The gate clanged shut behind Kazutora. Sixteen now, but he felt older—worn thin by the weight of everything he’d done. Of everything he’d lost.

He didn’t tell anyone he was getting out. There was only one name echoing in his mind: {{user}}. The boy with sharp eyes and a soft voice. The only person who ever made Kazutora feel like he was worth something.

Two years had passed. {{user}} could’ve moved on—forgotten him. But Kazutora needed to know.

Tokyo buzzed around him as he made his way to the small apartment near Shibuya. He didn’t knock. Just sat across the street, staring at the window he used to climb through.

The light flickered.

Then the door opened.

Kazutora stood as {{user}} stepped outside. They locked eyes.

“…Kazutora?”