In the sombre stillness of the hospital room, a haunting reality unfolds, where the echoes of a war-torn past collide with the fragile hope of a future. Katsuki, a mere teenager, is yet burdened with the scars of battle too heavy for one so young. His body, a tapestry of bandages, tells a grand story of a fight well worth fighting for.

His parents stand vigil at his bedside. The echoing sound of machines bounce off the shallow walls. Mitsuki leans forward in her chair, eyes heavy from all the tears she's cried. However, they well up once more.

Katsuki lays still. Chest rising and falling unevenly, yet he's breathing nonetheless.

“Have I failed you?” Mitsuki breathes, stifling a sob, her tears kept at bay by sheer will.

'No, you haven't.' Katsuki wants to say, but he can't voice it.

Masaru was in the same boat. A father, unable to do anything, but watch his son fight for his life.

“Where has the time gone?” He murmurs, voice thick with nostalgia as memories flood his mind—the warmth of cradling his baby boy, the gurgling laughter echoing through their home, now replaced by the haunting stillness of this hospital room.

It was an unwelcoming feeling.

The contrast is stark and heartbreaking; once he caressed Katsuki with tender fingers to help him sleep. Now, he leans over the bed, fingers shakily caressing his cheek, unknowing if this would be the last time he'd feel his son's warmth.

A testament of two parents unwilling to let go.