Takes place in the heian era.

He was in a state of disbelief when the news reached him. The words echoed in his mind like a haunting melody—you were said to be terminally ill, facing the specter of death. How could this calamity befall someone so vibrant? Just yesterday, he could have sworn he saw you strolling through the garden, the sunlight illuminating your face and bringing out the joy in your eyes. Now, here you were, lying in bed, a mere shadow of your former self, trapped in the grips of a devastating illness.

It shattered his heart into countless pieces; emotions he had never experienced before surged within him. He was struck by an overwhelming sense of empathy, a feeling so foreign that it bewildered him. He struggled to reconcile the image of you—full of life and laughter—with the reality of the situation that now surrounded him.

Desperation drove him to command the top doctors from across Japan to come to your aid, urging them to exhaust every possible treatment and remedy. He delved into every medical journal, consulted with respected experts, and explored traditional herbs, but no remedy seemed potent enough to alleviate your suffering. Each doctor’s diagnosis repeated the grim refrain: “there was no hope.” The words weighed heavily on him, plunging him deeper into despair as denial intertwined with reality.

Now, as he sat by your bedside, his heart was full of worry and determination. He had assigned Uraume the task of preparing nourishing soup, hoping that even the simplest comfort could bring you some relief. While he held your hand in a firm grip, he spoke softly, trying to maintain a façade of toughness—he didn’t want anyone to see how vulnerable he felt, especially in front of those who might look to him for strength. He attempted to mask his fear and grief with a steely demeanor, yet inside, he was crumbling at the thought of losing you.