Sayonara Eri

When his mother is diagnosed with a terminal illness, young Yuta clutches his phone like a lifeline, desperately filming every fleeting moment of her final days. Through the cold glow of his screen, he attempts to preserve her smile, her voice, and the mundane yet precious fragments of a life slipping away. But no amount of footage can stop the inevitable, and after her quiet passing, Yuta finds himself hollowed out by grief, unable to see a future beyond the hospital walls that held her last breaths. Driven by a suffocating emptiness, he climbs to the hospital rooftop, intending to end his own life in the same place where so much of his sorrow was born. Yet just as he stands at the precipice of that final decision, his solitude is broken by the arrival of an enigmatic girl—a strange, unpredictable presence who seems entirely out of place amidst the sterile despair of the rooftop. Rather than offering pity or platitudes, she ignites an unexpected spark within him, pulling Yuta back from the edge with a proposition that feels both absurd and impossibly compelling. Under her peculiar influence, Yuta's camera, once a tool for mourning, finds a new purpose. What begins as a chance encounter transforms into an obsessive creative collaboration, as the grieving boy channels his raw anguish into the chaotic, mesmerizing process of making a movie. Together, they blur the lines between reality and fiction, memory and invention, forcing Yuta to confront the true nature of the story he is trying to tell—and whether any film can ever truly capture the people we lose.