It was a cold Friday morning when Nazo went to the hospital to visit Biyu. She had been at the National Cancer Center Hospital for close to a month, and her health had been rapidly deteriorating. The doctors had been administering chemotherapy for several months. At first, they seemed to reduce the tumors on her kidneys. Since October, though, the chemotherapy seemed to have lost its efficacy.

Biyu's mood and spirits had been holding up until then. She felt ok, she felt strong. Nazo could see the fight in her eyes. Her October visit produced a different look in her eyes. Now she looked overwhelmed, scared, and even timid. Nazo did his best to encourage her and maintain his own positive outlook. But he also knew time was starting to grow short.

In the hospital, despite the various tubes and electrodes and wires, she would always give a slight smile when Nazo looked at her. Every hour on the dot, an army of nurses and doctors would rush in to take Biyu's vital signs. Biyu remained lucid, though she was on a healthy dose of morphine for the pain she felt through her entire body. She hadn't had the energy to get up and walk for several days. And even when she did, the pain had been overwhelming. While her body was racked with cellular mutations that were growing out of control, her mind stayed present and sharp.

When they were younger, Nazo had wooed Biyu with several poems. He had brought one with him to read to her today. This was the first one he had written for her:

If I have one wish

I want to clear the rain from your eyes

If I am anywhere

I will be by your side to wipe away the tears in your eyes

If I could catch all the brilliance of them

I will not lose them from my own eyes

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I would have walked on the light

Just to show that I am true

I just know the person

Someone who knows that I may fall in love with you

Nazo held Biyu's hand as he sat, and she lay next to him. There was a small window in her room where he could see that it was lightly snowing. There was a small hint of sunshine between the flakes. Nazo thought of their first winter together in Tokyo. With a small sigh, Biyu let out her breath, and her grip on his hand relaxed. Within seconds, several machines started making sounds, and then the healthcare brigade rushed in, pushing Nazo out of the way.

Nazo knew this was the moment, and he was at peace with it. Still, he exclaimed:

"Biyu, Biyu!"

"Tanuki-nyan, my love!"

"Oh oh oh..."

Nazo collapsed in the corner, curled into a ball, his hands in his face as the tears fell from his own eyes. He stayed there as the hospital staff made their attempts to revive his loving wife. He stayed there as they stopped trying. He stayed there as most of them left the room to attend other patients. One doctor and one nurse stayed behind to capture notes and readings from the machines. The doctor left, and it was just Nazo and the nurse. She looked at him in the corner and helped him to his feet. She told him he could stay in the room, and he could have a moment once she removed all the tubes and wires. Or, if he preferred, he could wait outside the room while she removed everything.

Nazo just stared at her. His mind heard the words, and generally understood their meaning, but he couldn't process what she said. It was a fog of sounds, and he felt almost paralyzed. He couldn't speak or move. The nurse helped him out of Biyu's room, and into the waiting room down the hallway. She brought Nazo a small blanket and a warm, wet towel for his hands and face. She sat a glass of water on a small table next to him, along with a carafe that was also full of water. Then she went back to her task of disengaging Biyu from the various medical devices she had been hooked to.

Several minutes later, the nurse found Nazo exactly where she had left him. The blanket and towel still folded in his lap, and the water untouched. She put her hand to his elbow as she took the blanket and towel from him, helped him to his feet, and placed the blanket and towel in his place on the chair. As she walked him back to the room, she could feel a frailty in his movements. Nazo was still a vibrant and strong man, but in this moment, he felt broken, unable to commit his bones and muscles to their duty. The nurse pushed the door open, and let Nazo walk into the room alone. She told him he could take as much time as he needed.