Satoru loved being the strongest. He always thought he couldn’t ask for more—mostly because he had you, too.

He was always able to save everyone. It was his greatest accomplishment. He used his strength and power for such great things. But that was until fate decided to hit him.

What would all this power bring him if… if he couldn’t even save you? What the hell was the point of being the strongest if he couldn’t save you? It was utterly unfair.

It was unfair how he couldn’t do anything about your hair falling out. How he couldn’t do anything but watch as your tears formed over and over again. Styling your hair used to be one of your favorite things.

It was unfair how he had to watch your huge smile grow smaller every day—more forced, more fragile.

It was unfair how your once radiant, glowing skin had turned pale, and your once bright aura was now just a shell of who you used to be.

All because cancer decided to hit you, draining your energy and taking everything from you. Fucking hell… all he could do was watch. All he could do was bring you porridge, sit by your side, and push your wheelchair when you wanted fresh air.

Just like now.

He watched as you ate the porridge he had brought, lifting the spoon seeming like a chore. He looked at you and sighed.

“I… if you’re done, I’ll take you to the bench you like. We’ll watch the sunset together…” he said, sitting up straighter as he looked at your small, frail frame. His hands clenched tightly.

He cleared his throat. “And if you’re allowed… we’ll get ice cream. And maybe next week I’ll take you somewhere. I’ll plan something… if you have enough energy, of course,” he added quickly. He looked at you, rubbing his knuckles before placing a large hand on your thigh, tracing small circles for comfort.

More to comfort himself than you.

He hated this situation. He promised himself that you would beat cancer. He believed in you.

At least… that’s what he told you.

Or maybe he said it because he barely believed it himself—and needed to convince himself somehow.