whether she was thanking the hospital...
Or fate itself...
Even she didn’t know.
---
More years went by.
Their daughter grew up to be a woman with her own family.
Once again, there was a child laughing in their house.
But this time...
It was laughter of grandchildren.
One little boy proudly declared,
"Grandpa, I listened to my friend today instead of arguing!"
Kuro smiled.
"How was that?"
"He smiled."
Kuro ruffled his hair.
"That means you did well."
While another grandchild was sitting close to Yui with a toy medical set in his hands.
"Grandma, it’s your turn."
Yui laughed.
"Well, I guess I am the patient today."
After quite a thorough examination involving a plastic stethoscope...
The little girl nodded.
"You are healthy."
"What wonderful news."
Everyone laughed.
---
One day, after the grandchildren went home, the house was quiet again.
Just as it used to be so many years before.
Except now...
It was a peaceful quietness.
The porch overlooked a small garden that they tended to together for the whole period of their married life.
Plants bloomed all year round.
The maple tree was growing taller.
And the swing Kuro built for their daughter stood right below it.
Although it was rarely used nowadays.
---
The sun started to move low beyond the distant hills.
Golden light painted the sky.
Yui settled comfortably in her favorite chair with a blanket covering her legs.
Her silver hair gleamed slightly in the evening light.
Kuro took his usual spot next to her.
Not needing to say anything.
---
Several minutes later, Yui smiled.
"Do you remember..."
She looked at him.
"...our first apartment?"
Kuro chuckled.
"The one where you burned the breakfast?"
"I still say that the pan was faulty."
"The pan survived."
"My pride didn’t."
They laughed together.
---
"And the tiny house?"
she continued.
"The one filled with boxes."
"You decided that one room would become children’s room."
Her cheeks blushed slightly.
"I was right."
"You were."
---
She looked towards the sunset.
"...We lived an ordinary life."
Kuro shook his head gently.
"No."
"We lived a wonderful one."
---
Another few minutes of comfortable silence came.
Then Kuro spoke.
"I used to think that it would be the big moments that I’ll treasure the most."
"Our wedding."
"The day we got engaged."
"The day our daughter was born."
Yui smiled.
"But?"
He looked at the garden.
"...It’s the ordinary moments that I’ll remember most."
"Making breakfast."
"Waiting for you outside the hospital."
"Going home."
"Reading together."
"Watching rain."
She nodded slowly.
"...Me too."
"The extraordinary moments are precious."
"But..."
"It’s the ordinary moments that silently turn into a lifetime."
---
The evening wind moved through the garden.
Birds flew to their nests.
Somewhere near, kids laughed loudly.
Yui took Kuro’s hand.
After fifty years...
It still felt familiar.
Comfortable.
As if there was nothing between them anymore.
"I’ve been thinking."
she whispered.
"Hm?"
"We spent our lives trying to heal other people."
"We did."
"Do you think we helped?"
Kuro smiled.
"I think..."
"We weren’t meant to heal everyone."
"We were meant to ensure no one has to endure his/her pain alone."
Yui’s eyes softened.
"...That sounds like something you’d say to your patients."
"It probably is."
She smiled quietly.
"I’m glad you never stopped being yourself."
---
The sun descended further.
The golden light gradually gave way to amber.
Yui lay back onto Kuro’s shoulder.
"I’m getting sleepy."
"You always do during the sunsets."
"I have earned it."
"You have."
Her fingers held his hand tightly.
Slowly...
Incomperceptibly...
Her breathing became soft and steady.
She was falling asleep.
Just as she once fell asleep in the hospital garden decades ago.
Kuro looked at her sleeping face.
Age had made lines appear around her eyes.
Silver had replaced the black in her hair.
Time had changed many things.
But somehow...
When she was smiling in her dreams...
He could see the young woman who once nervously confessed beneath the falling snow.
The woman who waited for him.
Who laughed with him.
Who grieved beside him.
Who built a family with him.
Who chose him.
Every day of their life.
The evening became cool.
Without waking her, Kuro carefully covered her with a blanket.
Looking at the horizon for one last time, he returned to her.
Quiet smile appeared on his lips.
"So many years..."
he whispered.
"And somehow..."
"They still weren’t enough."
He gently squeezed her hand.
"Thank you..."
"...For choosing to spend your life with me."
Half-asleep, Yui didn’t open her eyes.
She only smiled faintly...
And held his hand more firmly.
The sun disappeared behind the horizon.
Day became twilight.
The porch fell silent.
The garden swayed quietly in the evening wind.
Two lives.
Fifty years.
Countless people healed.
Countless ordinary moments shared.
And through all seasons...
Their hands never let go.
A few days later, the whole family came to visit Kuro and Yui.
Their daughter came first with some dessert that she made herself.
Then the grandchildren ran in the door like they used to.
"Grandpa!"
"Grandma!"
Suddenly, the silent house became filled with laughter.
Kuro smiled at his youngest grandson sitting on his lap without asking permission.
"What will be the story today?" asked the little boy.
Kuro looked at the bookshelf that was overloaded with all kinds of books.
Thousands of psychology books along with medical books of Yui accumulated there during her lifetime.
He smiled.
"Today..."
"I’ll tell you a true story."
The children moved closer to listen.
"It starts with a young psychology student..."
He glanced at Yui.
"...who kept coming to that hospital."
Yui chuckled.
"And with a tired medical student..."
"...who kept forgetting about having lunch."
The children laughed.
"Did Grandpa really cook for you?"
Yui nodded with a dramatic gesture.
"He did."
"Was he good?"
Kuro interrupted her.
"I’ve improved."
She smiled in a playful way.
"Eventually."
Everyone laughed.
---
As the evening came near, the family got ready to go.
Right before getting into the car, their granddaughter stopped abruptly.
"Grandpa?"
"Yes?"
"When I’ll grow up..."
"I want people to smile when they’ll meet me."
Kuro’s eyes became soft.
He put his hand to her head tenderly.
"Then you’re going on the right track."
She smiled brightly before going back to her parents.
Cars started moving away from their house.
Everything became silent again.
---
Kuro closed the front door and looked up at the sky.
Stars had started appearing one by one.
He went inside and saw Yui waiting for him with two warm mugs of tea.
She gave him one.
"They’ve gone home."
"They have."
She smiled gently.
"But they’ll come back."
"They always do."
They sat together under the evening sky and watched how the lights of the city started lighting up.
After a while, Yui laid her head on his shoulder.
"Kuro."
"Hm?"
"If we had another chance to live our lives..."
He didn’t even need to think about it.
"I’d still wait outside that hospital."
Yui smiled.
"And I’d still ask you to walk me home."
Their fingers intertwined again.
There weren’t any promises anymore.
No grand speeches either.
Only two hearts that have been choosing each other throughout their whole life.
The wind brought the smell of blooming flowers from the garden.
Kuro closed his eyes for a moment and thanked God for every ordinary day that had turned into such an extraordinary life.
Some love stories end with a confession.
Some love stories end with a wedding.
Their love story never ends.
It just continues...
One sunset at a time.
