Work Text:
Kanata was going to die.
She knew this well. She had known it for longer than she had ever wanted to admit. Ever since she collapsed after Konata's second birthday, the day she lost mobility in her legs, she knew that the birth had done something to her, and her body was slowly shutting down as a result. No one knew exactly why it was happening. Not even the doctors did.
Now it was New Year's Eve. Tomorrow would mark the start of her new year. She tried to think about how long she had been on this decline. Three years? Had it really been three years already?
No matter how long it had been, none of it mattered. It was too late for the doctors to even attempt to cure her now, assuming there was anything they could've done in the first place.
Soujirou sobbed uncontrollably outside of the room. Before her stood a cliff-faced, stern-looking doctor. The news kept circling within her mind, repeating itself ad nauseam.
"Eleven?" She whispered. "Did you say eleven months?"
"Eleven months at best," He stated. "I am truly sorry. There's nothing we can do."
"Nothing?"
"Nothing," She desperately wanted him to stop talking, "Chemotherapy isn't an option, since nothing was picked up during any scans or tests. The only thing we can do for you is to give you painkillers to relieve any discomfort you may feel."
Kanata didn't believe it. For a moment, she believed she was dreaming – but, then again, if this was truly a dream, why wasn't she waking up?
She was admitted into the hospital moments after the meeting, moving to the ward where she would stay for the rest of her life.
Soujirou struggled to come to terms with the news. His wife. His moon and stars. Dead, just like that. Only eleven months left to spend with the one person he cherished more than anything else in the world.
What would happen to Konata? She was only three, going on four. Would she be alright? Hell, would she even know what death was? Or would she struggle to come to terms with such a concept, only being remotely aware that her mother was no longer present?
Though it was a horrible thing to consider, Soujirou momentarily wondered if Konata would remember her mother in the future. The child had spent the vast majority of her early years being taken care of by Yuki and spending time with her children – Yui, and most recently Yutaka, who only just recently turned a year old, and had been born during the very start of Kanata's decline.
It wasn't clear whether or not Konata would, but there was no doubt that Yutaka wouldn't remember her.
That evening was quiet, full of uncertainty and fear for what the future would bring. The clock struck midnight before either of them knew it, the sound of countless fireworks exploding in the air erupting, followed by countless cheers. It marked the start of the new year. The beginning of the end.
Kanata was fast asleep, likely dreaming of a better world, whilst Soujirou couldn't stop crying. He had tried to stay strong, not just for Kanata, but for Konata, but knew he couldn't for long. How could he? Part of him knew that he wouldn't be able to cope with her death, even long before now.
He looked at Kanata, noting how peaceful she looked and remembering each time he saw her cough, or each time he looked at her and swore that her skin was just a few shades paler, cursing himself for missing all of the signs.
There was nothing he could do to stop this. Defeated, he planted a tender kiss on her forehead, praying to whatever spirit or deity that was out there to let his wife life, to not let her die.
Please, he pleaded, Don't do this. Don't let my Kanata die.
A part of him knew the effort was fruitless. It couldn't be helped. It was the least he could do.
"Mama, are you gonna be alright?"
Kanata wasn't sure if she could answer that question.
Was she supposed to be truthful? Perhaps not. She wasn't sure how Konata would react to such news.
Though, then again, it would be more distressing for the poor girl if she were to simply leave without warning. Konata would likely be confused as to where she'd gone once she had died. Besides, Kanata didn't think that Yuki would be willing to explain death to a child, especially given her unwillingness to explain anything morbid or taboo to Yui.
In the end, Kanata supposed that it was time for her to be honest with the girl. Better late than never, she thought.
"Erm, well..." Already, Kanata found herself having to fight back tears. "Konata... you know there's been something wrong with Mama for quite some time now, don't you?"
Konata nodded, listening carefully to her every word. This was too much for her. Kanata didn't want to entertain the thought of how Konata would react once she died.
"Well..." Her voice cracked with each word, "The doctors have tried everything they can, and there's nothing they can do to make me feel any better... I'm going to die soon, Konata. I'm so sorry..."
Tears began to form in her eyes. Konata quickly tried to wipe them away, unsure of what to do.
"Mama... what does 'die' mean?" She asked. "Will you come back?"
Kanata shook her head regretfully.
"I can only wish I could... but, when someone dies, Konata, they don't come back."
Kanata tried to hide her tears, unwilling to show just how upset she was to Konata. The attempt was fruitless.
"Don't cry, Mama!" Konata pleaded. "I'll remember you! I'll make sure everyone does!"
Kanata quickly and suddenly pulled her into a tight, loving embrace, sniffling quietly as she held onto Konata, as if the girl was about to slip away from her at any given moment.
She was going to miss her.
When Soujirou returned to the room after his daily shopping trip, Konata rushed towards him, pulling at his trouser leg nervously and pointing to Kanata.
"Dada! Dada!" She pleaded, "Mama's upset..."
He turned to face a despondent Kanata. She sobbed quietly, covering her face with her hands.
All he could do was hug her. For the first time in his life, he wasn't sure how to make her feel better. Words had failed him.
He was thankful that Yuki quietly came to pick up Konata soon after. He didn't want the girl to suffer through any more of this grief than she had already.
Her last Valentine's Day was an odd one.
Kanata and Soujirou had a very specific tradition for each Valentine's Day. In the past, they would usually go out on a date somewhere, whether it were a park, a restaurant, or some other place – frankly, the location wasn't too important, they just needed to have a meal and spend some time somewhere. Anyone who visited their house would also note that it was decorated front-to-back with roses, hearts, flowers, cards, and any sort of love-themed item. They weren't exactly the type to hide their love and affection for each other.
Going out to a restaurant was, more or less, impossible at this point. Apart from decorating the room, the least they could do was celebrate the occasion with a small meal at the cafeteria. Soujirou spent much of the week buying roses and decorations, wasting no time in getting the entire room decorated, ready for the big day.
Seeing bright red roses next to the countless memorial flowers and "get-well-soon" cards many had sent for Kanata made him feel all kinds of uneasy.
The celebrations still went on, as close as Soujirou and Kanata could possible make them to how they would have been when they were back home. Sure, they were mostly confined to the limited space of the hospital, but their room was right next to the garden, and luckily for the both of them, the cafeteria wasn't too far away, either. Soujirou made absolutely sure the windows were open as wide as possible.
Kanata looked outside with a glint of wonder in her eyes, taking in the view that laid before her. From her bed, she could see the entire world. Birds, flying past her window, some nesting in the trees that had stood there for centuries. The many different species of flowers that had started to bloom in the past weeks. The light chill that accompanied the February winds.
She held a heart-shaped box of chocolates in her hands, picking one and savouring the taste for as long as she could. They were just as good as she remembered them, if not better.
At the cafeteria, they enjoyed a cup of tea and some shortbread together. It was one of the sweetest things Soujirou had done for her in her entire existance.
They laughed and laughed as was usual for them, chattering as if it were still the eighties and they were still a young, naive couple. Despite their circumstances, the spirit of the holiday was still alive, admittedly, to no one's surprise. The couple had always found a way to make Valentine's special.
No matter how cheerful the day had been, tears were shed throughout the night. This was their final time celebrating this day together. No matter how much fun they had, the reality of their situation was still hopelessly depressing.
When night rolled around, Soujirou knew that he would never celebrate another Valentine's Day ever again. It wouldn't feel the same without her.
Kanata's health was declining a little more each day. Konata's fourth birthday came and went as if it were nothing more than a blur. Now summer was a little more than two days away.
In spite of her situation, she was more than overjoyed to see her bundle of joy on her big day. Konata was beaming brighter than ever, shining a blinding light against the oppressive bleakness of their situation as she giggled and rolled around in the face of hopelessness.
Kanata couldn't help but think what the girl was thinking. Was she secretly terrified? Or did her explanation of death fail to reach her? The latter couldn't have been true. She noticed how Konata flashed a momentary look of confusion – fear, perhaps – for a split second once she had seen the state her mother was in.
Konata didn't like seeing her mother in this state at all. She looked pale, resembling more of a ghost than a human, except she was still able to talk, chatter and laugh as if nothing was wrong.
Of course, Konata didn't know what she was actually thinking or feeling. She just knew that something was off. And she didn't like how sad her mother looked at times. It made her feel sad, too.
On one such occasion, Soujirou had decided to go on a walk with Yuki whilst his wife slept, carrying Konata on his shoulders. Both parties were completely silent for the duration of the walk.
What could they talk about, anyway? Yuki was entirely unequipped to deal with a grieving man. She didn't know what to say or how to comfort him at all. Soujirou didn't feel like talking, either. They kept walking, and walking, and walking, to no destination in particular, before they eventually stopped at the park. Yuki supposed that Soujirou merely wanted some time away from the hospital in the end. She didn't blame him one bit.
The silence was strange, and almost suffocating. Yuki knew that Soujirou was suffering. His face was eternally branded with a broken, crestfallen expression. It spoke millions of words at once, all in a tongue of grief.
The least she could do to aid in some way was to keep taking care of Konata. The girl was babbling nonsensically, entertaining herself with the scenery that surrounded and fascinated her to no end. At one point, she had climbed down from her father's soldiers, leading ahead of them similar to a shepherd leading their cattle.
They returned back to the ward later in the day, Konata still bubbly from the excitement of the outside world. She hugged her mother as usual, zipping off to find wherever Yui was.
However, unbeknownst to the girl, Yui, too, was absolutely devastated by all of this. She had ran out of the ward moments ago, in tears from seeing Kanata's condition
Yui had grown up with Kanata for all of her life. She was present from her birth, and throughout much of her childhood. She immediately cooed over Konata once the child had been born, falling in love with her almost instantly. Kanata was the aunt that Yui adored the most. She was kind, understanding, and never looked down on anyone or mocked those who were different.
When Yuki told her that Kanata was going to die very soon, she had no idea what she was going to do with herself. Like a complete fool, she chose to bottle up her emotions. She had to be strong, she thought. Not just for her mother, but for Konata, too.
It had, unsurprisingly, resulted in this.
She stood outside the room, unable to cope with the situation, losing control of her emotions and repeatedly choking out "Why?", over and over again, resisting the urge to punch the floor as she collapsed to her knees.
Life was unfair. This world was cruel. Why did Kanata have to die so soon, and not her? Was this her fault? Had she caused this?
Her thoughts stopped dead in their tracks when she saw Konata standing before her. Her stomach fell as soon as she realised that the girl was nearly as tearful as she was.
"Cousin Yui..." She looked devastated, "Why are you crying?"
Immediately, Yui tried to convince her that she was fine.
"H-Hey, Konata... it's alright, I'm fine! This is nothing! I'll be oka-"
Konata staggered towards her, wrapping her arms around the older girl with all of her strength and pleading for her to not cry, that Kanata would come back. She could barely contain her own tears. It hurt worse when, mid sentence, Konata realised that death was permanent, and only started to cry harder.
Yui hugged her back instantly. The two sobbed together, for what seemed like aeons.
Kanata had felt pain before. When she was fifteen, she broke her arm after falling off of her skateboard. She remembered yelling out in agony when the doctors reset the bone, and the unforgettable sharp pain that followed.
How could she forget? The pain was like none she had experienced previously. Previously was the key word here.
No pain she had ever experienced in her life could compare to this.
The pain she felt was a chronic kind of pain. It flared up whenever it pleased, and died down seemingly at random. Worryingly, the pain was only getting more persistent. Part of her was comforted by the fact that it might not get worse. The other part of her was thankful for the existence of morphine, which seemed to be the only thing that kept it at bay.
It usually worsened on a night. Even with the assistance of painkillers, sleep was never an easy task for her.
Every night, Soujirou would sleep by resting his head directly on her stomach, which was often covered by the duvet. She would slowly stroke his hair as she slept, and eventually – though, this wasn't always the case – she, too, would find herself falling asleep soon afterwards.
They made sure to smile through the pain whenever they could.. Soujirou would always tell jokes whenever it got particularly severe, in an attempt to distract her from the agony. During times when she struggled to fall asleep, they would listen to the sound of the evening cicadas together, or surf through channels on the television to find something to laugh at. Anything to distract them both from the inevitable.
Summer soon spread its wings, and Kanata had begun to feel tired more often than she felt energised – it was a very slight kind of exhaustion, but a worrisome sign nonetheless. She tried her hardest not to succumb to the feeling. She desperately wanted to fight against any sign of death.
One night, after she had found sleep impossible to achieve, she laid in bed, watching the sunrise as consciousness finally failed her. It very well could have been her last time seeing such a beautiful spectacle.
All she could manage to think of was how much she longed to go to the beach again. She remembered when she and Soujirou went to the beach all those years ago. The memory felt a little sad now, now that she knew she would never experience such a wonderful day again.
Two months later, Kanata needed to be put on an IV drip. There was no other way she could get nutrients or water otherwise, and the doctors wanted to make her as comfortable as possible.
It was an indescribably painful sight. She had lost most of her energy at this point. They weren't seeing much of Konata anymore, either, as Yuki stopped taking her to visit as much once her mother's health began to significantly decline. Soujirou figured it was for the best, as did Kanata. It was better if she wasn't there to see her mother's final moments.
Outside, the autumn leaves fell gently, resting modestly on the ground below. People had laid pumpkins with carved-out faces out on the windowsills, each one imitating some monster or serial killer of some kind, and the distant lights of a party could be seen in the distance, accompanied with some music that vaguely sounded it was about some thriller night.
Was it Halloween already? Kanata found it a little hard to believe. The days had started to blend into each other, and her perception of time was beyond what many would describe as being "completely fucked". The memorial flowers had piled up on the desk beside her, overwhelming the amount of roses that had been laid months ago.
"Sou-kun?" She randomly asked, out of the blue. The silence was only adding to her disquietude.
"Yes, Kanata?"
She paused and thought carefully about what she wanted to say, reflecting back on the memories she and Soujirou had made together.
Their first kiss. The school prom. The wedding ring Soujirou bought her. There were so many to think of. She wanted to say something, but at the same time, she didn't know what she wanted to say.
“…thank you.” That was all that she was able to say. Soujirou had to stop himself from breaking down into a sobbing mess afterwards.
She signed her final will later that evening, placing it next to the box labelled “Konata Izumi” on her desk.
From that moment on, Kanata had finished everything she had wanted to do before she died – well, except for one thing.
She wanted to see her child again, for one last time. She wanted to see Konata.
And, thankfully, her wish was granted.
That evening, Yuki dropped Konata off at the hospital for the last time soon after Kanata was done signing her will. The girl was ecstatic to see her as always, clinging onto her the moment she ran into the room, burrowing into her arms like a mole into soil.
Kanata entirely reciprocated the action, tightly holding onto Konata as the younger girl squealed with excitement and giggled, babbling about how much she had missed her. It felt bittersweet knowing that this was the last chance either that either of them had to see each other.
She cradled Konata in her arms, rocking her gently as she had done countless times before, the girl soon drifting off into a peaceful and gentle sleep. Konata would have to grow up without her. It pained her greatly, having to leave in this manner, but there was nothing that could be done about it.
No matter what happened, Kanata knew she would always be proud of her bundle of joy. Konata had made staggering progress already, despite her short time on this earth, and had managed to impress her with each milestone she made. Kanata could only hope she would be able to flourish in her wake.
She pressed a kiss to her forehead as the four-year-old awoke. It was as if she was barely a year old once again.
"I'll miss you," she whispered. Konata smiled in response, hugging her once more.
She didn't admit it then, but she didn't want to say goodbye. She could only long to have just a little more time with her, even if just for a few hours.
With each passing day, Kanata's energy decreased more, until she could barely stay awake for very long, spending much of her time asleep. Soujirou stayed right by her side throughout this decline, comforting her whenever she dreamt.
It was a well known fact that she would be dead very soon. The doctors were counting down the days now, and had increased the amount of painkillers she was being given, now that they were fully focusing on her comfort above all else.
He looked at her skin. Nowadays it resembled more of a papery-like substance rather than anything resembling flesh, and was as pale as a sheet. For now, she could still breathe, but part of him knew that she wouldn't be for much longer. He tried to ignore the faint rattle-like sound that her breathing made at times.
Despite all of that, somehow – Soujirou could hardly believe it himself – she appeared to be more at peace than she had ever been during her time at hospital, more than she was when Konata visited. It was as if she had made peace with death, now that she had no other business to tend to.
As she slept, he went out to go buy groceries for what was likely to be the last time in Kanata's life, only buying what he knew was absolutely necessary. It was by no means a long trip at all. He felt extremely hollow by the time it was over, and wept as Kanata continued to sleep through the day.
The sun had started to set when Kanata finally awoke. It cast a pinkish glow into the room.
Kanata immediately turned towards the balcony when she saw the magnificent display, struggling to get out of her bed.
"I..." She forced out, before coughing slightly. "I want... to watch the sunset..."
Soujirou was slightly taken aback by Kanata's request. Her voice sounded weak, as if she was fighting to live.
"Are you sure, dear?" He could tell that the end was coming. "You don't have to do anything, you know..."
Kanata did not back down.
"I... I want to see it one last time, before I.."
She couldn't finish her sentence, but Soujirou knew exactly what she meant.
Immediately, Soujirou scooped Kanata up and put her in her wheelchair, wheeling her along with the IV machine out to the balcony. From there, he stood beside her as they both watched the sunset.
It was a breathtaking view. Soujirou and Kanata both saw the spectacle in all of its glory. The sky had turned into a mix of pink and yellow, and the sun was nothing more than a golden orb, resting at the edge of the sky. For the first time in a while, Soujirou, too, felt at peace.
The both of them were entranced by the display. Kanata turned to Soujirou, as the stars became visible in the sky.
"I'll miss you." There were tears in her eyes.
Soujirou rubbed his eyes with his sleeve.
"I'll miss you too," he replied, trying not to cry once again.
They thought of everything then. From the day they first met, to their wedding, to Konata's first words, first steps, first time eating solid food, to the first time Kanata entered the hospital after her birth, and they were concerned that something didn't seem right to them. Each memory of their relationship flashed before their eyes, and it soon felt like they were both spending time together for the very last time. A final send off before the inevitable.
Soujirou carried Kanata back to her bed once the night sky began to roll in, and she fell asleep once she was tucked back into bed. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, whispering a goodnight and wiping the tears from his eyes.
The morning of November 12th, 1994, was initially like any other. The moment he awoke, Soujirou commenced the morning ritual he had undertaken since the new year – get showered, get dressed, and then make tea. Once all was said and done, he sat down in his chair, tea in hand, sipping the beverage quietly as he listened to the morning bird's song. There were no plans for today.
To his surprise, Kanata stirred awake moments later. This was unusual. Soujirou thought that Kanata usually didn't wake up until the evening. So why was she awake?
The only reason he could think of was the one that he feared the most.
"Kanata," He began. "You're awake..."
Kanata tried to get up, but couldn't. Her head fell back down on the pillow. She knew this was it. She knew that her time had come.
Soujirou was growing more concerned by the second, already having rushed to Kanata's side. Part of him had already accepted that she was about to die.
Kanata didn't want him to worry anymore. She gently held his hand.
"I'm fine..." She said, wearily, as Soujirou opened his mouth to speak. "Don't worry about me, Sou-kun..."
He held her hand, tears in his eyes.
"I'll miss you, Kanata... take all the time you need..." His voice kept breaking.
Kanata turned to face him.
"Sou-kun... take care of Konata for me," She coughed halfway through her words. "I want her to live a good life... and I want her to know that I love her, even after I'm gone..."
They were both in tears. Soujirou didn't want her to go just yet, but he knew that she had made peace with death a long time ago.
A thousand questions were swimming in his head at once. How would Konata cope when she was gone? He had wondered that at the start; Kanata had too. Yui would be devastated. Yuki, too. Soujirou had no idea how he would remotely function without the company of his wife.
Kanata sighed, and smiled. It was an act of defiance in the face of death.
"Take care. I love you, Sou-kun." She whispered.
She fell back asleep. Her eyes never opened again.
The flatline was deafening.
The hospital staff soon came to carry her body away to the morgue. Soujirou could only stare at the bed in disbelief.
It was completely bare. Devoid of its character. No sheets or duvet. Just a mattress. On the floor was a teddy bear someone had gifted to Kanata. The desks and tables were still decorated with memorial flowers.
Yuki came as soon as she received Soujirou's call, and was shocked by the sight of the ward and the empty bed.
Konata was about to ask where her mother was when she arrived alongside Yuki. Her face fell when her eyes met Soujirou's, and she knew exactly what had happened. Yui immediately broke down into tears when she saw that Kanata's bed was completely barren of any sign of life, and had to excuse herself from the room.
Konata remained. She continued to look for her mother, of course, to no avail.
She kept staring at the empty bed, looking miserable and teary-eyed. She didn't know what to do, and didn't want to do anything. She just wanted her mother back.
Soujirou drove home later that night, slightly relieved by the fact that he and Konata could finally go home after all these months. He entered the front door, immediately facing a framed picture he and Kanata took on their last day out together, mere weeks before she was admitted into hospital.
He fell to his knees, clenching the photo tightly as he wailed uncontrollably. This was the last piece of her that he could hold.
Kanata's funeral was held a week after her death.
She looked uncanny, sitting in her coffin – her eyes closed, face at rest, skin no longer pale as paper, somehow. In spite of the fact that her corpse looked nothing like the Kanata Soujirou had known for the past decade, he found himself feeling slightly comforted by the fact she was finally at peace.
Yuki cried during her eulogy. Soujirou sobbed as he struggled to speak through his. He saw how devastated those around him were as a result of Kanata's death. Their reactions only seemed to rub salt into his emotional wounds, and he was left a sobbing mess by the end of the service.
There was a small gathering after her funeral ended. Soujirou couldn't bring himself to attend it.
About three months later, in February of the following year, her headstone was settled atop the place she was buried.
Soujirou's house was quieter without her presence. He had no one to watch TV with any more. No one to laugh at his admittedly terrible jokes. No one to question his otaku tendencies. It was mainly just him and Konata now. Sometimes, Yuki would visit to check on him, but even those grew few and far as time went by.
He spent most of his time mourning, unable to move on from her death even all these months later. It was better than it previously had been, sure, but not by a huge margin. He felt pathetic for struggling sometimes, wondering if he had let Kanata down by doing this.
One day, after he picked Konata up from school, he took her with him to visit Kanata's grave. They both brought flowers with them, the both of them setting them down carefully, removing any specks of dirt that was already present on her headstone. The inscription on her headstone was as clear as day, not yet marked by age or dirt.
"In loving memory of KANATA IZUMI
August 20th, 1967 – November 12th, 1994
Beloved wife and mother. Missed by all."
He stood back for a moment, gazing at the flowers the two had left by her headstone. There were only a few bouquets present at her grave, and each one was much larger than the two solitary flowers he and Konata had laid down. The only difference between the two was that the flowers they chose were Kanata's favourite.
"Konata Izumi?"
She awoke with a jolt, having nearly fallen asleep during story time, swiftly turning to face the door. There, a teaching assistant awaited her, holding a small wooden box in her hands and beckoning her to follow him outside of the room.
He gave her the box. On top of it was a white label with her name on it.
"Did mama make this?" She asked, curiously, the assistant responding with a solemn nod.
"Your dad came in this morning, asking for us to give it to you," His face fell as he spoke. "He couldn't give it to you himself."
She curiously opened the box. Inside was a bracelet and a hastily folded up letter. Naturally, she opened up the letter, reading it carefully.
Konata,
I'm sorry for leaving so soon. I wish we could've had more time together. Just know that none of this was your fault. – though, I'm afraid I don't know why this had to happen so soon, either. I suppose this is just a result of how frail I was naturally.
I want you to know how proud of you I am. You haven't been around on this earth for an awfully long time, and you've already exceeded anything I could have ever imagined. You've shown the earth how determined you are to be your own person. Even now, I can see glimpses of the girl you'll grow up to be with each laugh that escapes your throat, and the way your eyes glimmer at the sight of both me and your father. It pains me that I have to leave you so soon.
Whilst I would rather that your memories of me were not associated with sadness, I know that may not be an easy task for you. I understand you will have trouble processing the fact that I am no longer with you at times. Just know that I will be right by your side, even in the afterlife.
Come back to this whenever you please. The bracelet is yours to keep. Think of it as a parting gift; something to remember me by whenever you feel down.
I love you,
- Kanata Izumi / Mama
Konata soon realised she was crying, her tears falling onto the letter and staining the paper. That night, she ran into her fathers arms and sobbed, mumbling about how much she missed her mother. They both cried together, sharing a mutual sense of grief.
From that day onward, Konata always felt a twang of sadness every mother's day. It couldn't be helped. After all, she was the only child in her class who didn't have a mother. Perhaps that only added to the loneliness she'd always feel each time that day rolled around.