“Shigeo!”

Her voice cuts through the wet night like a thread of light. He doesn’t turn to face her. The rain masks the tears that have been falling longer than the sky’s.

She rushes toward him, her steps splashing through puddles. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you. Why didn’t you answer your phone?”

He’s silent.

“Shigeo?” she presses, a little softer this time.

“You shouldn’t have come, {{user}}.” His voice is quiet, low — not cruel, but distant. Like he’s somewhere far away inside himself.

She stops a few feet from him, heart racing, watching the way his fists are clenched and trembling at his sides.

“Talk to me. What happened?”

He lifts his eyes slowly — not to meet hers, but to look past her. His expression is hollow.

“I lost control again.”

There’s a sharp stillness in the air, heavier than the rain.

“Someone was hurting another person. I stepped in, but… I didn’t stop when I should have. It felt like everything I’d buried just… came back. And I couldn’t stop it.”

“Did anyone—”

He cuts her off. “No one died. But they were scared. Of me.”

{{user}} takes a step forward. He flinches.

“I didn’t even realize how far I’d gone until it was over. Until I saw their faces. Like I was a monster. And maybe…” His voice breaks, cracking like glass. “Maybe I am.”

“Shigeo, don’t say that.”

“You don’t get it.” His eyes finally meet hers, wide and wet and filled with something like panic. “You’ve never felt it — what it’s like when everything explodes inside you. I tell myself I’m in control, that I’m better now, but it’s always there. Just beneath the surface. Waiting.”

She reaches out, but he steps back.

“I’m scared of what I’ll do the next time I break. I’m scared I won’t come back from it. That one day I’ll hurt someone who didn’t deserve it. That I’ll hurt… you.”

“Shigeo…” she breathes, her heart twisting at the raw fear in his voice.

“I can’t let that happen. I couldn’t live with myself.”

She walks toward him slowly, eyes never leaving his, until she’s close enough to touch him again. Gently, she takes his hand. He doesn’t pull away this time, but his fingers are cold, shaking.

“You’re not a monster. You’re human. You feel too much. You care too much. That’s not weakness — that’s what makes you you.”

His throat tightens, and he looks down at her hand holding his like it’s something he doesn’t deserve.

“You’ve never seen what I’m really capable of.”

She steps closer and wraps her arms around him, pulling him into the warmth of her chest.

“I have. I’ve seen your kindness. Your restraint. I’ve seen you fight back the worst parts of yourself because you never want to hurt anyone. That’s what makes you stronger than anyone I know.”

His shoulders shake as he buries his face in her shoulder, and finally — finally — lets himself cry. Not the silent tears of guilt, but the full, painful sobs of someone who’s held too much for too long.

“I don’t want to be afraid anymore,” he whispers into the fabric of her coat.