I Want to Eat Your Pancreas

by Yoru Sumino

  Eventually, I’ll have to tell Kyōko about my illness. But not until the very end. I want us to still have fun together. I’d better apologize here in case she ever reads this. Kyōko, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I was dying.

  She writes about finishing ninth grade, moving on to high school, and celebrates this time of her life with Kyōko-san. A year passes, and she’s a second-year student. She senses her end is coming, but she still strives to live a joyful life. Her words etch themselves deep in my soul.

  June 15—

  I’m more and more a high school student now. I thought hard about joining a club but eventually decided not to. Some of the cultural clubs sounded better than the sports clubs, but I finally went with the “going home after school club.” I need to prioritize the time I can spend with my family and friends. Kyōko is back on the volleyball team again, playing hard every day. You go, Kyōko!

  March 12—

  Some people say falling sakura blossoms can be a melancholic sight, but that’s how I feel when they bloom, too. I start counting how many more times I’ll be alive to see them bloom. But it’s not all bad. I think the flowers seem more beautiful to me than to anyone else my age. […]

  April 5—

  Sophomore year, here I come! I’m in the same class as Kyōko! Yay! I’m also with Hina and Rika, and on the boys’ side, Takahiro-kun. Lucky me! Well, maybe that’s where all my luck with my pancreas went. Speaking of, […]

  Then, one day, she meets me.

  We’d been in the same class before, but this was the day we met for real.

  April 22—

  For the first time, I told someone outside of my family about my illness. It’s my classmate, ****-kun. He just randomly found my book in the hospital and began reading it, so to hell with it! I told him. Maybe I’ve been wanting to tell someone. He doesn’t seem to have many friends, so I think he’ll keep my secret locked safely away. Actually, I’ve been wondering about him for a little while. We were in the same class last year, too, but I don’t know if he remembers me. He’s always reading his books. I get the feeling he’s struggling with himself. But when I tried talking to him today, he was really funny, and I liked him right away, simple as that. ****-kun seems a little different from other people. I’d like to get to know him better. He already knows my secret, anyway.

  She’d blacked out my name with ink. She must have gone back and done that after I told her not to put my name in her journal.

  From here on, her chronology overlaps with mine. There’s an entry usually every three days. Almost all of it is trivial.

  April 23—

  I’m a student librarian now. Writing my opinion down here won’t change anything, but I’ll write it anyway: What kind of school lets students switch around their activities at will?! How is this not total chaos? I tried to talk to ****-kun today, but he looked uncomfortable. Still, it looks like he’ll teach me all the library stuff anyway. I’m going to see if I can get him to talk.

  June 7—

  I aced the quiz today. Classic me! I’ve been feeling more carefree lately. Sometimes, I joke about dying to ****-kun and he scrunches up his face and says something funny. I’m slowly beginning to understand the kind of person he is. He’s definitely struggling with himself.

  June 30—

  It’s hot. I don’t hate the heat. Sweating makes me feel alive. We played basketball in gym class. ****-kun asked me not to write his name in this book. I did what he’d do and said something mean, but unlike him I’m agreeable at heart, so sometimes I let him have his way. I won’t write his name here anymore.

  I was right, then. When I keep reading, my name doesn’t appear again. I make another connection: That’s why her mother hadn’t been able to identify who she’d told about her illness. When I think about the anxiety I put her family through, and I wonder if I shouldn’t have made that request. The more I read, the stronger that feeling becomes.

  July 8—

  Someone suggested I should use my time to do the things I want. I thought about what that was, and what I came up with was… I want to do something fun with the person who told me that. I’ve been craving yakiniku, so we’re going out to eat on Sunday. […]

  July 11—

  The yakiniku was so good! I had fun today. I wish I could write more about it. Too bad. All I’ll say is that I’ll make him see how delicious offal is before I die. After I got back, I […]

  July 12—

  I had to think on my feet today. After I got to school, I got the idea to go out for something sweet, so I quickly came up with a scheme to rope him in and put it into action. I spent so much time thinking about that, I probably didn’t do so well on the exams.

  When she stopped writing my name, she also stopped writing what she thought about me. My request had been an error.

  July 13—

  I’m going to start keeping a list of the things I want to do.

  I want to go on a trip (with a boy)

  I want to eat tasty offal

  I want to eat tasty ramen

  I have an idea.

  July 15—

  I want to do something I’m not supposed to do with a boy who’s not my boyfriend.

  I’ll write about the trip when I get home.

  July 19—

  I did better on the tests than I thought! The trip was fun, too, and Kyōko has forgiven me already, so I’m feeling good about the start of summer break… And then we get assigned summer school. Dammit.

  July 21—

  Today was very bad and very good. I cried a little on my own. I cried all day.

  She must have been writing about that day—the day of our mistakes.

  That she cried alone surprises me. I feel a pain near my lungs.

  July 22—

  I’m in the hospital. They say I have to stay here for two weeks. Some numbers were wrong or something like that. I’m a little—no, I won’t lie here—I’m a lot afraid. But I’m putting up a front. Not lying to anyone. But putting up a front.

  July 24—

  I thought dancing might distract me from my worries, but someone came in my room and saw me. I was so embarrassed—and so relieved that he came—that I thought I was going to cry. So I hid. After that, we had a good time. I feel reassured now. […]

  July 27—

  Something interesting happened, but I can’t write about it. That would be against the rules. I guess I’ll write about my magic tricks instead. […]

  July 28—

  I thought I had one year left. Now it’s half.

  I stare at the entry. I haven’t been reading aloud, but I’m stunned to silence anyway.

  July 31—

  I lied today. I wonder if it’s the first time I’ve told a real lie. Someone asked me if something was going on, and I thought I was going to cry again. I almost told him. But I just couldn’t. I don’t want to let go of the normal life he brings to me. I’m weak. When will I tell him the truth?

  August 3—

  Someone was worried for me. I told another lie. How could I be honest with him when he looked so relieved? Still, I was happy. I didn’t know I could be so happy to be alive. I didn’t know he needed me this badly. I was so happy, so overjoyed, I cried and cried after he left. The only reason I’m writing this now is in hopes he’ll learn how I feel after I die. See, I’m weak. I think he didn’t catch on, though. I’ve got a better poker face than you’d think.

  August 4—

  I’ve been too wimpy lately! Enough with this depressing crap! Haven’t I already decided not to write like that?! I have half a mind to go back and erase the last few days.

  August 7—

  Okay, so this isn’t something from today, but something I’ve been doing during this whole stay—I’ve been trying to get a certain two people to run into each other as much as I can. I want them to be friends, but there’s a long way to go. (Ha ha!) I hope they can start getting along before I die. I’ve been learning a new magic trick, and it’s a big one! I
can’t wait to show it off. […]

  August 10—

  I’ve decided what we’re going to do when I get out of here. We’re going to the ocean. I think something like that is just what we need. I think we need to slow ourselves down or we’ll keep going until we’ve gone all the way. (Ha ha!) Not saying that would be terrible, just…not so rushed. Anyway, the magic trick is complicated. […]

  August 13—

  I finally ate my first watermelon of the summer today (I know). I like watermelon better than cantaloupe. My likes haven’t changed much since I was a little kid. That doesn’t mean I always love offal no matter what. I hate hearing kids noisily chomping away on honeycomb tripe. I explained the rules of this book to my mom. I’ll write them down just to be safe. You are absolutely not allowed to show this book to anyone outside our family until a certain person comes to take it. You’re not to try to get any hints about who it is out of Kyōko, either. […]

  August 16—

  I get to leave the hospital soon! Two people came for their last visits. They both told me to quit forcing them to meet, so I scheduled them separately.

  I want the three of us to go out to eat together and get along, even if only once!

  August 18—

  I leave the hospital tomorrow!!!!!!

  I’m going to enjoy every last moment I have left!

  Yeah!!!!!!!!!!!!

  Her journal cuts short there.

  I can’t believe it. I had been right to be afraid.

  Something had been going on, and she had hidden it.

  I feel something building up inside my guts. Steady, I tell myself, doing all I can to keep it together. You couldn’t have done anything about it then, and you can’t do anything about it now.

  Breathing deeply, I direct my thoughts toward the present.

  I didn’t find what I was seeking in her book. Its pages contain no clear answer to my biggest question: What was I to her? I can see I was important to her; I knew that already. But what did she call me in her thoughts?

  I’m despondent.

  I close my eyes and ease my breathing. Unintentionally, I turn this moment into one of silence, almost prayer-like.

  I close the book and notice her mother is quietly waiting for me. I softly rest the book on the tatami mat and slide it toward her.

  “Thank you,” I say.

  “There’s more.”

  The silence returns. Then I say, “What?”

  She doesn’t take the book. Her eyes, just like her daughter’s, except reddened by crying, are locked on mine as she says, “What Sakura really wanted you to read comes after that.”

  I quickly scoop up the book and flip through the blank pages.

  Near the end of the book, her writing starts up again.

  Her handwriting looks buoyant and lively and reminds me of who she was.

  My breath stops.

  Farewell Letters [rough draft] [of many]

  ——

  To whom it may concern, (all of you)

  This is my goodbye.

  If you are reading this right now, then I must be dead. (Is that too cliché?)

  I want to begin by apologizing for hiding my illness from nearly everyone. I’m truly sorry.

  Keeping this secret has been selfish of me, but I

  wanted to keep living a normal life, where we could all share in fun times and laughter. And now I’ve died without telling you.

  Some of you may have some things you wish you could have told me. If that’s true for you, then go to everyone who isn’t me and tell them the things you wish for them to know. I want you to tell them if you love them, if you hate them, and everything. They could die at any time, just like me. It’s too late to tell me now, but you can still tell them. I hope you will.

  ——

  To everyone at school, [maybe pick out a few to address directly?]

  I had so much fun studying with all of you. The cultural festival and sports day were really fun, but what most made me happy were the average days where I could just be with everyone. I’m sad I won’t be able to see where you all go and what you end up doing. Make all the memories you can and tell them to me in heaven. So no bad behavior allowed! (Ha ha!) To everyone who liked me, and everyone who didn’t, thank you.

  ——

  Mom, Dad, big brother, [probably should write separate messages here at least?]

  Thank you for everything. I love having you as my family. I really, and truly love each of you. When I was still little, we used to go on trips, the four of us. I still remember them well. I know I was a handful, to put it lightly, but I hope I grew into a daughter you could be proud of. Whatever comes next, if there’s a heaven, or reincarnation, or anything else, I want to be your daughter again. So, you two need to keep loving each other. When you’re reborn, I want you both to raise me again. I want to be a Yamauchi again, with my parents and my brother. Hrm. There’s too much I want to write. I have to figure out what to keep.

  ——

  [Okay I definitely need to write separate messages to everyone who’s important to me. I’ll rewrite the family section later.]

  ——

  Kyōko.

  I’m going to start by saying I love you.

  I love you Kyōko. There’s no mistaking it. I love you. And so, I’m sorry.

  I’m sorry I didn’t tell you until the very end. [Maybe I shouldn’t wait. Think about when to tell her.]

  I can’t ask you to forgive me.

  But please, just believe this: I loved you.

  That’s why I couldn’t tell you.

  I loved being with you. Laughing, ranting, being silly, crying… I loved all of it.

  No, not loved—love.

  Forever. Not past tense, but present and continuous. Whether I’m in heaven or if I’m reborn, I’ll always love you.

  I don’t have the courage or the strength to destroy the time I get to spend with you.

  To all my other friends, I’m sorry, but Kyōko will always be number one. Who knows, maybe I’m even in love with Kyōko. That settles it, in your next life, Kyōko, you should be born as a boy. (Ha ha!)

  Be happy, Kyōko.

  I know that whatever happens to you, you’ll be fine. Nothing can beat you.

  Find a perfect husband, have adorable babies, and build a family happier than any other.

  I really wish I could see your future family [<- Don’t cry when you write this for real.]

  I’ll always be watching over you from heaven.

  Oh, one last thing. I want you to do one thing for me. Think of it as my last request.

  There’s someone I want you to start getting along with.

  You know who it is. Yes, the boy you’re always glaring at.

  He’s a good person. He really is. Even if he teases me sometimes.

  But he is

  [I can finish writing about him later, ha]

  [Write your feelings to Kyōko better.]

  ——

  Finally, to you.

  Don’t worry, I won’t write your name.

  You. You. You, who told me not to write your name.

  So, what’s up?

  Lately—and I’m writing this summer of sophomore year—I’ve had a lot more I want to tell you.

  Let’s deal with the business stuff first.

  This book is now yours, freely.

  I’ve told my family as much. When you come to take it, they’re to give it to you.

  By freely, I mean you can do whatever you want with this book.

  Destroy it, hide it, give it away, whatever.

  As you’ve probably already seen, I’ve written letters to other people in these pages, but it’s up to you whether or not you show them.

  The moment you’re reading this, Living with Dying is now your possession. If you don’t want it, you can throw it away. (Grrrr)

  I wish I had a better way to thank you for everything you’ve given me, but it’s the best I can do.

  That watermelon you brou
ght the other day was really good. [Why am I writing about something that just happened? I guess I can just rewrite this part later.]

  Okay. I’m going to write down everything I want to tell you right now. These are my true feelings, as far as I understand them. If anything changes, I’ll rewrite this part. Although if I start hating you I won’t write about it. If that happens, I can just have Kyōko kill you, and I won’t need to bother. (Ha ha!)

  It’s only been four months since we met in the hospital. That’s so weird. I feel like I’ve spent a much, much longer time with you. I’m sure the time seems fuller because of all the things you’ve taught me.

  I already mentioned this in my journal, but the truth is I’d been curious about you for a long time. Do you know why? I’ve heard you say it often.

  The answer: You and I are opposite people.

  I’ve thought so myself.

  I’d been wanting to learn more about you, but I never had an opportunity to get closer to you. And then you happened to pick up my book. I thought, well, now we’ll just have to get along. And we did. I’m glad we did.

  Recently, I’ve been wondering every now and then if maybe we’ve been getting along a little too well.

  This thing we’re doing—sometimes I think of it as playing at being in love—it makes my heart race. So far, all we’re doing is hugging, which is fine. But I wonder, at this rate, if we’ll soon be kissing as part of our game. And there goes my heart racing again.

  Well, I guess I wouldn’t object. Does that shock you?

  I really mean it. As long as it was still make believe, I’d

  be fine.

  I wasn’t sure if I’d admit this to you, but, well, if

  you’re reading this, then I’m dead, so why not? I’ll be open with you.

  So here goes. I don’t know how many times I’ve thought that I’m in love with you. Once was when you told me about your first crush. I felt a knot in my chest. When we were drinking in our hotel room was another. The first time I hugged you.