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One of Kaoru’s happiest memories is of a frigid winter day so long ago. He had forgotten his right glove at school on top of his desk, and quickly his hand became red and cold.
He made a feeble attempt to bring himself some semblance of heat by rubbing his hands together as fast as he could, but it was all for naught. His fingers remained as frozen as ever, and in that moment, it seemed as if they would for all eternity. At the thought of his fingers slowly turning blue as time crawled on, he couldn’t help but to let out a sniffle.
He had tried and tried to look for his missing glove in the snow, thinking that he had lost it when they were let out to play earlier. However, the more he searched for his missing glove, the more hopeless the task of finding it seemed to be.
Just as he was about to burst into tears and give up completely, he spotted a figure in the snow through his blurred vision. Kaoru recognized well her silky blonde hair, the long coat she wore most often in days like these, her worried expression…
He ran to her as fast as he could.
She caught him so easily in her arms.
She then held his hands in her own, and all was suddenly right in the world. It felt as if all the warmth in the universe started to envelop him right then, and most of all, it felt like love.
It was in her hands that he knew what love felt like.
He remembers her hands as the ones that held his tightly, so tightly, that they thought they could never lose each other. There was always a firm gentleness in her grip as she weaved through crowds with Kaoru in tow, and it’s something that he never wanted to forget.
Her hands were strong, he always remembers them to be strong. Hands that were so strong that they could fend off all evil just by a simple gesture of kindness. Hands that could hold anything and everything within them.
When they started to grow weak, he pretended not to notice it.
It was a gradual process. One month, everything would be fine, and she’d drag him off to the aquarium, hand-in-hand. The next, she’d try bringing him to the rooftop of the hospital to watch the snow fall, only to accidently let Kaoru’s hand slip from hers on their way up the stairs. The month after, they’d sit in her room, gazing longingly out the window as the snow began to melt. Those days, she’d rest her hands on top of his, to show that she was still there, still breathing.
When her fingers no longer had the strength to clasp around his, Kaoru was the one that picked up the slack. His hands were so much bigger then, so much stronger, than that winter day so many years ago.
Never strong enough.
He wanted to say it to her; that his hands would never be the ones that would hold that power, and that he couldn’t bear to live knowing that, so she just had to get better.
She just had to get better.
The last time he holds her hand, it’s cold.