MMB Chapter 172 Watching the White Tower with the Izumi Family
Chapter 172 Watching the White Tower with the Izumi Family
Chapter 172 Watching the White Tower with the Izumi Family (Ending)
The atmosphere after dinner carried the unique languor and warmth of the first month of the lunar calendar.
The sound of running water and the clinking of porcelain came from the kitchen; Mrs. Kamachi was washing dishes with spring water and Akina. Akina, as a guest, wasn't supposed to help, but she insisted on doing so, even challenging the spring water to a contest of who could wash the dishes cleaner.
In the living room, the television volume was turned down very low.
Kitahara Shinwa and Izumi's father, Kamachi Mitsuyuki, sat facing each other, with two cups of hot tea in front of them.
Mitsuyuki Kamachi is a typical Showa-era man, a top driving instructor at a local driving school. Years of exposure to the wind and sun have given him a tanned complexion, and his eyes reveal a sharp, professional gaze that can tell at a glance whether "this kid can drive" or "this kid is steady on his feet."
"that----"
Mitsuyuki Kamachi picked up his teacup, blew on it to warm it, glanced towards the kitchen, and then lowered his voice to ask, "Kitahara-kun, it might be a bit abrupt to ask—but are you and our Sachiko (Izumi's real name) really just good friends?"
This question is not unexpected.
No matter how well the spring water was concealed, and even with Akina covering for him, the look in his eyes couldn't be hidden. That dependence, that trust, that light in his eyes when he looked at the other person—how could a father not see it?
Kitahara Shin put down his teacup.
He didn't answer immediately, but glanced out the window at the courtyard. The winter night air was cold, and moonlight shone on the withered grass.
"Uncle, it's stuffy inside. Would you like to go out into the yard for a smoke?"
Pu Chi Guangyuki paused for a moment, then the smile in his eyes deepened.
"Okay. Let's go."
Under the corridor of the courtyard.
The two men stood side by side. A gust of cold wind blew, dissipating much of the smell of alcohol from the dinner table.
Kitahara Shin took out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, first offering one to Kamachi Mitsuyuki, and then lighting one up himself.
"Click."
The silver Zippo lighter sparked beautifully in his hand.
This is the one that Akina Nakamori gave him.
He lit the lamp for Puchi Mitsuyuki first, and then lit his own.
Amidst the swirling smoke, neither man spoke; they simply gazed silently at the night sky.
After a while, Kitahara Shin flicked his cigarette ash and said calmly, "Uncle, since you asked, I won't hide it from you."
He turned his head and looked directly into the father's eyes: "Yes. Sachiko and I are dating."
There were no excuses, no nonsense about "keeping it a secret for the sake of the business," just a straightforward admission.
Pu Chi Guangxing took a deep drag of his cigarette and exhaled it slowly, as if he wanted to expel all the pent-up frustration from his chest.
"I knew it."
He gave a wry smile, then his gaze became somewhat complicated as he pointed to another figure wiping the table inside the room: "And—where is the other Miss Nakamori?"
This is what's giving him the biggest headache.
It's one thing for a daughter to bring her boyfriend home, but to bring back another celebrity who is clearly "closely related" to her boyfriend as well? This is really putting an elderly person's heart to the test.
Kitahara Shin was silent for two seconds.
He did not evade the question, nor did he lie.
He simply nodded.
"7
Pu Chi Guangxing looked at the young man in front of him.
Logically, he should throw the cigarette butt on the ground, grab the kid by the collar, kick him out, and yell at him for being a playboy.
However, he didn't.
In that era—the early 90s—although the bubble economy had just burst, the unrestrained spirit of the "Showa era men" still lingered. Having a few female confidantes around a successful man wasn't considered a heinous crime in that society.
More importantly, it's his eye for people.
Having worked as a driving instructor for thirty years, he has seen countless people of all kinds. Some people seem honest, but actually panic when they hold the steering wheel; others seem frivolous, but are more composed than anyone else when faced with unexpected situations.
Kitahara Shin gave him the latter feeling.
Stable, extremely stable.
"You're quite honest, kid."
Pu Chi Guangxing shook his head and chuckled, "I thought you'd make up a whole bunch of reasons to fool this old man. I didn't expect you to not even bother pretending."
"There's no point in lying to you. Besides, I genuinely want to be good to them," Kitahara Shin said.
"Alright."
Mitsuyuki Kamachi waved his hand and stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray on the railing: "As long as Sachiko is happy and doesn't come running back to me crying and complaining, I have no objection. You young people can handle this yourselves."
At this point, he suddenly reached out and patted Kitahara Shin heavily on the shoulder: "But to be honest, after meeting you in person, I have a very good feeling about you. My intuition is always very accurate; you're a man who can handle things. Entrusting our daughter to you—I'm not too worried."
Kitahara Shin was somewhat taken aback, then gave a sincere smile.
"Thank you, Uncle."
Nine o'clock in the evening.
The living room of the Pu Chi family became a temporary "screening room".
As it's a special New Year's programming, Fuji Television has decided to air two episodes back-to-back tonight, marking the finale of "The White Tower."
The coffee table was covered with oranges and snacks.
Mitsuyuki Kamachi sat in the main seat in the center, surrounded by Mrs. Kamachi, Izumi, Akina, and Izumi's younger siblings. Nobuyuki Kitahara sat on a single sofa a little further away, peeling an orange.
The TV screen lights up.
The penultimate episode.
The plot takes a sharp turn for the worse.
They lost the lawsuit.
The once arrogant Goro Zaizen lost in court. Shortly after, he collapsed at the airport and was diagnosed with late-stage lung cancer.
This is the cruelest mockery of fate for him—as the best cancer expert in all of Japan, he is about to die of cancer.
"well----"
Looking at the screen where Zaizen Goro aged so quickly, Kamachi Mitsuyuki couldn't help but sigh.
"This is too tragic—although he did something wrong, this retribution is too severe."
Spring Water's younger brother was holding a rice cracker, but forgot to eat it.
He glanced at Professor Zaizen on TV, whose face was ashen and eyes were vacant, and then stole a glance at Kitahara Shin, who was sitting next to him eating an orange as if nothing had happened.
"Brother Xin————"
The younger brother swallowed hard. "Your acting is so convincing! It's like you're really about to die."
Akina and Izumi leaned against each other, their hands clasped tightly together.
Although they knew it was acting, seeing their loved ones suffer on screen still felt like being pricked by needles.
at last.
The final episode, the final moments.
Goro Zaizen is now bedridden. Cancer cells have spread like rampant vines across his once-proud body, eventually reaching his brain.
The ward was filled with suffocating white.
Only the monotonous beeping of the electrocardiogram monitor: "Beep—beep—beep—"
'
At that moment, it was as if time had stopped throughout Japan.
From snow-covered Hokkaido to warm, humid Okinawa, a deathly silence fell over the living rooms of tens of millions of homes.
No one spoke, no one changed the channel, and even the usually noisiest children were too scared to utter a sound by the adults' expressions.
Everyone held their breath, watching the man's final moments.
on the screen.
Goro Zaizen lay on his hospital bed. The once spirited and confident professor was now emaciated, his eyes sunken. His cloudy eyes stared blankly at the ceiling, where there was nothing, but to him, it was perhaps just the operating lights.
Suddenly, he smiled.
That smile was as pure as a child's, devoid of the scheming and calculations of the past, devoid of the desire for fame and fortune, leaving only the most primal and pure obsession with medicine.
He slowly raised his withered hands.
In the void.
He grasped the unseen scalpel.
"————Pinky promise."
He muttered to himself, his voice weak, yet carrying an undeniable authority.
Fingers flew across the keyboard.
Cut, separate, ligate.
That level of proficiency was terrifying. Even in the last second of his life, even in the delirium of hallucination, his muscle memory remained flawless.
That was his lifelong pride and his only belief.
"Mr. Sasaki————"
He was speaking to the patient he had killed, his tone devoid of remorse, only displaying an almost obsessive insistence: "Look—I cut it clean, didn't I—"
"I am the best doctor."
The hand froze in mid-air for a moment.
Then, it drooped limply.
"Beep"
The electrocardiogram showed a glaringly straight line.
The deathly silence in the living room was broken by a suppressed sob.
"Waaah————"
Spring's younger sister was the first to break down, covering her mouth and crying out loud, with large tears streaming down her face.
Immediately afterwards, Mrs. Puchi was also secretly wiping away tears, the tissue in her hand already soaked with sweat.
Even the usually tough guy, who prided himself on "not shedding tears even when bleeding," took off his reading glasses. He turned away somewhat awkwardly, roughly wiping his eyes with his large, rough hands, and muttered in a hoarse voice, "—Bastard. Why die so dramatically?"
Tokyo, Shinagawa Ward, Sato House.
Xiao Jian, who always argues with his dad, is now staring blankly at the TV, holding a half-eaten potato chip.
He has always disliked Goro Zaizen.
He thought that guy was a bad guy, a villain who would kill people.
However, when Xiao Jian saw that the villain was still performing surgery before he died, still proving that he was the best doctor, he suddenly felt a tightness in his chest.
"dad----"
Xiao Jian turned his head and found that his father, who usually only yelled at him and only told him to eat vegetables, was now looking up at the ceiling with red eyes.
He understood Zaizen Goro.
It was a tragedy of a man who burned himself out in his quest to climb the social ladder, only to die alone at the summit.
"Don't speak."
Mr. Sato's voice choked with emotion, "I've finished reading it. See him off."
Keio University School of Medicine, male dormitory.
There was no crying here, only a suffocating silence.
A group of medical students, who are usually proud and arrogant, are now gathered in front of the television, their expressions solemn as if they are attending a real funeral.
"Did you see that?"
A senior student broke the silence, pointing to the now-black screen, his fingers trembling: "That 'air ligation' technique just now—it was a one-handed knot tying. The speed was even faster than what we showed in our textbooks!"
.
"Even if it's acting, even if it's an illusion—he did it to the extreme."
Some people lowered their heads, while others silently clenched their fists.
Whether they support Dr. Satomi's idealism or admire Dr. Zaizen's realism, at this moment, all arguments seem pale and powerless.
They only saw a soul who dedicated his life to surgery.
"—Professor, may you rest in peace."
Someone whispered something.
Everyone in the dormitory stood up in unison and bowed deeply to the television screen.
Ginza, a high-class club.
Business was terrible tonight.
Even the hostesses who work at the bar have lost interest in their jobs.
In the lounge, a group of women dressed in gorgeous kimonos were gathered around a small television, their makeup ruined from crying.
"Waaaaah—Poor Keiko—"
"Zaizen, that heartless man, didn't even say 'I loved you' in the end, he just kept thinking about surgery—"
A madam, touching up her makeup, muttered with red eyes, "Men, it seems, in the end, all they love is their careers. But—they're fucking handsome."
From the snowfields of Hokkaido to the office buildings of Tokyo, and then to the fishing villages of Kyushu.
That night, the whole of Japan was overwhelmed by an emotion known as "Zaizen Goro".
The giant tower collapsed.
The TV series has finished airing.
But the lingering shock of that experience lasted a long time.
To ease the heavy atmosphere at home, Kitahara Nobu offered to play Go with Kamachi Mitsuyuki.
"Shogi?"
Pu Chi Guangyu became interested, "I know quite a few things, so don't lose too badly."
"Give it a try."
The chessboard is set up.
Kitahara Shin didn't actually understand the complex opening sequences of shogi. But he had an unfair advantage: an exceptional memory and precise execution.
In addition, his training in logic as an actor in his previous life enabled him to quickly memorize his opponent's moves and imitate and counterattack.
"Smack."
"Smack."
The sound of the chess pieces falling was crisp and pleasant.
At first, Mitsuyuki Kamachi was in the mood to "guide a junior," but after a dozen or so moves, his expression changed.
This kid—why is he getting more and more cunning?
"General."
Kitahara Shin smiled as he placed his last piece.
"Oops! I was careless! Let's try again!" Mitsuyuki Kamachi refused to give up and rearranged the pieces.
While the father-in-law and son-in-law were arguing animatedly, the women here were chatting.
Mrs. Kamachi brought over a plate of fruit and looked at Izumi, who was watching a game of Go: "Sachiko, how long do you plan to stay this time? Are you going back to Tokyo tomorrow?"
The spring water paused for a moment.
She turned her head and looked at the back of the figure who was chatting and laughing with her father.
The heartwarming scene melted her heart. She didn't want it to end so soon.
"Believe in me—"
She called out softly.
Kitahara Shin turned around, still holding a "Katsura" coin in his hand.
He saw the expectation in the spring's eyes, a longing for home.
"Tomorrow is still here."
Kitahara Shin nodded with a smile without any hesitation: "Our schedule isn't tight. We can stay an extra day, or even two more. I'd also like to try more of Auntie's cooking."
"real?"
Quanshui's eyes lit up, and a smile instantly bloomed on her face.
"That's great!"
Kamachi Mitsuyuki slapped his thigh happily, "In that case, let's go do something else tomorrow! There's a Tanzawa Lake nearby, it's a great place for fishing. Kitahara-kun, do you know how to fish?"
fishing?
Kitahara Shin raised an eyebrow.
In his system equipment inventory, that old fishing rod belonging to the Showa Taisho had been gathering dust for a long time.
"I know a little."
Kitahara Shin said modestly, "But I've always been lucky."
"Haha! It's settled then! We'll set off first thing tomorrow morning to go fishing for big fish!"
late at night.
The Pu Chi family fell silent.
Everyone went back to their rooms to rest. Kitahara Shin stayed in a guest room on the second floor. The room wasn't big, but the bedding was warm from the sun and smelled of sunshine.
He lay in bed, listening to the wind outside the window, but he couldn't fall asleep.
"Click".
The door lock clicked softly.
-
Kitahara Shin sat up alertly, thinking it was spring water.
But what came in wasn't spring water.
By the moonlight, he saw that familiar figure.
Akina Nakamori.
She was wearing a loose nightgown, her long hair draped over her shoulders, and her unmade-up face looked exceptionally clean, but also revealed a vulnerability rarely seen in her.
She didn't say anything, closed the door, and went straight to the bedside.
Then, like a kitten seeking refuge, she threw off the covers and snuggled into his arms.
"What's wrong?"
Kitahara Shin was somewhat surprised and instinctively hugged her tighter.
The body in my arms was a little cold and was still trembling slightly.
Akina buried her face in his chest, her voice muffled and slightly nasal: "—I miss my family. But I don't miss them either."
99
Kitahara Shin remained silent.
He knew about Akina's family situation. It was a vampire-like family; her parents and brothers treated her like a cash cow, willing to sell her privacy for money, and even after her suicide attempt, they were still scheming to seize her assets.
This is also the root of her sensitive personality and lack of security.
Today at Pu Chi’s house, seeing the happy family of Quan Shui, and seeing Quan Shui being loved unconditionally by her parents, how could she not be moved?
That was something she longed for but could never have.
"Seeing the spring water so happy—I'm so envious."
Akina looked up, tears glistening in the corners of her eyes: "It's a pity, I can never go back. My home—it's long gone."
Kitahara Shin looked at her.
The charismatic singer who exudes confidence on stage is now as fragile as a porcelain doll that could shatter at the slightest touch.
He didn't spout any grand principles.
He simply reached out and hugged her tighter, letting her head rest on his shoulder.
"fine."
He whispered in her ear, his tone firm: "The old home is gone, so be it."
"From now on, I am your family."
"Cry if you want to cry, laugh if you want to laugh. In this family, no one will scheme against you, and no one will force you to do anything you don't like."
Akina's body stiffened for a moment.
Then, she clutched Kitahara Shin's pajamas tightly, and tears streamed down her face silently.
"----Fool."
She choked back tears and cursed, "Trying to look cool at a time like this."
"Yeah, I'm an idiot."
Kitahara Shin gently patted her back, as if comforting a wronged child.
That night, they did nothing.
They simply fell asleep in each other's arms.
Akina nestled in his arms, inhaling the faint scent of tobacco and his warm presence, and for the first time felt that the black hole of "loneliness" was being filled in.
Moonlight streamed onto the bedside.
This isn't her hometown, but right now, it's her home.
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