I sat beside my son, Rei, in the sterile hospital room, the hum of fluorescent lights pressing down on us. The walls were a lifeless white, a stark contrast to the warmth I tried to give him in every hug, every quiet laugh we shared. Now, the room smelled of antiseptic and faint traces of blood, a sharp reminder of the vulnerability I’d spent his whole life trying to shield him from. The faint, relentless beeping of machines filled the silence like an unyielding countdown, each sound tugging at my heart.
"Miss Myouga," the doctor began, his voice heavy and detached, "I'm afraid your son's grace won’t manifest." The words fell like stones, reverberating in my mind, cracking something deep inside me. I forced myself to look at Rei, my heart breaking as I saw the light in his eyes dim, like a candle being snuffed out. The dreams he had shared with me, all his hopes of becoming an Esper, seemed to drain from him in an instant, leaving behind only the shadow of a child too young to carry such disappointment.
“What do you mean by that, doctor?” I managed, my voice barely a whisper, each word a struggle. How could I find the strength to understand this? How could I hold the weight of this news for both of us?
The doctor’s gaze drifted to the monitor, where a pale yellow orb—a representation of Rei’s core—pulsed weakly. It was delicate and transparent, a faint color that seemed like it might vanish at any moment. "The core structure is nearly transparent," he explained, "as if it's fading." His tone was clinical, detached, yet I could feel his unease. His words hung in the air, bringing with them a terrifying, oppressive silence.
My hand found Rei’s, his small fingers trembling in mine. His warmth was the only real thing in that room, grounding me as fear clawed at my chest. I wanted to be strong for him, to be the unshakable mother I had promised myself I’d be. “Is there… is there something we can do?” I asked, my voice breaking, the desperation slipping through despite my efforts to hold it back.
The doctor’s expression darkened as he studied the data on his screen. "We’ll need more tests, and the treatment will be costly," he said, his words calculating, as if the figure that would follow could be measured against my love for Rei. “Approximately 150,000 USD.”
The number hit me like a punch. It loomed between us, a wall I could never hope to scale. "One hundred fifty thousand…” I repeated, the words hollow and unreal. How could a number come between me and my son’s happiness?
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A sudden, fierce voice broke the stillness. “We won’t do it.” Rei’s voice, usually so small and gentle, was now filled with a fierce determination. I turned to him, my shock evident as his gaze met mine, filled with unshed tears. "I don’t want you to do it, Mom."
My heart twisted painfully. "Rei… I thought you wanted to be an Esper," I murmured, each word a plea to understand his sudden change of heart. I wanted so badly to give him this chance, to see him become everything he had dreamed of. But now, the one thing he had wanted most, he was pushing away.
He looked up at me, his tears spilling over, his face tight with anguish. "I wanted it because… I thought it would make you proud. I thought if I was strong, you’d be happy. But if you have to hurt, if you have to struggle… I don’t want it." His voice broke, each word raw and filled with pain, and it shattered the barrier I had tried to build around my own emotions. This was my son, putting my happiness above his own dreams, even when his world was falling apart.
“Rei,” I whispered, my own tears slipping down. I reached out, but he pulled away, shaking his head.
“No! You don’t understand!” His small body shook with the weight of his emotions. "I can’t watch you go through this for me, knowing it’ll hurt you. I don’t want to be the reason you suffer."
Each word tore into me. How could he think this was his fault? How could he believe he was anything less than my joy, my reason for everything? “Rei, please,” I whispered, struggling to keep my voice steady. I wanted him to feel my love, to know that he wasn’t a burden.
"But what if… what if it costs you everything?" His words, so quiet yet so heavy, settled in the air. "I love you, Mom. I don’t want you to give up your life for me.”
My hand reached for his, trembling as I held him close. "You are my life, Rei," I whispered. "I would give anything, everything, for you to be happy. I know it’s hard to understand, but love… love is worth sacrificing for. And I’d make this choice again and again, for you."
He looked up at me, his face a mixture of disbelief and longing. I could see the battle within him, the struggle to accept that he was worthy of such love, even if it came with sacrifice.
“Mom,” he said, his voice barely audible. “I don’t want you to cry because of me. I don’t want you to suffer.”
“I cry because I love you,” I replied, holding back the flood of emotions threatening to break. "I am proud of you, every day, for your kindness, your strength. You’re more than any title, Rei. You don’t have to be an Esper for me to love you. But if there’s a chance for you to live the life you want, I’ll do everything in my power to make that happen. I want us to face this, together.”
Silence settled between us, the weight of our words pressing down but somehow lifting the burden, too. His gaze softened, and he hesitated, then slowly leaned into me. I wrapped my arms around him, feeling his small body relax in my embrace. In that moment, the hospital room, with all its sterile light and cold machines, faded away, leaving only the fierce bond between us.
Whatever the future held, we would face it side by side, mother and son.
[End of chapter]