The road ahead was longer than I expected. The sun was slowly retreating behind the hills, painting the sky with the sad colors of autumn: a pale orange, and a red tinged with purple.
I sat in the back seat of the small bus, feeling the name "Hakurai" printed on my ticket, as if it were the last thread connecting me to what remained of my truth.
Through the window, rows of pine trees passed by, their branches swaying with a gentle breeze that reminded me of the rustling of maple leaves from my childhood. The scent of the forest mingled with the smell of damp wood, making my heart beat strangely, as if whispering that I was approaching something I had long fled from.
Along the roadside appeared small humble houses; some abandoned, some inhabited by people who seemed to guard a secret they did not wish to share.
The closer we got to the mountains, the colder it became. I took out my coat and wrapped myself in it, but the chill running down my spine wasn't just from the cold—it was the thought that I was about to meet someone who might hold answers... or perhaps more questions.
The bus began climbing the narrow bends. Rocks occasionally fell, and the driver carefully pressed the brakes. Finally, the bus stopped at a small station no bigger than an old café and a few dilapidated wooden houses.
He's here. Hakurai.
I took down my bag and took a deep breath. Only one step remained... but it was heavier than I imagined.
I knocked softly on the door. Moments later, it opened, and a man in his mid-fifties stood before me, staring with cautious eyes and asking in a low voice:
"Yes? Who are you?"
I replied quietly, "Sorry to bother you... I just wanted a few minutes of your time."
He studied me for a few seconds, then stepped aside and said, "Please come in."
I entered a small, simply tidy room, filled with the scent of old wood and warm tea. We sat facing each other, and he kept looking at me suspiciously.
Finally, he said, "Is this about something specific?"
I answered hesitantly, "Yes... actually, I came about an old case, from several years ago. Shinzo Hospital."
I noticed a slight tension in his gaze, but he said nothing, so I continued: "The case of the doctor who was accused after a patient died during surgery... I know you were the one who handed over the files that helped expose part of the truth to the journalist Ryo Matsuda."
His face froze for a moment, then he looked at me long as if something was starting to become clear. He furrowed his brow slightly and said hesitantly, "…I know you. Yes... now I remember your face."
He smiled sadly and spoke in a soft voice, "You are... Dr. Takeshi."
I felt my name hadn't been uttered like that in a long time.
He continued, bowing his head slightly, "You were wronged, you and your family. I remember everything that happened... your reputation was tarnished, your life collapsed. Later, I heard about your son... and what the father of the child who died in that operation did."
He paused for a moment, then said, "It wasn't your fault."
I said nothing. He went on: "I worked in maintenance, and I saw with my own eyes how faulty devices were brought in and used as if they were new. The hospital bought them cheaply, ignored the faults, and sometimes forged safety reports."
He sighed, eyes heavy: "When I saw what happened to you, I couldn't stay silent. I didn't do it for heroism, but for my humanity. You were a respected doctor, and no one ever complained about you. What happened... was beyond anyone's capacity."
He coughed a little, then slowly got up and brought a teapot. He poured a cup and handed it to me without looking at me. I stared at the rising steam, as if the words that needed to be said were rising with it.
Returning to his seat, he said, "I remember that day well... the day of the operation. The atmosphere was tense. A new batch of artificial valves had arrived a few days before. An unusual type. But the administration pressured us to use them immediately."
I replied calmly, "I don't remember being notified of any change in the device type. No warnings were raised."
He nodded bitterly, "The Shinzo hospital administration was corrupt. They bought devices from the company Teka that were unfit for use, but money blinded the administration."
I looked at him carefully and asked, "So why did you decide, specifically, to send those files? You had no role in the medical decisions."
He was silent for a moment, then said, "Maybe... because I saw you that day, after the accident, standing in the fourth-floor hallway, silent, as if you were outside another world. Everyone was looking for someone to blame to calm the anger. But you... it was like you didn't belong to all of this."
He lowered his eyes and added, "At that moment, I told myself... this man doesn't deserve what awaits him."
And months later, after your son's death, I saw your wife's face... I felt ashamed of myself."
I whispered, "And you didn't fear for yourself? For your family?"
He answered while sipping from his cup, "I was afraid, yes... but not enough to stay silent. We all knew something was going on behind the scenes. Those who didn't stay silent were silenced. Some were transferred, some forced to resign, and others... disappeared quietly."
I asked, "When did you send the files? Right after the operation?"
He nodded slowly, "When I read the investigation committee's report. It didn't mention any defect in the device, or warnings from the company, or maintenance notes. The report was polished, as if everything was normal."
He sighed and continued, "I felt like I was an accomplice in a crime, even with my silence. I kept copies of everything: reports, correspondences, records. I couldn't destroy them."
I asked, "Why did you choose that particular journalist?"
He said, "I saw him in reports attacking the same company. He wasn't like the others. He didn't just chase bold headlines. He dug into the details. I met him and gave him the files."
He was silent, then added, "When the investigations were published, for a moment I felt I did something right, even if late."
I moved forward a little and said quietly, "I don't know if the time is really late... but what I know is that what you did saved what was left of my humanity."
He looked at me for a long moment, then said, "You were a good doctor, Dr. Takeshi. Even in your worst moments, you never lost your ability to look people in the eye."
I smiled bitterly. I didn't respond. Then I stood quietly and placed the cup on the table.
"Will you stay tonight?" he asked.
I hesitated a bit, looking at the cup whose warmth was fading.
I answered without raising my eyes, "I haven't decided yet... I didn't mean to stay, I just wanted to understand."
He nodded slowly and said in a practical tone, "There aren't many options here. The nearest inn is far away, and the road after dark is unsafe."
He glanced around the place silently, then said, "I have a spare room. Simple, but enough for one night."
I looked at him, searching for the intention behind his words. I found only honest logic.
Finally, I said quietly, "If it's not a burden... I'll stay."
He pointed toward the hallway, "Follow me."
We rose silently and walked through a narrow wooden corridor, our steps making a soft creaking on the old floor. He opened a side door and entered a small room with wooden walls, a low bed, and a neatly folded blanket.
He said without turning, "This was my son's room. He used to visit me sometimes. He hasn't come in a while."
He pointed to the key in the door: "Lock it if you want. The place is safe."
I nodded silently, and he quietly left and closed the door.