| This drama starts right before Aya is confronted with the illness, Spinocerebellar Degeneration, in which the nerve cells of areas necessary for the human body to move and balance – including the cerebellum, brain stem, and spinal cord – transform and eventually disappear. The opening scene, something of a tribute to the first moments of Kurosawa Akira's Ikiru, juxtaposes MRI scans of an SCD brain with sequences of Aya, for one of the last times, playing a skilled game of basketball. Mizuno, who will become Aya's physician, describes the cellular structure of the brain in a very textbook fashion; this kind of discourse contrasts with the energetic, teenage thrill that Aya and her teammates experience in winning their basketball game. This kind of contrast will become an important theme in the dramatic ambience of this story: where do personal tragedies and empirical research interconnect? Mizuno's entire career has been an emotional tug of war between the sober view of scientific pathology and the emotional intimacy of his patient's inevitable deaths. Ikeuchi Aya (Sawajiri Erika), a 15 year old girl, is the eldest daughter in a normal Japanese family. She lives with her reliable mother, Shioka, who works as a nutritionist, her father, Mizuo, the wacky owner of a tofu shop, her quiet younger brother, Hiroki, and two younger sisters, the sarcastic Ako and innocent Rika. On the day of her high school entrance exam, she left the house full of energy, but she missed her stop to get off the bus and walk to her high school because she fell asleep. She quickly got off and ran from the bus in the rain when she discovered she was late. She slipped, fell down and injured her knee. At that time, she met Haruto Aso, who was trying to skip the exam. He gave her a ride to school, the administrators allowed them to take the exam (despite the fact that Haruto was uninterested in taking it), which they both later passed. The new semester began, Aya and Haruto were in the same class, and both were elected as the representative of their class. Aya also joined the basketball team, and was reunited with the boy who she was fond of from the male basketball team. Just as she was beginning to enjoy her high school days, Aya starts to experience some physical difficulties. She always dropped food from her chopsticks, could not estimate the distance of the objects in front of her, could not pour water into a cup without spilling it, and occasionally wobbled while walking. Her mother, Shioka, who was the only one to notice the physical changes in Aya, started to worry about what was going on. One day, Aya is about to leave home as usual. When she starts to run, she trips over her own feet and falls. She couldn't protect herself with her arms while falling, causing her to land on her face - making her bleed heavily. This injury soon reveals the existence of Aya's fateful disease. Shioka, because of her training as a health consultant, possesses a degree of observation that the other drama characters do not. What disturbed her about Aya's fall was that, as Aya fell forward, she did not instinctively throw out her hands to break the fall, as people normally would do. Hence, she landed hard on her chin, because her body did not automatically move to support her. Shioka relates this detail to Dr Mizuno who, with a decade of neurological experience, immediately suspects something terrible is wrong. He orders MRI scans to be conducted--the ones in fact we see in this episode's opening sequence--which provide unequivocal proof that Aya's brain is, in fact, dying. In a rather matter-of-fact manner, he tells Shioka to prepare for the worst: accept the cruelty of this disorder, and make preparations immediately. Aya will, inch by inch, lose control of her body, even as her mind remains intact and terrified. Mizuno's brusque demeanour, as will be related in a later episode, is the culmination of having seen many young patients pass away over his career. In his mind, the only option for the future is to be fully aware of the seriousness of the present. |
| This powerful drama concludes in a final episode that chronicles the most serious decline in Aya's motor skills due to her condition. Aya's ability to control a pen is deteriorating rapidly; she continues writing in her diary, but the process has become intensely cumbersome. However, Takano, a volunteer at Aya's school for the disabled, has been publishing excerpts of her work in various magazines, gradually attracting a wider audience, of which will number in the millions after Aya's death. Asô, at Aya's request, has broken off all contact--but he keeps her love letter, and symbolic dolphin pendent, in his desk where he studies in pursuit of a medical career. The quick progress of Aya's sickness shocks Mizuno and his colleagues. Aware that she more and more resembles others who have succumbed to the disease, Aya acknowledges that every day, a large piece of her dies, in terms of the use of her body. Mizuno pursues his research goals, but the results have been insufficient. He struggles between a general sense of hopelessness against an indomitable illness, and the courageous example set by Aya, which inspires him to fight for a cure in his scientific work. Nonetheless, the general hospital community expresses concern that the time and money spent in looking for a cure might be better invested elsewhere. Life for the Ikeuchi family continues--and they find many inventive strategies to include Aya in the family narrative. Rika draws pictures of the tôfu shop, and their shiba dog, Ganmo, to keep Aya company. But signs of Aya's rapid degeneration are everywhere: she needs a bib to eat, her speech is increasingly slurred, and her general mobility impaired. Nonetheless, the family strives to treasure every moment as unique and special. Ako's artistic talents have become considerable, and she has won a local competition for an oil portrait, based on the photograph taken in episode one. It is now hung in Aya's high school, where Ako studies hard in honour of her sister. The family, at Aya's request, make a brief visit to the school--where Aya experiences a rush of flashbacks which remind her of what she now considers her older, lost self. Hauntingly, Aya overhears a school choir practising the same song which she herself had conducted five years ago. Rather than pity the vast difference in her physical changes, Aya expresses thank you in her heart for the memories. One day, admiring the blossoms in a potted plant given to her by Asô, Aya steps out of bed to go water the buds. But she collapses immediately: despite her intense efforts at rehabilitation therapy, she has lost all ability to walk. This is the moment that she has long dreaded, as she knows this will be a depressing marker in regards to the severity of her illness and its eventual outcome. Aya's friends and relatives respond in different ways to the harsh reality. Shioka tells Aya, "I'm strong enough to carry you!" but she expresses private frustration at her own uselessness. Asô's father stands outside Aya's room, but never enters. He sadly thinks about how cruel and anonymous fate is, and Aya's father gradually grows tired and no longer able to repress his emotions. Aya's own panic and fear intensify; she croaks out to her mom: "Kowai!" I'm scared. But, remembering her mother's encouragement to share her feelings, she says earnestly that writing will be her reason for living. As long she can write, she will survive and hope--through writing, she will find a reason to live. "Writing is evidence that I am still alive," she explains. Asô overhears a group of medical students speaking awkwardly to Aya; and he politely rebukes them for not showing the kind of professional care that a real doctor most possess. (A theme of this drama is how society attempts to integrate, shun, or experiment with disabled persons. Asô, who has come out of his reclusive shell, now understands that art and compassion are as important as science and data.) Asô and Dr Mizuno have a personal discussion about the medical profession: a doctor must be detached, yet cannot help but feel the pain of his patient. That, for Dr Mizuno, has been the curse and blessing of his job: his patients, despite his best efforts, become part of his personal life, encouraging and inspiring him by their example, but breaking his heart with their death. Dr Mizuno recognises that, for Asô, Aya will always be a part of his future, both in love and in medicine. Mizuno paraphrases Aya when he says, "A doctor must never give up." Mizuno, in a gesture of one doctor to a future one, gives Asô a postcard addressed to Aya, written by a young high school girl who has the same disease. Asô, despite Aya's request in the letter, pays one last visit to see her. He does not attempt to give her false hope or deny the horror of her condition; instead, he reads to her the postcard, to prove to Aya that her oft-stated wish--to help people--has been fulfilled in ways she could have never predicted. The postcard describes how Aya's words encouraged not to dwell on death, but to fight with all of her soul in the present moment. Aya uses all of her strength to push the bedcurtains aside and look on Asô once more. She says, "Even though I cannot walk . . . I've helped people. I've helped people!" But the relentless cruelty of Aya's disease does not slow down. She is clearly nearing the point where any voluntary movement will become impossible. Thus Dr Mizuno, approving Aya's request, allows her to make a return home for Christmas. The family decides that, since this will most likely be the clan's last time together as one at home, that they will fill the time with as much love and joy as possible. In the spirit that marks the Ikeuchi family throughout the series, they chose joy over sorrow, to make a holiday of gratitude rather than regrets. In this way, Shioka reads a letter written by Aya, as she hands out gifts from her. Shioka explains, through Aya's writing, that each gift has a special symbolic value. In fact, every item includes a story addressed to each family member, which describes both Aya's sense of apology but also gratitude, in appreciation for the sacrifices unique to each of her siblings. This occasion will be the last time that they will spend together in such happiness. Aya continues to become more and more incapacitated: in a moment foreshadowed in earlier episodes, she must now use a hiragana-card to spell out what she can non longer pronounce. Asô and his father have their first honest, non-judgmental conversation, words which mark a very defining shift in their relationship. Asô's father acknowledges that he has transposed his regrets over his son's death onto Asô, and unfairly pushed him in his career options. Moreover, he also admits that his advice to avoid Aya had meant to be helpful. But he knows now that only Asô can truly what should be done in terms of his obvious love for Aya. No one can advise him. Asô recalls some of the nihilistic things he said to Aya when they first met. To make amends, and to tell Aya how he now appreciates the true beauty of life more because of her, Asô visits Aya for the last filmed occasion. Snow is falling quietly, and the air is chilled. (The weather is now an objective correlative to the song 'Konayuki', or 'Powdered Snow' by Remioromen, which has consistently been Asô and Aya's special theme music throughout the series. The camera zooms in through the flurries to show Asô at Aya's bedside.) Aya finds it too cumbersome to spell out words, so she points to her diaries, and asks Asô to read them aloud. While Asô recites passages from Aya's diary (actual passages in fact from the real-life Kitô Aya), Aya slowly falls asleep as a montage of memories fills her mind: of her meeting with Asô, of carefree school days, but also horrible moments, such as when she couldn't operate the phone to call her mother. When Asô reaches the word 'atashi' [feminine 'I'], the voicing shifts over to Aya, who narrates her own summary as to how society has treated her, and how she has treated herself, because of her disability. Asô finishes all of the diaries, sobbing, with Aya's line, "Kekkon dekiru?" "Will I be able to get married?" Aya then falls asleep exhausted: a dream of her playing basketball fills her with peace. In her dreams, she sees Asô, set in a deliberate reconsideration of a historical encounter earlier. In the factual encounter, Aya was struggling to make a basket, because her illness had robbed her of the ability to throw a ball effectively. Asô had to help her clean up the dozens of balls which had fallen short of their target, a sign of Aya's failing body. However, now in her dream near death, she can score each basket beautifully--and Asô looks on, lovingly. The dream sequence, however, violently ends as an alarm bell sounds in the hospital ward. The timeline has accelerated five years, and Aya's condition is now very critical. Dr Mizuno attempts to revive her, but the true cruelty of the disease, the slowly encroaching moment of death, has finally come. The family screams out her name in the night. A year later, Aya's parents are visiting her grave during o-Bon. They are surprised to find Dr Mizuno there, but he assures them of how incredibly important Aya had been to him both as a doctor and as a person. Indeed, most poignantly, it is Dr Mizuno--who throughout the series has been rather hardened and clinical due to his years of experience with this illness--that now offers the final and most heartfelt summary of Aya's specialness. He says, simply, "She was a great person." With those words, in the final scene, the camera pans to reveal a massive parade of people in funeral attire walking up the hillside--some sick, others healthy but all bearing roses to lay on Aya's gravemarker. Aya *is* a great person: her words live on. Aya didn't write for literary fame, to win acclaim or the Akutagawa Prize, or for money. She wrote, because as she said, "My writing is proof that I am alive." By documenting her own unique spirit, both its horrors and its bravery, Aya made such an extraordinary impact. Thus, the final scene proves how Kitô Aya's real-life diary can be understood as quantifiably apparent by the waves of human gratitude, real people, who have come to say, "Thank you, Aya." |
