The Hill Where Flax Blooms

5. Resolve

　In the exam room of the sanatorium, the soft, delicate sound of a wind chime echoed faintly.

　It was so quiet, it made time itself seem to slow.

　Dr. Mary had arranged for Natsu’s parents to visit Inatori.

　It would be their first—and last—time.

　Natsu’s father had red-rimmed eyes from the beginning.

　He sat stiffly, hands clenched on his knees, eyes fixed on his daughter.

　Then suddenly, as if a dam had burst, tears streamed down his face.

　I had never seen a grown man cry like that before.

　He must have known—this would be the last time.

　Natsu only kept her head bowed.

　Her mother, silent until then, stood up slowly.

　She turned to Dr. Mary and bowed deeply.

“This girl has chosen to work here as a nurse.

　We understand what that means.

　Please, let her stay by your side… until the end.”

　Her voice held no trace of hesitation.

　Then she turned to her husband and glared sharply at him.

“Stop crying and pull yourself together.

　Our daughter is putting everything on the line.

　If you're her father—then be one.”

　The man wiped his tears and gave a small nod.

“You chose this path.

　Go on—and give it everything you’ve got.”

　Natsu lifted her head and looked straight at her parents.

“Yes. I will serve until the very end…

　Thank you, for everything you’ve done.”

　At that moment, something shifted.

　The air changed.

　No one could stop her anymore.

　…What kind of family was this?

　My dad and I—could only watch, stunned.

　When a woman makes up her mind… there’s no force on Earth stronger than that.

　You can’t match it. Not even close.

　After seeing something like that,

　I had no choice but to smile—and make up my mind, too.

　The wind chime rang again.

　At that moment, I caught Dr. Mary’s eye.

　She didn’t speak.

　Just nodded.

　That was enough.

　I couldn’t even say, “Understood.”

　But I think… she knew.

“Resolve” isn’t something you say.

　It’s something you live.

　Past the streets of Atami, the road opened up along the coastline.

　The scent of the sea drifted lightly into the car.

　The sedan continued on quietly.

“Then… about a month later,”

　Grandpa’s voice sounded distant again.

“We got news. Unexpected news.”

　The car continued southward, weaving through the peninsula along the main road.

“What kind of news?”

“Easy now. I need a second to brace myself.”

　Silence settled again.

　Only the sound of the wind slipped through a crack in the window.

　After a pause, Grandpa began again—his voice steady, but heavy.

“A shipment of medicine arrived for Dr. Mary.

　Streptomycin.

　Back then, it was incredibly rare.

　The U.S. military had sent it—as part of a clinical trial offer.”

　I leaned forward without realizing.

“Then… does that mean…

　She had a chance to survive?”

“Yes.”

　Grandpa nodded.

“But she didn’t take it herself.

　She gave it to Natsu instead.”

　My breath caught.

　No words came right away.

“Why?”

　When I finally asked, my voice shook.

“Why… did she give it to Grandma?

　She could’ve… saved herself.”

　Grandpa looked out the window and gave a small, quiet smile.

“She said—

‘This medicine shouldn’t go to an old woman like me…

　It should be used for someone with a future.’”

　Her voice, as he recalled it, held no sadness, no pride.

　Just simple, unwavering clarity.

　Grandpa whispered slowly.

“I wish… just once more… I could tell her thank you.”

　The car gradually slowed… and stopped.

　When the engine turned off, the world seemed to pause with it.

“Well then.”

　Grandpa turned to look at me from the passenger seat.

“From here on… this part concerns you too.”

“Me?”

“That’s right. Listen closely.”

　…And that’s when I realized—

　This was how the thread of life had been passed down to me.

　The sunlight streamed gently through the exam room window.

　The white curtain swayed, casting soft shadows on the floor.

　Dr. Mary sat with her back straight, not showing any sign of weakness.

　If anything, she carried herself with the dignity of someone bearing a great weight.

“Natsu,”

　Her voice was quiet—but it carried something deep.

“Once you’re cured, you’ll have to choose—

　Marry Kenta,

　or transfer to a university hospital doing infectious disease research.

　It’s up to you.”

　Natsu looked up, startled.

　Then, after a pause, she spoke in a trembling voice.

“But… if you recover,

　you could save so many more people.

　So please… use the medicine yourself.”

　The air inside the room seemed to ripple with those words.

　Dr. Mary closed her eyes softly.

　When she opened them again, her face held a gentle, weary expression.

“Even if I get better… I’ll still just be an old foreigner, living alone in this country.”

　She looked out the window.

“But you two—you have a future.

　You can have children. Raise them.

　You can help them grow.

　Those who live… have to live for those who couldn’t.”

　Then she turned back to Natsu, and looked her straight in the eye.

“So if you have the chance to live—don’t give up.”

　Her words carried no command.

　Only quiet, desperate kindness.

　No one spoke.

　Only the sound of the wind remained, brushing softly through the exam room.

　From that day on,

　Natsu began working again, as Dr. Mary’s assistant—while receiving treatment herself.

　She was, of course, tireless.

　No one moved faster—whether in caregiving or recordkeeping.

　But I knew.

　I knew Dr. Mary’s body could no longer keep going.

　And still—

　She remained the last doctor…

　for those who had no one left.