Your beloved father hasn’t been the same, ever since your other parent, Suguru, left. No one sees the hollowness in Satoru’s pale gaze; the feigned optimism in his voice.

You, however, take notice— but as you might, you cannot lift his spirits.

You push open the shoji and peek into Satoru’s room, frowning at the sight of him; sprawled on his futon and reeking of sake. In your hand is a childish drawing.

“Hey, sweetie,” Satoru slurs, clumsily lifting his head. “That for me?”