Mahitaro had spent so many loops stumbling blind, lost in despair, forced into an endless cycle where the only constants were death and grief. His brother's suicide. The bloodied pencil stabbed into the teacher's arm. The slamming of doors. The noose swinging in the dark. And always, always, Gekidō's face lingering in the margins, red hair like fire against the gray monotony of despair.
But this time... this time felt different.
For the first time, he didn't wake up drowning in fear. He woke with a steady breath, his hands clenching into fists as if something deep inside had finally crystallized. The loops had battered him, broken him, stripped him raw. But in that wreckage, a seed had formed—resolve. His own. Not borrowed from Gekidō's suffering, not forced into him by fate, but grown from his own rage, his own grief, his own desperate refusal to let it all end in despair.
He whispered it into the silence of his room:
"This time... I will save him. No matter what it takes."
For the first time, Gekidō stood across from him not as a fellow sufferer, not as the kid who once dragged him down into despair, but as something else entirely: a watcher. A shadow. A silent overseer.
"You want me to help, don't you?" Gekidō asked softly, his red hair veiling his eyes. "You want me to guide you through the plan. To tell you where to go, what to change, which thread to cut."
Mahitaro's eyes burned with fire. "Yes. If you know so much, then help me. Help me save Yasuke. Help me stop this curse."
But Gekidō only shook his head. Slowly. Almost mournfully.
"No. Not this time. This is yours, Mahitaro. Your loops. Your choices. Your resolve. I've already given you everything—the power, the burden, the curse. I'll be watching, but I won't interfere. If you succeed, it will be because you earned it. If you fail... it will be because you weren't strong enough."
Mahitaro's fists trembled. His heart screamed to curse him, to spit hatred into his face. And yet... somewhere deep down, buried under layers of pain, he felt something strange. A pulse of gratitude. Not because he forgave Gekidō. Not because he wanted to. But because, in some twisted way, he could see the truth behind the cruelty: that all of this, every agonizing loop, was meant for him.
"I'll never forgive you," Mahitaro said, voice shaking. "But I'll thank you. Not because you saved me. Not because you helped me, but because you believed in me—so much that you were willing to suffer in your own unique way. I don't know your past, yet somehow, when I look into your eyes, I can sense it. I can tell what you're thinking, and let's just call it intuition. Even if everything you did was cruel, even if you destroyed me a hundred times over, I know why. You wanted me to stand here now. And I will. I'll use this curse you gave me. I'll end this, not for you, but for Yasuke. For my family. For myself."
For the first time, Gekidō smiled—a tired, broken smile.
"Good. That's what I wanted to hear." His voice lowered, almost a whisper. "There will come a moment, Mahitaro. A moment when you are pushed to the edge of everything you are. The loop itself will sense it—the greatest despair, the greatest frustration you'll ever feel. When that happens, it will awaken the memories I've hidden. You'll remember me. All of me. The suffering. The despair. The reasons I did what I did. It's meant to give you strength. To sharpen your resolve beyond what you think possible. But..."
He hesitated. His eyes grew dim.
"...if your hatred is stronger than your resolve, then even that may not be enough. Let's just hope what you have inside you already is enough to break the curse."
Mahitaro looked away, his jaw clenched.
"I don't want to wait for that moment. I don't want to rely on memories of you to push me forward. My resolve is enough. My hatred is enough. I've already decided. This is my plan, my path. And I don't need you to walk it."
Gekidō nodded once. "Then walk it. I'll watch. And pray that you're right."
And so, Mahitaro began.
He took out paper. Began to write. His hands shook as he scribbled every detail he remembered from the loops—the time of Yasuke's last words, the teacher's exact words before the pencils strike, the places his parents argued, the days when the house felt heaviest with despair. He mapped it out like a battlefield, every move a calculation, every possibility a thread of fate.
His heart bled as he wrote, because each note was a memory of failure. But he did not stop. He couldn't. He knew the incident would come again on February 22, 2007. The day burned into his soul. And this time, he would not face it blindly. He would have a plan.
For the first time in countless loops, hope flickered like a fragile candle flame in his heart.
Gekidō stood in the shadows, silent, unseen. His eyes followed every stroke of Mahitaro's pen, every determined clench of his jaw. And in his heart, though he would never say it aloud, he whispered to himself:
"Thank you, Mahitaro. Even if you hate me forever. Thank you."
Scene 2: The Plan Arc – Part II: The Weight of the First Attempt
The night before the day came, Mahitaro couldn't sleep. His notebook was spread open on the desk, scrawled with arrows, circles, underlined warnings, and desperate reminders in red ink:
"Stop Yasuke at the stairwell."
"Don't let him near the roof."
"Distract the teacher before the pencil breaks."
"Find the moment to change the fight at home."
Every word bled like a wound.
He sat at the desk, the dim light of the lamp flickering. His hands trembled as he pressed them together, whispering to himself again and again:
"This time. This time I won't lose him."
When dawn came, he felt as if his body had been hollowed out, running on resolve alone.
The school day began normally — too normally. Laughter in the halls. The sound of sneakers squeaking against polished floors. Friends greeting each other with energy Mahitaro no longer recognized. For him, everything was heavy, suffocating, ticking like a countdown clock. He knew where the fractures would appear. He knew where despair was waiting.
First test: the classroom.
The teacher had been going on about careers, about the future. He knew Yasuke would snap — he'd seen it again and again, the eruption of bottled frustration that ended with the pencil stabbing, the shocked gasps, the chain reaction of chaos that spiraled from it.
This time, Mahitaro raised his hand before Yasuke's anger could boil over.
"Sensei," he said, his voice firm despite the shaking inside. "Maybe... it's not fair to keep pressing him like that. Maybe his future isn't something you can decide."
The room went still. The teacher frowned. Yasuke blinked in shock, his fist loosening around the pencil. For the first time, Mahitaro felt hope stir in his heart — maybe, just maybe, he had diverted it.
But fate was cruel. The teacher's sigh came sharp, dismissive. "Mahitaro, this isn't about you. Don't interrupt. Yasuke, stop wasting everyone's time. And his parents please listen to what I have to say about your sons future because his grades have been awful lately..."
And the sound came anyway.
The pencil snapped. The strike lashed out, not into the teacher's arm this time — but into the desk, splintering wood, startling gasps from the class. Yasuke's eyes burned with the same rage, the same helplessness. Mahitaro's breath froze. He had shifted it, yes, but the explosion still came. Different shape. Same wound.
He clenched his fists under the desk. I'll try again. I'll try again.
Second test: the stairwell.
Mahitaro lingered by the door, waiting for Yasuke's footsteps. He knew his brother would try to slip away, as he always did, carrying his despair like an invisible chain up toward the roof.
When he appeared, Mahitaro grabbed him by the wrist.
"Yasuke! Wait."
His brother's eyes widened — confusion, then annoyance. "What are you doing? I need to get past little brother."
"I just... I just wanted to say," Mahitaro stammered, his throat tightening, "whatever happens... you don't have to do this alone. You're not a failure. You're not—" His voice hoarse. "You're my brother. Please. Stay with me."
For a moment, Yasuke froze. His body trembled. The rooftop door hovered just behind him like a shadow. And then, slowly, he lowered his head.
"...You're weird today," Yasuke muttered. His voice was softer than usual, uncertain. He pulled his wrist free, but he didn't climb the stairs. He walked the other way.
Mahitaro's knees buckled. Tears blurred his vision. It worked. It worked. At least this time—
But when evening came, when the shouting began again, the pattern returned. But this time later in the evening and still at school none the less...
His father's voice thundered about responsibility. His mother's shrill tone pierced about wasted potential. And Yasuke, sitting at the table, his hands trembling against his knees, finally snapped.
"I SAID IT'S MY LIFE! STOP DECIDING FOR ME!"
The fight spiraled. The storm raged. Mahitaro tried, desperately, to speak, to stand between them, but the words tangled in his throat. His body froze as his brother shoved past him, storming into the rooftops light.
Mahitaro chased him. His lungs burned, his legs screamed, but by the time he reached the rooftop, Yasuke was already climbing. Already stepping toward the contraption he had just finished setting up by the time he got there. Already fading.
Mahitaro screamed his name — over and over, his voice breaking, raw, clawing at the fading horziens of the sun. But his brother didn't turn. He comitted sucide again...
The sound hit like the shattering of the world.
Mahitaro fell to his knees, his heart hollow, his soul burning. The plan, the hope, the fragile belief — it all collapsed into ash.
He cradled his head in his hands, sobbing, whispering the same words again and again:
"I tried. I tried. I tried—"
From the shadows, Gekidō's voice drifted, low and mercilessly calm.
"That was only the first attempt. Did you think fate would let you win so easily?"
Mahitaro lifted his tear-streaked face, eyes blazing with grief and fury. "Shut up! Don't you dare mock me!"
"I'm not mocking you," Gekidō replied softly. "I'm reminding you. This isn't about one step, one plan, one try. This is about resolve that doesn't break even when the world crushes you again and again. Can you keep going, Mahitaro? Or will you drown, like I did?"
Mahitaro's body shook. His heart screamed to collapse, to let despair swallow him whole. But he forced himself up, fists clenched so tight his nails drew blood.
"I will try again," he whispered, voice trembling with grief and defiance. "I'll try again until I win."
And as the loop pulled him under once more, the world dissolving around his tears, he felt the fire of his resolve flare brighter than ever.
Scene 3: The Plan Arc – Part III: The Rooftop Fight of Resolve
The sky was dark.
The clouds churned like a beast's stomach, thick and heavy with the weight of rain yet to fall. Thunder rolled in the distance, each strike echoing through the hallways of the school like the beating of war drums.
Mahitaro had chased Yasuke again, this time not with soft words or careful hands, but with fists clenched and fire in his heart. The plan — every notebook scribble, every desperate attempt — was gone. This wasn't about strategy anymore. This was about stopping Yasuke, no matter what it cost.
When the door to the rooftop slammed open, the entire school seemed to feel it. Students gathered in the hallways, whispers spreading like wildfire. The brothers had locked themselves inside. Teachers rushed up, banging on the steel frame, their voices muffled by the howling storm.
And there, under the trembling gray sky, Yasuke stood beside the crude contraption he had prepared for himself — ropes tied to the railings, a chair waiting to be kicked. His eyes were wild, his breath ragged.
"Yasuke..." Mahitaro's voice was hoarse. "I'm not letting you do it."
His brother laughed bitterly, the sound raw and broken. "You think you can stop me? You've been trying and failing over and over today. Why won't you just give up?!"
"Because you're my brother!" Mahitaro screamed, tears already streaking down his cheeks. "And I'll break myself apart before I let you break!"
Yasuke's fists trembled. His eyes shone with a pain too deep to voice. "Then fight me. If you really want to stop me... then fight me!"
And so they did.
The first punch came from Mahitaro, slamming against his brother's jaw with a force he didn't know he had. Yasuke staggered, eyes wide — then struck back, knuckles cracking against Mahitaro's nose. Blood sprayed across the rooftop tiles.
Neither held back.
It was messy, brutal, the kind of fight that took away everything but raw emotion. Mahitaro's resolve against Yasuke's despair. Their fists connected again and again, until both their faces were smeared red, until their knuckles split open, until the rooftop floor was dotted with crimson.
Every strike was a word left unsaid.
Every bruise was a memory they could never take back.
The sound of fists colliding echoed with the thunder, like the heavens themselves bore witness.
Down below, students pressed against the windows, their eyes wide, terrified, yet unable to look away. Parents had been called — and when Mahitaro and Yasuke's mother and father finally arrived, they froze in horror.
Their mother's scream tore through the storm.
"Yasuke! Mahitaro! Stop this! You'll kill each other!"
But the brothers didn't stop.
They couldn't.
The rooftop door was locked from the inside. No one could break through in time. And even if they had, neither brother would have listened. This wasn't a fight anyone else could end.
Yasuke's fist cracked against Mahitaro's cheek, sending him stumbling toward the railing. For a breathless second, it seemed he might fall — but Mahitaro steadied himself, then surged forward with a roar, smashing his shoulder into Yasuke's stomach.
They toppled to the ground, rolling across the wet tiles as the air filled with the scent of lightning.
And then Mahitaro saw it — the suicide contraption.
The rope, swaying in the storm winds. The chair, still standing, waiting.
With a scream of fury, he scrambled up and hurled himself at it, breaking the chair into splinters, ripping the rope free with bleeding hands. The fibers burned against his palms, slicing skin, but he didn't care. He tore it apart until nothing was left but fragments scattered in the wind.
Yasuke stared, stomach heaving, blood dripping from his nose. His fists were still clenched, but his body trembled. "Why... why are you doing this, Mahitaro? Why can't you just let me go?"
Mahitaro turned to him, face swollen and red, tears dripping down to mix with blood. His voice broke like thunder.
"Because I'd rather bleed with you than live in a world without you!"
The words broke through. For the first time, Yasuke's fists lowered. His knees buckled, and he fell to the ground, staring at his bloodied hands. His lips trembled as his breath hitched.
"...I didn't mean to hit you like that," he whispered, voice hoarse, broken. His wide eyes looked at Mahitaro's battered face, at the bruises spreading across his skin. "I didn't mean to hurt you. I... I don't even know what I'm doing anymore."
Mahitaro knelt in front of him, grabbing his brother's shoulders with shaking hands. "Then don't. Don't do it, Yasuke. Hurt me all you want, hate me all you want — but don't leave me. I can't survive another loop, another world, where you're gone."
Yasuke's body shook as his sobs broke free, raw and desperate. For the first time, the despair in his eyes cracked open, just enough to let light in.
And from the corner of the rooftop, hidden in the shadows, Gekidō watched. His face was unreadable — but his fists clenched as he whispered under his breath:
"...This is your resolve, Mahitaro. A resolve born not from plans, not from schemes... but from the pure pain of never wanting to let go."
The storm rumbled above. The rain had not yet fallen, but the world held its breath, waiting.
Two brothers, bloodied and broken, faced each other in the storm. The fight was not over. It had only just begun.
Scene 4: The Plan Arc – Part IV: The Last Loop
The rain finally fell.
Heavy, pounding sheets that struck the rooftop like bullets, turning the tiles slick, blurring vision, drowning the rooftop in sound. Lightning cut across the sky, a jagged scar of white. Thunder followed, rolling over the school like the roar of a furious god.
Mahitaro stood trembling, bloodied, his ankle broken and his fists shaking. Yasuke was across from him, his eyes wild — not the eyes of his brother, but of something cornered, feral, drowning in despair. His soaked hair clung to his face, his fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles had split open.
"Why?!" Yasuke screamed, his voice raw, breaking apart against the storm. "Why do you keep getting in my way?! Do you think you can fix me?! Fix my grades, fix my future, fix the mess that I am?!"
"Yasuke—"
"Shut up!" His scream cut like a blade. "You don't understand! You've never understood! I'm nothing — nothing but failure, and no matter what I do, it won't change! So stop acting like I'm worth saving!"
And then he lunged.
Fists crashed against Mahitaro's battered face. A flurry of blows rained down, Yasuke's rage unchecked, driven not just at his brother but at himself, at every chain of expectation that had strangled him for years. He lost control from the torment...
Mahitaro staggered under the assault. His blood mixed with rain, dripping down his chin. Yet he didn't fight back at first. He spoke.
"You're not nothing, Yasuke!" His voice broken, desperate. "You're my brother! You're—!"
Another punch cut his words short, splitting his lip open.
"You're the one person I'd fight every loop for!"
Another punch, another strike, bruises swelling across his jaw, his ribs screaming.
"I don't care if you hate me—if you think I don't understand! Because I don't need to understand everything to know this—"
Mahitaro's fist finally lashed out, slamming into Yasuke's gut. Yasuke doubled over, coughing. Mahitaro's voice tore through the storm, loud enough to shake the heavens.
"I LOVE YOU, YASUKE! And I'll bleed every drop in my body if it means keeping you alive!"
The words halted Yasuke for a moment — but only a moment. His eyes snapped wide, tears mixing with rain, then narrowed with fury. He screamed wordlessly and grabbed a shard of metal from the shattered chair legs. His body trembled as he raised it high, blade trembling in his fist.
"You're the enemy!" Yasuke howled. "You're always the enemy!!"
The shard plunged downward — but before it could strike, another figure moved.
Gekidō.
From the shadows, he lunged, faster than Mahitaro's broken body could react. He threw himself between the brothers, his hand grabbing Yasuke's wrist. The shard still cut deep, slicing across his forehead. Blood poured instantly, soaking into the rain.
"GEKIDŌ!!" Mahitaro's scream was primal, shredded with panic.
The force of the struggle sent Mahitaro flying back, his broken ankle giving way as his body slammed into the rooftop fence. Pain exploded through his body — but he could only watch.
Yasuke froze, the shard still in his hand, his eyes staring at the blood running down Gekidō's face. The sight shook him, rattling him to his core. His grip faltered, the rage collapsing beneath the shock of what he'd done.
The shard clattered to the ground. Yasuke's knees buckled. He fell, sobbing, his body convulsing with the weight of it all. "I... I didn't mean— I... what did I—" His words dissolved into incoherent sobs.
Gekidō swayed, his vision fading, and collapsed.
Mahitaro dragged his broken body across the rooftop, ignoring the fire in his bones, until he reached Gekidō. He pulled him into his arms, rain mixing with blood, tears streaming down his battered face. He clutched his old friend tightly, whispering through sobs.
"Why? Why would you... why would you do this for me?"
Gekidō's lips curled faintly, a smile twisted with blood. His voice was barely a rasp, each word stolen by the storm.
"...Because... I was your friend once... and even if you hate me... I couldn't... watch you lose everything."
"Don't say goodbye," Mahitaro sobbed. "Please, don't—"
But the last flicker of light faded from Gekidō's eyes. His hand fell limp.
"No... no, no, no, NO!!" Mahitaro's scream ripped from his heart like a wounded animal. He pressed his forehead against Gekidō's, tears streaming down, his howl echoing like a wolf crying to a merciless moon.
Something inside him shattered.
He turned to Yasuke, who lay unconscious nearby, broken by the sight, by the guilt. Mahitaro staggered to his brother, and without thought — without reason — his fists began to fall again. And he began kicking his stomach to with the look of a killer...
Punch after punch. Flesh against flesh. His tears mixed with the blood he spilled. "Why?! Why couldn't you just stop?! Why did it have to come to this?!"
He didn't stop until the loop answered.
It wasn't the rooftop he saw anymore. It was memories. Visions crashing into his skull like lightning.
He saw Gekidō dying for him over and over, in loops Mahitaro never remembered. He saw his suffering, his pain — and then, finally, one memory that didn't belong.
A dream.
A sunset.
Three kids sat together—Yasuke beaming with a wide grin as he patted both Mahitaro and Gekidō on the head. Laughter spilled from him, sunlight catching in his hair, warm and golden. Mahitaro still eight with like Gekidō, freer—still a child who believed tomorrow could be better. And Gekidō, who had fought hard and finally won, sat at peace, happy simply to be beside his two friends.
And Gekidō's voice, warm, echoing through the false memory:
"A future... for me, for my best friend, and for my best friend's brother. That's all I wanted."
Mahitaro's fists stopped. He froze, staring down at his brother's unconscious body, his stomach heaving. And then it broke — all of it broke.
His scream tore through the storm, louder than thunder, rawer than pain. He didn't cry as the adult who had endured countless deaths. He cried as the child he had once been, small and helpless, losing everything at once.
"YASUKE!! GEKIDŌ!! DON'T LEAVE ME!!"
The storm swallowed his voice, carrying it out across the city like a requiem.
Yasuke stirred, consciousness clawing back. He rose, unsteady, madness flashing in his eyes. His scream cut through the rain — a sound of pure despair. He reached for a shard, stumbling, broken, but his hand shaking toward it.
Mahitaro saw him, and something inside him finally gave way.
He grabbed another shard, clutching it tight. Blood ran from his palm where it cut. His voice cracked, but his words were steady, a confession he had never spoken before.
"I love you two... from the bottom of my heart. Always."
And with that, he drove the shard into his own heart.
The world blurred. His vision went dark. The storm roared above.
The last thing he heard was the faintest sound — Yasuke screaming his name, and Gekidō's voice, from that dream, echoing one final time:
"...the future we aimed for..."
And then there was nothing.
Black.
Epilogue Scene: Epilogue – The Last Sunset
The rooftop was the same as always — rain dripping from the railings, the school sleeping below, the midnight sky split with thunder. But this time, Mahitaro stood differently. No fists raised. No rage in his stance.
This time, he carried only his truth.
Yasuke and Gekidō stood across from him. Both confused, both confused — but still there. His brother's fists twitched like they wanted something to do. His best friend's eyes narrowed, cautious, as though waiting for some trap of some playful little kids game both of them did actually.
But Mahitaro's voice shattered the silence first.
"I'm done fighting."
They blinked at him. Rain struck his shoulders, rolled down his face, dripping from his jaw. He looked smaller than ever — not an adult, not even the broken survivor of loops and deaths, but a kid who had been taken off every deadly mask of despair.
"I've been through it all. Loops. Deaths. Pain that none of you will ever understand. But tonight—" His voice broke. "Tonight you will listen."
Yasuke opened his mouth, but Mahitaro's roar cut through.
"No! You've never listened! Neither of you! You talk, you scream, you drown in your own anger, and I—" His heart heaved. "I've been choking on mine for years. But tonight I'm done choking. You'll hear me, even if I have to scream it into your thick skulls!"
The words struck Yasuke silent, froze him in place. Gekidō didn't move either as usual.
Mahitaro's voice softened, but his eyes were burning, raw.
"I've died more times than I can count. I've seen both of you break, bleed, suffer, die. Again and again. All because I kept everything inside. Because I was too afraid to tell you the truth." His fists trembled. "Because I thought... maybe if I carried it alone, you wouldn't have to."
And then he broke.
"I can't do it anymore!!" The scream tore from him, shaking his whole body. Tears streamed freely, mixing with rain. "I can't! I can't carry this weight alone, I can't watch you both die again, I can't be the strong one anymore!"
His knees hit the ground. His hands slammed against the soaked tiles, his forehead pressed down, shaking.
He told them everything.
Every loop. Every death. Every desperate plan that failed. Every rooftop soaked in his blood, every scream that had echoed into nothing, every time he tried to save them but only broke more in the process. And how he could never tell them before—Gekidō wouldn't allow it, insisting on keeping certain things private. But now. And earlier, during Gekidō and Mahitaro's conversation, the truth of why he had started the whole loop in the first place had come to light. Gekidō's earlier permission, he was finally allowed to speak. Gekidō had already told Mahitaro that he could actually share the truth about the loop with anyone—but only if it was done in a way the power itself would accept. And now, at last, this way was considered acceptable, because the power had permitted it. he finally could. Of course, Gekidō had already explained parts of it to Yasuke, while Mahitaro already knew the truth—just enough was shared to keep the peace and avoid another fight.
And then, through heaving sobs, he reached the fight — the fight loop that ended with Gekidō's blood and Yasuke's rage. His voice crumbled into pieces as he told it in full.
His voice collapsed.
"All I ever wanted was something worth living for... a home, a timeline where you were all alive, where we could laugh together. A life without the constant fear of a world twisted by this damned, cursed loop ability."
And then, with a broken cry, he reached out, wrapping his arms around Yasuke and Gekidō both.
The three of them clung to each other in the now rain, tears mixing with stormwater, their breaths ragged. Mahitaro sobbed into their shoulders, his body convulsing, emptying years of pain.
For the first time, Yasuke spoke without fear of the future, without putting on an act to hide his worries from his brother. He no longer felt the need to shield him, even though Mahitaro had already been noticing the cracks—thanks, in part, to the loop, since Yasuke hadn't been very good at hiding them anyway thanks to the loop allowing him to move further back in time. but in a whisper.
"...It'll be alright, nii-san."
Gekidō's voice followed, steady but filled with warmth.
"We'll be alright. You don't have to carry it alone anymore."
And Mahitaro sobbed harder. Not as a survivor. Not as a adult who endured death. But as a person who had finally been heard.
The storm broke. Clouds tore apart, and through the gray a rainbow gleamed. The sun dipped low on the horizon, spilling a bruised, bleeding orange across the wet rooftop. The three sat there together, drenched, holding onto each other as if the world would steal them away.
For once, it didn't.
The Future...
Time passed.
The loop ended — for good.
Years later, laughter filled a small household in Tokyo. Mahitaro, no longer a child trapped in endless death, was now 14, sitting at the kitchen table and packing snacks into a bag. Beside him, Gekidō, also 14 and now his adopted brother after being cast out by his own parents—who had rejected him for his devil-red hair and eventually taken things too far—argued with Yasuke over who would get the front seat on their trip.
"Shut up, redhead, I'm older and in my 20's now!" Yasuke barked, though his tone carried no venom hidden by struggled futures anymore.
"And I'm taller!" Gekidō shot back, grinning and lying.
"Both of you are brats," Mahitaro muttered, but the smile on his face betrayed the warmth in his heart.
Their parents called from the living room, waving goodbye as the three headed out together.
The air smelled like summer. The sky was blue, the streets alive. The three brothers — no longer shattered pieces but something whole — walked side by side toward the station, tickets in hand for Tokyo's grand roller coaster park.
Their laughter carried down the street.
THE END?