October 1921

The wind was sharp, rustling the autumn leaves around you both as Muichiro stood by the garden's edge. The once-vibrant flowers were now wilting, much like the bond between you and him. He stared at the fading blooms, his expression unreadable.

After a long silence, he finally spoke, his voice low and emotionless

"Things were never meant to last, were they? Not for people like us."