*CHAPTER 1 — The Last Day*
Tokyo was already awake, bathed in pale morning light. Down a quiet lane in Akasaka, in a modest apartment on the third floor, lived a boy whose name carried more weight than he deserved — *Kento Murakami*.
At first glance, he looked like any other sixteen-year-old: dark hair, thoughtful eyes, a boy who dreamed. But Kento carried something heavier than dreams. He lived with *Duchenne Muscular Dystrophy*, a disease that slowly silenced the muscles — one by one — until even breathing became a battle.
That morning, Kento tied his shoes carefully, the way someone does when every motion requires effort. He stepped out into the city, taking the familiar road to school.
When he arrived, the classroom felt unusually quiet. Their homeroom teacher, Ms. Sato, stood by the desk, her face composed but her voice trembling.
"Everyone," she said softly, "today is Kento Murakami's last day with us. From tomorrow, he won't be attending school anymore. Kento has Duchenne Muscular Dystrophy... and we will all pray for his health."
The words hung in the air like heavy dust. Some students looked away; others stared. Kento bowed slightly, his heart thudding with shame he didn't deserve.
Then a voice beside him broke the silence.
"Hey," someone said with a half-smile, "my first day here and your last. Crazy coincidence, right?"
Kento blinked. "What do you mean?"
The boy grinned sheepishly. "Ah, sorry! I'm Kazuma. Nice to meet you."
Kento nodded faintly. "Kento."
Kazuma leaned closer, lowering his voice. "By the way... I saw how you walk. You kind of step backward sometimes. Why's that?"
Kento hesitated, then answered quietly. "Because of my disease. It makes my muscles weaker every day."
"Oh... that one where your body stops working bit by bit?"
"Yes," Kento said simply.
"And your parents?" Kazuma asked.
Kento's voice dropped to a whisper. "They died in a plane crash."
Kazuma froze, guilt flashing across his face. "I'm sorry... I didn't mean to—"
"It's alright," Kento interrupted gently.
Kazuma scratched his head. "So, you live alone?"
"Yes."
After a pause, Kazuma said, "Well, rent's insane in Tokyo... mind if I move in with you?"
Kento's eyes widened. "You're serious?"
"Totally." Kazuma grinned. "I don't mind. We can share."
It was selfish at first — Kazuma wanted a cheap place — but in time, the two boys became inseparable. They cooked, argued, laughed, and faced the long Tokyo nights together.
Until one night, when Kento couldn't make it to the toilet and Kazuma, with quiet frustration, had to clean the bed. And he did — because they were friends. Real ones. The kind that life forges in unexpected places.