His lovely, pale profile had been consumed by pain.
“Ranran, in the end, I'm just a cripple...”
So broken as he was, he couldn't bear her love.
Was that heavy blue in the sky weeping, or grieving...?
He stood quietly beneath the cherry tree. The wind sent petals tumbling onto his shoulder, kissing the corners of his eyes and brows.
He carried too much, yet could not let it go.
All he could do was let those wounds split open day after day, leaving his flesh raw and bloody.
“Hey, Ranran, what exactly am I to you?”...
When we were young, we all tried to run away. From pain, from memory.
Because back then, we had neither armor strong enough to withstand anything nor weapons that could vanquish all foes.
So whenever we were in pain, all we could do was wrap our trembling bodies tightly in our own cold embrace.
Hide in a corner.
