CHAPTER 434: CHAPTER 333: LIFE IS SHORT, LEAVE NO REGRETS

"Move aside."

Taira Sakurako waved her hand to shoo him away: "Don’t block the TV."

Fushimi Roku pressed pause for her and said seriously: "You should listen too."

Minamoto Tamako was biting the tip of her pen, pondering how to write the Invitation Letter. Seeing Fushimi Roku come out of the room with a serious face, she instantly thought of Mom’s tone earlier and wondered if Mom had made some excessive demands on Mr. Fu Jian...

Wait, could it be a confession?

Minamoto Tamako finally realized, she quickly spat out the pencil, placed her hands on her knees, sat up properly, full of anticipation, her eyes sparkling.

Even though she thought Mr. Fu Jian’s choice of confession location was a little hasty—lacking flowers and music and not quite romantic—but at least Mr. Fu Jian bravely initiated the conversation, which was commendable.

Minamoto Tamako’s heart was pounding, planning first to show approval, then pretend to refuse, waiting for Mr. Fu Jian to plead for a chance, she would reluctantly agree...

"I’m dying."

Fushimi Roku stood in the living room, using the tone of ’I love you,’ to say this sentence.

Indeed, this was his ultimate hidden card: confessing his illness and putting the choice to Minamoto Tamako, letting her decide whether or not to confess to a dying person!

You could say it was rather sinister.

Upon hearing this news, the two displayed different expressions.

Taira Sakurako blinked, reached out her little hand, pressed the controller button, and continued playing the game;

Minamoto Tamako sat quietly for a moment, scratched her head, picked up the pencil from the floor, and said with disappointment: "Don’t joke around like that."

"It’s true."

Fushimi Roku, in front of both of them, unbuttoned his shirt one by one. His chest was covered with Ghost Claw Marks, extending all the way to his lower back, looking like a swirling black tattoo.

"Since when did tattoos become a terminal illness?" Taira Sakurako expressionlessly controlled the plumber to hit bricks.

"Is this a tattoo sticker? You didn’t really get it tattooed, did you?" Minamoto Tamako leaned forward, using her little hand to rub Fushimi Roku’s abs.

Fushimi Roku slapped away her mischievous little hand, reminding her: "Did you forget? At Wulin Temple, I drank Ye Tea, and though I said I was fine, I actually lied to you..."

"I drank it too." Minamoto Tamako said indifferently.

"The effects differ for men and women, women experience hallucinations, men slowly turn into tree men, early symptoms show Ghost Claw Marks on the body, then it will..."

Fushimi Roku didn’t know what would happen after that, so he skipped the middle stage, describing the illness as more severe: "Turn into a tree man with a blooming head."

"Ah..."

Minamoto Tamako remembered this detail.

Oogami Nui’s assistant left a profound impression on her, especially the scene of the mating tree men, she wouldn’t forget it even at eighty.

"There, there should be a way to treat it, right?"

Minamoto Tamako finally felt the crisis, she couldn’t care about any reward or Invitation Letter, a strong sense of unease gradually spread.

Until now, she still felt unreal, not fully accepting this fact, thinking Mr. Fu Jian was just saying it casually—just like before to find all kinds of excuses to slack off.

"I’m afraid it’s incurable." Fushimi Roku said very calmly.

"No, no, don’t think like that," Minamoto Tamako quickly stood up, went back to her room to change clothes: "Let’s go to the hospital for an examination, with modern medicine so advanced, there must be a way to treat it."

Fushimi Roku knew that for Minamoto Tamako to accept the fact, it would take some time, and also need proof.

He did not refuse, followed Minamoto Tamako to the hospital, underwent a full examination, and alarmed the dermatology department head. The latter took him as a rare case, called in a bunch of attending physicians, gathered in the ward to study his skin, and discussed incessantly holding the test reports.

Minamoto Tamako felt somewhat reassured to see the doctors taking Mr. Fu Jian’s condition seriously, thinking that so many doctors being involved surely there was a way to solve it.

But when she asked, the doctors shook their heads repeatedly, indicating that the illness could only be ’further observed’, ’currently no related cases’, ’possible experimental treatment for medical research’...

Minamoto Tamako’s heart sank halfway, and she fled in panic, taking Fushimi Roku to other hospitals for tests, ending with similar results, her formerly anxious heart finally dead.

She held a pile of test reports, sitting in the hospital corridor, too anxious to even cry. When Fushimi Roku finished the last test, she rushed over, asked the doctor how it was, the latter still shook his head, stating he couldn’t help.

"From a pathological standpoint, it’s not a big issue, bodily functions show no abnormality, it’s just that the cause of the skin change can’t be found..."

The doctor tried to explain, but what fell into Minamoto Tamako’s ears was a disguised death sentence—she had heard before that when doctors encounter terminal illnesses, they often describe symptoms very lightly to give the patients hope.

—Mr. Fu Jian was going to die.

Once this thought popped into Minamoto Tamako’s mind, her body couldn’t stop trembling. She clung to Fushimi Roku, wanting him to come home with her, Mom would definitely have a way, if domestic doctors couldn’t help, then seek experts abroad, there must be a way to cure it!

"Alright, alright, it’s not a big deal."

Fushimi Roku took her hand instead, sitting on the bench in the corridor. His leg injury was almost healed, doctors suggested he should not walk until he fully recovered, but today for Minamoto Tamako’s examination, he ran around, causing a faint pain in his calves, likely a recurrence of an old injury.

"What do you mean it’s no big deal? You’re going to die, you know that!"

Minamoto Tamako’s voice was choked with sobs. Even though she was anxious, she sat down beside Fushimi Roku. Fushimi Roku didn’t let go of her hand, nor did she let go of his.

"Everyone’s going to die someday."

Fushimi Roku took it in stride, patting Minamoto Tamako’s head with his other hand. The latter buried her face in his chest, clutching his clothes tightly, her body trembling slightly.

Fushimi Roku could hear the sobbing, it felt like his shirt was getting wet.

This feeling was truly surreal, someone would be sad over his death. In his past life, he braved colds and illnesses alone, never having someone curl up in his arms, genuinely hoping he would get better.

"I, I don’t want you to die."

Minamoto Tamako didn’t scold him for being argumentative, nor did she correct him by saying there’s a big difference between ’dying of old age’ and ’dying young’.

In the past, she was afraid of revealing her heart, constantly finding excuses, hiding her true feelings; but now, she straightforwardly expressed her thoughts, laying them out truthfully.

Unexpectedly, Fushimi Roku felt pressure. He knew what he should say at this moment, and he had a lot to say... He wanted to talk about the time he had a severe cold on New Year’s Eve, he wanted to recount the life flashbacks he saw in his last moments of his past life, he had so much to say, but a knot seemed to block his heart, making him unable to speak, afraid to join in this game for the brave.

Fushimi Roku released his hand, took out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, and bent down to light one.

Minamoto Tamako leaned into his chest, not lifting her head.

The flame from the lighter wavered in the dim corridor, followed by a bright ember as Fushimi Roku took a deep drag and exhaled a stream of smoke.

Minamoto Tamako coughed softly in his embrace, no longer advising him to quit smoking.

Fushimi Roku heard the cough and snuffed out the cigarette butt. He held Minamoto Tamako close, gently patting her shoulder, speaking softly, "Let’s go, let’s go home for dinner."

Minamoto Tamako had no appetite for food, she didn’t want to be idle for even a moment. Fushimi Roku was adamant, insisting she go home first. Minamoto Tamako didn’t know how to argue back, so she silently got up and followed Fushimi Roku back to Sugamo Apartment.

"Cheer up, I’m not dead yet."

Once home, Fushimi Roku tried to console her, but to little effect, as Minamoto Tamako’s eyes were still red.

Taira Sakurako was startled, she stopped gaming and huddled in a cardboard box by herself.

When they got home, Taira Sakurako peeked her head out, too afraid to say a word, just lying on the edge of the box, gazing at them eagerly.

Fushimi Roku personally cooked, preparing an elaborate meal. He had adjusted his mood, specially lighting the leftover candles from before to add some ambiance, making it a candlelit dinner of sorts.

But to Minamoto Tamako, the white candles seemed like a funeral, especially with Fushimi Roku sitting across from her, white candles on both sides of the table, she could even imagine the scene of a wake.

All of a sudden, a wave of sadness hit Minamoto Tamako and she lost all whimsical thoughts.

"Don’t you have anything you want to say to me?" Fushimi Roku cut into the steak with fork and knife, persistently hinting at Minamoto Tamako.

When he kept silent it was fine, but once he spoke, Minamoto Tamako thought he was about to deliver his last words. Her big, expressive eyes curved slightly, and no matter how hard she tried to hold back, tears big as beans still rolled down.

"I, I... I’m sorry... I, I should have realized sooner..."

Fushimi Roku thought, why is she crying? He wasn’t crying, so why should Minamoto Tamako cry? Isn’t she supposed to wait until after he dies to cry?

"Okay, okay," Fushimi Roku interrupted, "Stop crying... if you keep crying, I’ll die right here!"

With those words, Minamoto Tamako really did stop crying.

She gripped her knife and fork tightly, biting her lower lip hard, her body shuddering, although tears were falling, she wasn’t crying out loud.

Fushimi Roku couldn’t stand to see her tears, wanting to end it swiftly, he continued to hint, "Actually, I do have a small regret..."

"Wh, what regret?" Minamoto Tamako sobbed as she asked.

She thought no matter what it was, she had to help Mr. Fuji Jian fulfill it, so he could pass on without regret and become a Buddha.

"I’ve never been in a relationship." Fushimi Roku put down his knife and fork, wiped his mouth, and sighed.

"You, in college, you dated someone, didn’t you?" Minamoto Tamako hadn’t forgotten.

"That was a lie to you; after all, being this age without ever being in a relationship is too embarrassing, you’d definitely look down on me for it..."

"I wouldn’t!!"

Minamoto Tamako slapped both hands on the table, stood up, her tear-filled eyes staring at Fushimi Roku, loudly saying, "I’ve never been in a relationship either! That kind of thing... that kind of thing is obviously amazing!!"

"Ah, I see." Fushimi Roku looked up at her, patiently waiting for her to continue, "Then do you think someone like me could have a girl like me?"

Although this approach was a bit cruel, it was effective. In his heart, he silently cheered Minamoto Tamako on, hoping she would take the initiative to confess to him—he had even thought up the responses for her, like ’I like you,’ ’Mr. Fuji Jian is a good person,’ ’Please go out with me’...

Come on, Yuzi Beast!

Just a little more!