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Summary
If it weren’t for the slow and methodical rise and fall of his chest, Jin’s sleeping form would resemble that of a corpse.
The room is silent, almost unnervingly so. Sunlight flickers through half-drawn curtains, strips of golden washing over beige walls and dust covered bedposts. Takaya sits upright, heaving shallow breaths in the stillness of the morning. His chest aches, paired with a dull soreness that works its way under his skin and clings incessantly to his bones. Exhaustion is embedded within him, a permanent fixture in his decaying body.
Decaying or not, this is the vessel that’s been molded for him, and there is no point in sitting and festering on the matter.