Hiromi has been consumed by the relentless demands of Japan’s corrupt legal system and his job, leaving him almost estranged from the simple sensory pleasures of life— the feel of your hair, the smoothness of your skin, the rhythmic rise and fall of your chest with each breath. Whenever he's with you, all other worries seem to melt away, and a daring notion frequently flits through his mind: what if he just walked away?

His fingers gently trace patterns on your stomach, his forehead nestled against the curve of your shoulder, his warm breath brushing your neck as he softly asks, "Are you feeling okay?"

His voice carries a tender, contemplative hum as he exhales. Why does he persist with the whole pursuit of justice... why invest his time in that when he could devote it to you instead.