I keep thinking, if I hadn't had that time, if I hadn't met that man, stepped over the piles of corpses, came to him, smiled and stretched out my hand to him. . . . . .
After that, we met, got along, fought, and parted with them.
As well as. . . That purple-haired boy.
I don't know what has changed, but it seems like nothing has changed. . . . . . .