Lately, I had been getting these headaches.
Nothing serious—just a dull ache behind my eyes that came and went.
I tried to ignore it.
But sometimes… my vision would blur—
and for a split second, I thought I saw something I couldn't understand.
Shapes.
Movements.
Things that shouldn't exist.
And then it would be gone.
My name is Kim Isakawa.
I was born into what people would call a middle-class family. Nothing special, nothing lacking. A house large enough for comfort, small enough to feel warm.
My mother died giving birth to me.
I don't remember her face, and because of that, I never felt the kind of loneliness people talk about. My father always had a smile—gentle, constant, as if it were carved into him. My elder sister stood beside him, seven years older than me, acting more like a second parent than a sibling.
For a long time, I thought we were a happy family.
That illusion ended the year I was about to enter high school.
My father suffered from an incurable heart disease.
There were signs.
Small things—easy to overlook if you weren't paying attention.
The pauses between his breaths.
The way he would stop for a moment before speaking, as if gathering strength.
But he always smiled.
The same gentle smile that held our small family together.
So I never questioned it.
I never realized how serious it was.
By the time I understood… it was already too late.
The illness didn't take him all at once.
It stayed—quiet, patient—taking pieces of him day by day.
And even then, he never let it show.
The day it ended was… quiet.
There were no last words.
No final moments I could hold onto.
Just silence.
For a long time, I stood there, looking at him.
Waiting.
As if he would open his eyes and smile again—
like nothing had changed.
But he didn't.
…
I didn't cry.
There wasn't time for that.
My sister had already started thinking about what came next.
The house. The expenses. My future.
My sister gave up her college education and began working as a salesman to support us. I didn't argue. I couldn't. Instead, I made a decision of my own-
'I will protect what is left.'