It was all his fault.

He could’ve come up with something, with a plan, he shouldn’t’ve won the game, He should’ve died, just like Karube and Chota. They didn’t deserve it.

He was stupid. He was selfish to hide as the wolf, he was selfish to not look for them earlier. He could’ve saved them, but he stayed there, just crying and weeping like the coward he is.

Karube isn’t there to pat his back and tell him it’ll be okay. Chota isn’t there to say some weird-assed joke and make him giggle in-between sobs. They’re gone now, and he was alone.

The drops of rain cleaned the blood off his face and clothes, and mixed with the tears that silently rolled through his cheeks.

He laid on the middle of the street, cold and sore. Nobody would run him over anyway, the city was mostly empty and the cars didn’t work.

And even with the footsteps of a person he’d met in a few games earlier, he didn’t look up. He didn’t even bother to respond to their questions.