Prologue: Ryuujin’s Soliloquy

"Ayaka has, at most... ten months left to live."

We have spent the last two months trying to find a hospital that will take our daughter in. If you are in my position, what are you willing to do when a doctor says that to your sick daughter? As parents, our greatest responsibility is to nurture and protect our children. We are meant to be their champions, to provide them with joy, laughter, and the simple pleasures of life. We make sacrifices for their happiness, ensuring they have fun and opportunities to play, to explore, and to dream.

But how much is a parent really willing to do for their child when life hangs in the balance? When every heartbeat is a reminder of the fragility of existence, what lengths would we go to save them?

To be a parent is to give everything—our time, our energy, our hopes—for our children to grow up healthy and fulfilled. It’s about crafting a world where they can thrive, filled with love and warmth. We are all familiar with tales of fierce dedication: the parent who scales mountains to fulfill a child's wish, the mother who fights against insurmountable odds to keep her family together. I think of movies like *The Pursuit of Happyness*, where a father sacrifices everything for a chance at a better life for his son, or the countless historical figures who defied the odds in pursuit of their children’s welfare. These stories echo the undeniable truth of parenthood: we will move heaven and earth for our little ones.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

In any case, we are parents. We are living to help them live.

Yet, I find myself grappling with the doctor's words.

When the doctor told me to make the most of these next ten months, to fill them with memories, with laughter, I knew they didn’t understand. I knew that sitting by and waiting wasn’t something I could do. How could I be satisfied with fleeting moments when there’s something I can do?

What can money not do? It can’t buy happiness or love, but it can buy the time of the most brilliant doctors in the world. It can buy hope when everything else feels lost. I just need money. And to get money, you need to be skilled in something worth paying for. Coincidentally, there’s a place that needs exactly what I’m best at.

What would you do for your daughter?

For me, I’m willing to play a game.

Play a game, again.