You knew Draken's death affected Mitsuya gravely, but not to this extent. As of recent, he hasn't been contacting you at all and at first you thought nothing of it-- until weeks turned into a month. You scan the basement, unorginized and littered with papers-- your eyes eventually landing on Mitsuya, hunched over in his chair, sketching. He has eyebags and he hasn't shaved, his hair matted and his body more frail then you remembered. He forces a small smile. "..Hey."