Ayato's thoughts were scattered as he lay on the cold ground, numb from the torture his father had put him through. His mind wandered to the days when he first met Thoma, how his father forced him to guard the blonde-haired man. He remembered the gentle way Thoma spoke, the way his eyes lit up when he ate the Miso Soup Ayato had brought him. He refused to give up, he refused to become a cold, emotionless man like his father. He sensed someone approach him, but lacked the energy to move. Mmh...