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Eichi lies there, with a tube down his windpipe, connected to a machine that forces his good-for-nothing lungs to breathe. Just like any other hospital visit. Soon enough, Eichi will wake up, gag on the tube and they'll laugh about it. Except not this time. But Keito doesn't know it just yet.
Keito is deep in thought, when a steady, continuous beep jolts him awake. It's the kind of beep that everyone dreads to hear in a hospital, the beep that comes from a heart monitor when someone's heart has stopped beating. One glance at the monitor screen tells Keito that Eichi's heart has indeed stopped, as the only thing on the screen is a horizontal line.
Keito knows that the heart monitor sends an alarm to the doctor's room if there's a drastic change in a patient's heartrate, but he sounds the separate alarm anyway and remains in the room until a wave of doctors and nurses pools in and shoos him away.
Keito sits in the hallway outside the room. No one has gone in or come out since he was told to leave. The hallway is quiet and smells like hospital. Keito feels nauseous.
Them, the door opens. A doctor comes out, wearing an expression that's easy to read. Keito knows before the doctor speaks. Eichi's heart will never beat again.
Long after the doctor leaves, Keito remains sitting still, staring at the blank white wall in front of him. There are no tears, just a feeling of emptiness, a void within him. And then he takes out his phone. He has some calls to make.
First, he contacts the headmaster. The call is short and uneventful, but full of empty words that do nothing to comfort. The headmaster tells him that a memorial will be held at school the following day. Keito thanks him, but his voice is devoid of any emotion.
Then, he calls Wataru. For one, he actually picks up, but there is no upbeat hello, no boasting laugh, just silence. The ever-talking Wataru Hibiki is quiet. Maybe he knew what was coming. Keito doesnt know what to say, even though he has delivered news of someone's passing countless times before. Never quite like this though. Never quite like this.
"The emperor... Is no more."
Wataru says nothing. The line is silent.
"I trust you to deliver the news to the other members of fine."
For a moment, Keito thinks Wataru ended the call, since he can't hear a sound from the other end. But the call is still on. Keito wonders what kind of a face Wataru is making. Grief would look foreign on his cheerful features.
The silence continues. No matter how annoying he finds Wataru, Keito can't help but feel bad for him. It's one to lose an old friend, like Keito has, but to lose a lover is entirely different.
"There will be a memorial tomorrow," Keito says, and, because he is not free of emotions, adds: "Take care, Hibiki."