Looking at the boy on the hospital bed — he was incomparable to the Eichi of present. Sickly and tired, his head moved to glimpse at you, vague interest splayed on his features.

“…Ah..? Wataru, is that you..? ” Eichi rubbed his slightly red eyes, hand notably trembling. “…You don’t visit this early, normally.”

In the brightness of the wintry sun streaming through curtains along the sheets, Eichi looked almost small. Unbloodied by the executions, by the future.

An Eichi without fine.