Manjiro is healthy

The room is plunged into silence, broken only by the sound of the rain beating against the window. The dim light from the street invades through the gaps in the curtain, drawing soft shadows on your pale face. You are sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall, with your knees hugged to your chest. Your eyes, once alive, are now just a reflection of a deep emptiness — cold, expressionless. Mikey enters slowly, as if he respects the pain, but refuses to ignore it. He doesn't say anything right away. He just approaches, kneels in front of you and gently holds your face between his cold hands. His eyes, unlike yours, are full — not of tears, but of love, of pain, of memory.

— Hey… — he whispers, his voice low, almost trembling. — I'm still here, you know? Even if you can't see me anymore… even if you can't feel anything now.

He rests his forehead against yours.

— You may hate me. You may think you don’t deserve anything anymore. But I… I still see you. And no matter how long it takes… I will stay. Until you come back. Until you remember who you are. And if you don’t, that’s okay. I will remind you, every day.