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The pain didn't begin when Suo actually disappeared. It started much earlier, in small pinpricks that Sakura chose to ignore.
The first days, when Suo's messages disappeared, Sakura felt a slight tingle in his chest. Nothing serious, but he let it go because Suo might have been absent due to illness. Besides, it was just a passing discomfort that he ended up attributing to fatigue, to the fights, to the weight of being captain.
Then came the unanswered calls. One beep after another, and then the empty voicemail. Sakura frowned, dialed again, and again. Nothing. The tingle turned into a small, tight knot just below his ribs. He must be meditating. Or sleeping. Suo needs rest too.
Lies he told himself to avoid facing the truth that was beginning to emerge.
The first real crack appeared when Sakura tried to find Suo's address. He had gone with Nirei, Kiryu, and Tsugeura on the third day his boyfriend was absent. But when they tried to locate the place his boyfriend had described in his papers, they discovered that no house existed there.
The address didn't exist.
Suo's papers at Furin were fake. His house in Makochi was an invention. He had never lived there. He had never belonged to that place the way Sakura believed.
The knot in his chest tightened, grew heavier. But Sakura pushed it down, buried it in some corner of his mind where it couldn't hurt him. He must have a reason. Suo always does things for a reason.
Because Sakura still believed in him. Despite everything. Despite the lies. Despite the silences. Despite the emptiness that grew in his chest every day that passed without an explanation.
But then came the day Nirei appeared in the park, bruised, injured, with a lost gaze and a tense voice. "I couldn't stop Suo-san."
Sakura felt the world stop. No. Suo wouldn't do that. Suo was... Suo was calm. Suo cared about them. Suo had said Nirei was his friend too. Right?
But the marks on Nirei's body didn't lie. And the way Nirei avoided his gaze, as if afraid of what Sakura might do, said too much.
Suo hit Nirei. His friend. Our friend.
The pain in Sakura's chest, the one he had been ignoring for weeks, exploded with a violence that left him breathless. It wasn't just a knot now. It was a giant hand squeezing his ribs, his lungs, his heart. He wanted to scream. He wanted to hit something. He wanted to find Suo and shake him until he gave back all the answers he owed him.
But what he wanted most, what hurt him most, was that Suo hadn't even said goodbye to him.
Nirei had received a goodbye, even if it was violent. The others had received silence. But Sakura... Sakura had received nothing. Not a message. Not a call. Not a closing word. Suo had simply vanished, as if the four months of relationship, the promises whispered in the dark, the marks on his neck, had meant nothing.
If you had already decided to leave, why couldn't you say goodbye to me? The question stuck in his mind like a thorn. Didn't I even deserve that?
But still, even with his chest burning and his heart shattered, Sakura still believed. He needed to believe. Because if he stopped believing, if he accepted that Suo had deceived him from the beginning, then everything they had built would be a lie. The knowing glances. The hands intertwined under the table. The stolen kisses on the rooftop. The way Suo looked at him as if he were the only person in the world.
It can't be a lie. Not all of it. Please, let it not all be a lie.
꒰ 𖹭 ꒱
The futon smelled of him. Only him.
Sakura lay on his back, his gaze lost on the cracked ceiling of his apartment, his black and white hair spread over the pillow. He had been like this for two days. Maybe three. He had lost count after the burning in his neck became unbearable.
His scent of bergamot and lily had turned sour, dull, sad. The mark at the junction of his neck and shoulder burned like fire, and Sakura knew that in a few days it would disappear completely.
The mark.
He didn't want to look at it. Since Suo—Hayato—left, Sakura had avoided mirrors with the same determination he avoided thinking about why he had been left behind. But the body doesn't forget. The body doesn't let you ignore an open wound.
And the mark at the junction of his neck and shoulder was exactly that: a wound. Hayato's teeth had sunk there a month ago, during that heat that Sakura remembered through a haze of warmth and desire, through pleas he never thought would leave his lips. "Mark me. I want you to know I'm yours."
Suo had hesitated. He talked about self-control, about waiting for the right moment, about it not being just a matter of impulses. But Sakura had asked, and Suo still always so strong, always so in control of himself had given in. Not completely. Just a temporary bite. "To ease your heat, Haruka. When it passes, we'll talk about completing it."
Sakura had nodded then, his body burning and his heart full of a warmth that didn't come only from the fever. He trusted him. Because Suo always did things for a reason. Because Suo was smart, too smart for his own good, and Sakura could only stay quiet when he returned soft, embarrassing words that made his heart race.
But now, a month later, the bite hadn't been completed. Suo had left. And Sakura was here, alone, feeling the bond break day by day, hour by hour, like a rope tearing fiber by fiber.
Finding out that Suo was a high-ranking commander of Champuru had been like receiving a punch to the stomach when you were already on the ground.
Sakura remembered the scene with sickening clarity. Endo, with his smile and his wavy black hair, dropping the information as if he had been waiting for it. "The eyepatch never belonged to Furin. He was always from somewhere else. He was just... observing."
Observing. As if the months together, the laughter, the fights, the knowing silences, were just data. As if the night Sakura told him his insecurities meant nothing.
But Suo had been angry that night. Sakura remembered it with painful clarity: Suo's burgundy hair framing his face, his tassel earrings swaying as he leaned forward, his single visible eye shining with a fury that wasn't directed at Sakura, but for him. "Never say your life was a mistake again. You are not a mistake."
How could that be a lie? How could anyone fake that intensity?
Sakura refused to accept it. Refused to accept that Suo had only been mocking him. That everything they shared the glances Sakura returned blushing, the hands that brushed in empty hallways, the stolen kisses on the rooftop when no one was watching was part of a game.
Suo told me he loved me. The thought was a knife slowly turning in his chest. Told me I was the cutest boy in Makochi. Touched me as if I were... valuable.
And Sakura had believed. Believed with the desperation of someone who had never had anything before. He had accepted the relationship in the privacy of his apartment, without telling anyone, because he was still insecure. Because he was afraid his classmates would doubt his ability as a captain if they knew he was an omega after all and that he would get distracted by an alpha. Suo had assured him repeatedly that nothing would happen. "Our friends would never doubt you, Haruka. I could shout that you're my boyfriend and they would still admire you the same."
Four months of relationship. Four months learning to be loved. Four months feeling that, for the first time, he belonged to someone.
And now that someone had left without an explanation. Without a goodbye. Without reaffirming the mark.
The time to reaffirm the bond was at its limit.
Sakura knew it because his body reminded him every second. The burning in his neck had gone from a mild annoyance to a constant fire, as if someone were burning his skin from the inside. The marks of Suo's teeth which until a few days ago were visible, two small red half-moons at the junction of his neck were beginning to fade. In a few days, they would disappear completely.
And with them, the temporary bond would break.
Sakura had read about that once, by chance, at a time when he never imagined it would happen to him. The incomplete bond. When the alpha marks the omega during their heat but doesn't reaffirm the bite a month later, the bond dissolves. It's not just physical. It hurts. Hurts as if your own body is rejecting something it craves with every cell.
His omega was in crisis. Sakura felt it in the chills that ran down his back despite the fever. In the tremors that shook his hands when he tried to get up from the futon. In the way his bergamot and lily scent had turned sour, dull, saturated with a sadness he couldn't hide.
He's rejecting me. The thought was a lash. He won't come to complete the bond. He doesn't care enough.
And the worst of it was that, if Suo returned now, if he appeared at his apartment door with that teasing smile and those eyes that looked at him as if he were special, Sakura would forgive him. He knew it. He hated it. But he knew it.
He would forgive the absence. Forgive the silence. Forgive him for breaking his heart without saying a word. Because he loved Suo. Yes, he had accepted it recently, in the privacy of his own mind, in the moments alone where he allowed himself to be weak. He loved Hayato. Loved his burgundy hair, his tassel earrings, his eyepatch, his voice when it turned soft without that teasing tone he used with others. He loved the way Suo invaded his personal space and touched him with a delicacy that made him feel like a real omega: cute, unique, precious, valuable, loved, protected.
But Suo wasn't there to hear him.
He had never been more alone than now, lying on his futon, with the mark fading and his heart shattered.
꒰ 𖹭 ꒱
Sakura didn't remember leaving the door unlocked.
Maybe he did it on purpose. Maybe, in some corner of his feverish mind, a part of him was still hoping. Hoping that Suo would appear. Hoping he would walk in without knocking, as he used to, with that teasing smile and that look that made him feel as if he were special.
When he heard the footsteps, when he felt someone cross the threshold of his apartment, his heart skipped a beat.
Sakura sat up on the futon with an effort that made him see stars. The fever blurred his vision, the burning in his neck was a living flame, but he didn't care. His hand instinctively went to his shoulder, pressing the mark that burned under his fingers, and his lips let out a name before his brain could process what he was doing.
"Hayato?"
His voice came out hoarse, broken, full of a hope so fragile it hurt just to hear it. His mismatched eyes searched the dimness for the familiar figure. The burgundy hair. The tassel earrings. The eyepatch. The teasing smile he hated so much and loved so much.
But it wasn't Hayato.
It was Nirei, Kiryu, and Tsugeura. Three silhouettes silhouetted against the open door, with expressions ranging from horror to concern. And Sakura, Sakura stayed there, sitting on his futon, with his hand on his neck and hope dying in his eyes.
His hand fell. Slow. Heavy. As if holding the weight of all the pain he had been containing.
"Oh," he murmured, and it was all he could say.
In the movement, his neck was exposed. The mark he had been hiding for weeks the two red half-moons of Suo's teeth, still visible but beginning to fade was displayed shamelessly under the dim light of the apartment.
The silence was deafening.
Sakura saw Nirei's eyes widen like saucers. Saw Tsugeura bring a hand to his mouth. Saw Kiryu, the most serene of them all, clench his jaw with a tension that betrayed his concern.
Humiliation was a bucket of ice water, but Sakura was too tired to feel shame. He just let his shoulders drop, abandoned the upright posture he had held for so long, and allowed himself for the first time in weeks to be weak.
His hand returned to the mark. Not to hide it. To feel it. To cling to what little remained of Hayato.
"I thought..." his voice broke. "I thought it was him."
No one said anything. Kiryu was the first to move. He put a hand on Tsugeura's shoulder and another on Nirei's, and guided them outside with a silent gesture. Leave him. Not now.
The door closed. Footsteps in the hallway. And then, only Nirei, sitting on the edge of the futon with a tenderness Sakura didn't deserve.
"You're an idiot," Nirei said, and his voice was already tense, tears about to overflow. "An idiot, Sakura-san. Why didn't you tell us anything?"
Sakura didn't respond. He couldn't. His throat was too tight, his chest too full of things he had been holding in for weeks. The pain he had ignored. The unanswered calls. The fake address. The beating of Nirei. The absence of a goodbye.
But when Nirei hugged him, Sakura wanted to pull away. Wanted to growl, regain his composure, remind himself that he was the captain, that captains don't cry, that captains don't break down. His hands trembled against Nirei's back, and for a moment it seemed he would push him away, escape from that vulnerability that terrified him more than any fight.
"I'm not going to cry," he murmured, and his voice was already breaking. "I'm not going to... I'm not going to..."
But the doubts in his heart trampled his throat before he could contain them. They rose like an overflowing river, breaking all the dams he had built for weeks. And then the words began to come out, clumsy, disordered, desperate.
"Nirei... you knew him. You knew him and you knew me. You were with us all the time. You saw him. How he looked at me. How he talked to me. How... how he was when the three of us were together."
He looked up. His mismatched eyes were reddened, but they hadn't yet shed a single tear. He clung to that restraint, refusing to sink completely.
"Tell me he loved me," he pleaded, and his voice was so fragile that Nirei felt something inside him break. "Tell me he didn't lie to me. Tell me that everything he said... about me being the cutest boy in Makochi, about me not being a mistake, about wanting to be by my side... tell me it was true. Please, Nirei. Tell me he really loved me."
"Sakura-san..."
"Tell me he's coming back," he continued, and now his hands gripped Nirei's arms with a force that hurt. "Tell me he's coming back before... before the bond breaks. Because it's breaking, Nirei. I feel it. Every day it hurts more and it's fading and I don't want it to disappear. I don't want it to disappear because if it disappears, it means it was all a lie, doesn't it? That he never really loved me."
His voice broke on the last word, but the tears still didn't fall. He refused. He clung to that refusal as if it were the only thing left of his pride, his identity, everything he had built after years of feeling insufficient.
"Tell me he loves me," he whispered, and it was no longer a request, it was a plea. "Even if it's a lie. Even if it's not true. Tell me, Nirei. I need to hear it. I need to believe that someone... that someone can truly love me."
Nirei clenched his teeth. He felt his own eyes burn, his own throat close up. He didn't know if what Sakura asked him was true or not. He didn't know if Suo had loved Sakura the way Sakura needed. He didn't know if Suo would return.
But he looked at his best friend that black and white haired boy who had arrived at Furin with his fist raised and his heart closed, and who little by little, hit by hit, smile by smile, had learned to open up and he knew what he had to do.
"Yes," Nirei said, and his voice was firm, though inside he was crumbling. "He loved you, Sakura-san. He loves you. Everything he said was true. It wasn't a lie. It can't be a lie because I saw it. I saw him look at you as if you were the sun. I saw him fall silent when you smiled because he didn't want to ruin the moment. I saw him..."
He swallowed.
"I saw him love you. And he's coming back. He has to come back. Because he can't be so foolish as to let you go forever."
Sakura's tears fell then. Not one or two. It was a torrent, a puzzle finally collapsing after weeks of holding the pieces together with bloody fingers.
"Are you sure?" he asked between sobs, clinging to Nirei as if he were his only anchor. "Are you sure he's coming back? That he didn't lie to me? That... that I wasn't just a game to him?"
"I'm sure," Nirei lied. And Sakura believed him. Because he needed to believe it. Because if he didn't believe that, he had nothing left.
Sakura cried then as he hadn't cried in years. With his face buried in Nirei's shoulder, with his hands clutching his shirt, with his whole body shaken by sobs that seemed to come from deep in his bones. It wasn't pretty. It was ugly and messy and painful. But healing.
"Why didn't he answer my calls?" he asked between hiccups. "I called so many times. So many. Why didn't he say goodbye? If he had already decided to leave, if he had it all planned out, why didn't he tell me? Why did he leave me like this, without an explanation, without anything?"
Nirei didn't answer. He couldn't. Because he didn't know the answers.
"I want him to come," Sakura said, and his voice was a broken thread. "I want him to come here. To look me in the eyes. To explain why he did all this. I want him to tell me why he lied to me. Why he hit you, Nirei. Why he left without saying goodbye to me."
He brought his hand to his chest, right where the pain was most intense.
"It hurts here, Nirei. It hurts more than the mark that won't stop burning. I want him to come and make it stop. I want him to complete the bond. I want him to keep his promise. I want..."
His voice faded. The tears kept falling.
"I want him to truly love me," he finally said. "Because I... I love him. And I hate loving him. I hate that it hurts so much and that I still can't stop hoping he'll come back."
Sakura fell silent then. Not because he had finished crying, but because he had no more words left. Only Nirei's embrace. Only the echo of his own unanswered questions. Only the burning on his shoulder and the certainty that, despite everything, he was still waiting.
Hours later, when Sakura had finally fallen asleep exhausted, emptied, with his brow relaxed and the traces of tears still fresh on his cheeks Nirei was still awake.
He sat on the floor, his back against the wall, his phone in his hand, his gaze lost on the dull mark peeking out on his friend's neck. The skin around it was reddened, irritated. The two half-moons of Suo's teeth were visible, but barely. They were fading, turning gray, like a memory that would be erased with the passage of days.
It's breaking, Nirei thought. The bond is breaking, and Suo-san isn't here to stop it.
Anger rose in his chest, hot and bitter. He opened the chat with Suo, that chat that had been inactive for weeks, with the last message being a "Good night, Nirei-kun" from him that he now knew was a goodbye, and he began to type.
His fingers trembled. Not from cold. From fury.
"You're a huge idiot, Suo-san. Sakura-san didn't deserve for you to be an idiot."
He sent the message. A gray check mark. Unread.
Nirei frowned. He waited a minute. Two. Five. Nothing. The message remained unopened.
Biting his lip, he added another:
"Sakura-san cried because of you and he's sick, Suo-san. You should carry that weight if you don't come back."
Sent. Gray check mark. Unread.
Nirei sighed, defeated. He was about to put his phone away when, suddenly, the screen changed.
Read.
Both messages were marked as seen at the same time.
Nirei went still. He had read them. Suo had read his messages. But only after he mentioned Sakura. Only after he said his name. Only after he knew that Sakura had cried, that he was sick.
"Fool," Nirei murmured, and his voice trembled. "You were waiting. Waiting for me to talk about him."
Kiryu, who was reclining against the opposite wall, opened one eye. Kiryu and Tsugeura had refused to leave, clearly having heard everything Sakura's walls were old and thin. Nirei let them join even if they couldn't do anything at that moment.
"What's wrong?" Kiryu asked quietly, so as not to wake Sakura.
Nirei held up the phone with trembling hands. Kiryu slowly sat up, read the screen, and his expression hardened.
"Read the messages," Kiryu said, and it wasn't a question.
"Only when I said Sakura's name," Nirei replied, and his voice was contained poison. "Not before. He was there, Kiryu. He ignored all my messages this month. He was waiting. He wanted to know about him. But he didn't have the courage to answer until he knew Sakura was hurting."
Kiryu clenched his jaw. He said nothing. He didn't need to.
Nirei looked at the phone again. The messages were read, but there was no response. Only the void. Only the silence.
And then, it happened.
Three dots. The "typing..." dots.
Nirei held his breath. He gripped the phone so hard his knuckles turned white. The dots blinked for a few seconds and then disappeared.
A minute passed. Nothing.
"He's not typing anymore," Kiryu whispered.
Nirei nodded. Disappointment was a punch to the stomach. Of course. Of course. Suo-san wasn't going to answer. Why would he?
But then the message arrived.
A single message. Brief. Direct. Painfully simple.
"I'm sorry, Nirei-kun. Can you take care of Haruka, please?"
Nirei stared at the screen. Haruka. Suo used his first name. Not "Sakura-kun." Haruka. Like in the intimacy of their relationship, when no one else was watching. When it was just the two of them.
"I saw it," Kiryu said, reading over his shoulder. "He used his name."
"I know," Nirei replied, and his voice was a thread.
The phone trembled again. This time, it wasn't a message. It was an incoming call.
From Suo.
Nirei looked at it as if the phone were a snake ready to bite. His fingers hesitated over the screen. He didn't want to answer. He didn't want to hear his voice. He didn't want to give him the satisfaction of knowing that Sakura was broken and that he, Nirei, was still there, cleaning up the pieces Suo had shattered.
But he also wanted to shout at him. Wanted to ask him why. Wanted to demand he come back. Wanted to hurt him with words, since he couldn't reach him with his fists.
Finally, he rejected the call.
"I'm not ready to talk to him," he said, and it was the truth. "And Sakura-san doesn't need me to bring him his words. He needs him to come."
Kiryu nodded.
Nirei wrote a final message. His fingers moved fast, furious, but also sad.
"We will. But right now, we just want to hit you."
Sent.
Read.
And then, silence.
Suo didn't answer. He probably wouldn't. Nirei put away his phone and let himself fall against the wall, with his eyes closed and his chest tight.
Nirei sat on the floor, his back against the wall and his knees pressed to his chest. The phone rested beside him, the screen off, but the messages were still burning in his memory. "I'm sorry, Nirei-kun. Can you take care of Haruka, please?"
Haruka.
Suo had used his name. Not "Sakura-kun." Haruka. Like in intimacy. Like when they were alone. As if, despite everything, despite the distance and the lies and the silence, Suo still felt he had the right to call him that.
Kiryu was leaning against the wall next to him now, arms crossed and eyes half-closed. He wasn't sleeping, nor was he pretending to again. He was just observing, as always, with that calm that was sometimes unsettling. Tsugeura snored softly in a corner, oblivious to the tension floating in the air.
"Nirei-kun," Kiryu said quietly, so quietly it was barely a whisper. "You think Suo-chan loves him. Don't you?"
Nirei looked up. His eyes were reddened, tired, but there was something in them that wasn't just sadness. It was conviction.
"Yes," he replied without hesitation. "I do."
Kiryu tilted his head, as if expecting an explanation. And Nirei gave him one, because he needed to say it out loud, because he needed to order his own thoughts.
"I always thought it was one-sided," he began, and his voice was a thread in the dimness. "At first, I mean. I saw Suo-san looking at Sakura-san longer than was normal. That gaze... I don't know how to explain it. It wasn't just curiosity. It was as if Sakura-san were the only one in the room. And when Sakura-san did something hit someone, blush, say something kind without realizing it Suo-san smiled. But it wasn't a mocking smile. It was a tender smile. As if seeing Sakura-san made him feel good."
Nirei paused, swallowing.
"I thought it was just Suo-san's thing. That Sakura-san didn't understand those feelings yet. Because Sakura-san... well, you know how he is. He came to Furin not knowing what it was like to have friends. Not knowing what it was like for someone to care about him. Every gesture of affection was a new world for him. And Suo-san was... Suo-san was very intense. Too intense, sometimes. But I thought Sakura-san didn't realize it. That he just accepted Suo-san's closeness because he didn't know it meant something more."
His voice broke slightly.
"But now I see that it was mutual. That Sakura-san felt something too. And I feel... I don't know. Stupid. Blind. I should have realized they were dating. I should have seen the signs. The glances they exchanged. The way Sakura-san blushed when Suo-san said something. The way Suo-san looked for any excuse to touch him, to be near him."
Nirei lowered his head.
"Sakura-san trusted him. Told us everything. His past, his mother, his father, the guilt he carries. And Suo-san got angry for him, Kiryu. Got angry for him. That can't be faked. That's not a lie. And now Sakura-san is like this, sad, because the bond is breaking and he thinks that maybe he was never enough. That maybe Suo-san never truly loved him."
"But you don't believe that," Kiryu said. It wasn't a question.
"No," Nirei replied, looking up. "I don't."
Kiryu nodded slowly. He was silent for a moment, looking at Sakura sleeping, and then spoke.
"I didn't realize either," he admitted, and his voice had a tone Nirei didn't recognize in him. Softer. Almost regretful. "I saw Suo-chan teasing Sakura-chan more than anyone else. Seeking his attention. Provoking him. And I thought it was just that: a joke. His way of having fun. Suo-chan has always been hard to read. He says things that seem true, then laughs and says it's a joke. You never know if he's serious."
"But we all knew that Sakura-chan was new to all of this. New to friendship. New to trust. New to feelings. I didn't think Suo-chan could get into his heart so easily. I thought Sakura-chan would put up more resistance. That he wouldn't let anyone get that close."
Kiryu sat up slightly, resting the back of his head against the wall.
"But maybe I was the one who didn't see it. Maybe Sakura-chan fell first."
Nirei blinked.
"What do you mean?"
Kiryu looked at him. In the dimness, his eyes shone with a clarity that hurt.
"Sakura-chan always showed interest in Suo-chan. From the beginning. He denied it, of course. He blushed, got angry, said Suo-chan was annoying. But he sought him out. He stayed quiet when Suo-chan spoke. He looked at him when he wasn't looking. I remember one time, on the rooftop, we were all there and Suo-chan said something, I don't remember wha and Sakura-chan just looked at him. With wide eyes. As if he wanted to capture that moment in his memory. And when Suo-chan turned his head and caught him, Sakura-chan turned red as a tomato and looked away."
Nirei let out a weak, almost painful laugh.
"Yes. I saw that too."
"That's not the reaction of someone who doesn't care," Kiryu continued. "That's the reaction of someone who's starting to feel something and doesn't know how to handle it. Sakura-chan let Suo-chan get close. Not only did he let him. He wanted it. Even if he didn't know what to call what he felt. Even if he denied over and over that he cared."
Kiryu shrugged.
"Maybe Suo-chan was the one who confessed first. Maybe Suo-chan made the first move. But I think Sakura-chan was already in love long before Suo-chan said anything. He just didn't know it. Or didn't want to know."
Nirei fell silent, digesting those words. It made sense. It all made sense now. Sakura's furtive glances. The way his voice changed when he talked about Suo—a little softer, a little more insecure. The way he looked for Suo with his eyes as soon as he entered a room.
"He loved him too," Nirei murmured, more to himself than to Kiryu. "From before. And we saw nothing."
"It wasn't our fault," Kiryu said, and although his words were kind, his tone was firm. "They decided to hide it. For whatever reasons."
Nirei nodded. He looked at Sakura sleeping, with his black and white hair spread over the pillow, with the dull mark on his neck. He thought of all the times he had seen Suo and Sakura together and hadn't understood what was right in front of his eyes.
Suo-san watching him. Sakura-san blushing. Both of them creating a world of two within everyone else's world.
"I love them both," Nirei said quietly. "That's why it hurts so much. Because I know Suo-san loves him. And I know Sakura-san loves him. And yet, they're like this. Apart. With a bond fading away."
Kiryu decided to add nothing. He just closed his eyes and let the silence speak for him.