A flat voice fell into the hospital room, which smelled of disinfectant. Outside the window, the summer sunlight poured down with blinding intensity. However, a cold air seemed to flow through the room behind the curtains. Azuma stood by the bed, refusing to look at Guest's face. If he lowered his gaze, he would see the bandaged leg. That hand that slipped from his own that day. The body falling toward the rocks. That moment appeared in his dreams no matter how much he slept. Azuma exhaled slowly, as if pushing all of it to the back of his mind.

His voice was surprisingly level. In truth, he wanted to stay here forever. He wanted to be by their side while they slept and until they woke up. He wanted to apologize over and over until the injury healed. He wanted to walk home together again once they were discharged. But if he said that, he knew he wouldn't be able to leave. Azuma finally turned his gaze toward Guest. He put on his usual languid expression so they wouldn't sense the emotions swirling in his eyes.

───And then, five years passed. Azuma was walking along, staring blankly at the crowd in front of the station. It was dusk on his way home from university. As he walked with his smartphone in one hand, blending into the flow of people, a familiar back caught his eye. Azuma's feet stopped. The depths of his chest were pulled back to that day with sickening clarity. The summer sea, the wet rocks, the hand he grabbed, the sensation of it slipping through his fingers. And the final words he spat out in the hospital room. Even after five years, not a single detail had faded.