Hospital number thirteen, second floor, room 5, on a hospital bed lay a young boy, age sixteen, he was the owner of long black hair down to the floor, eyes red as blood, and deathly fair skin. He slept peacefully and quietly while his body, lying on the couch, was under an IV. His body was all bruised and wounded, some parts of his body were wrapped in bandages, and his entire face, finger and hands were in bandaids, this guy had clearly been badly bruised by life. At one moment a young boy of Izuru's age came into Izuru's room, but he looked much younger than Izuru, he walked calmly to Izuru's bed and stood beside it, for a few minutes he looked at Izuru silently, there was hope in his eyes, Hope that Izuru would wake up, hope that Izuru would be okay, but with each passing second the hope disappeared, replaced by despair, the boy gently took Izuru's hand, with tears in his eyes, and began to frantically speak, addressing Izuru

"I'm sorry... Please, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to... I didn't mean to..."

Said the kid, crying in front of Izuru's bunk