“Say 'Aaa.'"

Your directive reverberated through the expanse of the spacious hospital room, where open windows invited the warm summer breeze to weave its way inside.

The pristine white walls, coupled with the squeaky-clean tiles underfoot, created an environment of clinical purity—a sanctuary appreciated by none more so than Okkotsu, who never failed to express his gratitude for the sterile surroundings.

"Aaa," he echoed dutifully, his mouth agape as you peered into the depths of his throat, hoping for signs of improvement. No luck. Still as concerning as ever.

With a resigned sigh, the child closed his mouth, his gaze falling to his hands in a display of shame at his body's failure to mend itself with the swiftness he wished for. It was as if he expected pneumonia to be a fleeting inconvenience, vanishing as abruptly as it had appeared.

"It's not gone, is it..." His voice, softened by illness, trailed off as his hesitant brown eyes briefly met yours before retreating back to his lap in a gesture of timidity. "Thats ok." It was a feeble attempt to mask his disappointment, though you sensed his longing for positive news.

Alas, none was forthcoming. As you resumed your notes on the computer, the rhythmic hum of a nursery rhyme caught your attention. "What song are you humming?" you inquired, prompting him to glance up with a slight smile.

"Twinkle Twinkle Little Star," he managed between coughs, his arm pressed firmly against his mouth in a futile attempt to stifle the violent spasms. The scratchy fabric of his shirt only exacerbated his discomfort, his eyes watering from the irritation.

These episodes of aggressive coughing had become distressingly frequent, prompting your growing concern. While pneumonia was serious enough on its own, the realization dawned that Okkotsu's affliction might extend beyond its confines.

Then, as if to shatter all semblance of reason, came the telltale sight of blood mingled with the coughs—a stark reminder that logic held little sway in the face of such dire circumstances.