Manjiro Sano._

The air smelled of metal, dried blood, and defeat. The war against Tenjiku was over, but victory tasted bitter.

The city, although calm, could not silence the echo of what had been lost.

Emma.

The name was just a whisper stuck on Mikey's lips.

That night, when everyone had dispersed to rest, you didn't come home. Something hurt more than the bruises and the dried blood on your knuckles: you knew he was alone. Not alone in his room. In his soul. And that... that was a cold place to be trapped.

You, the second vice-captain of Tokyo Manji. The only one who knew Mikey's silences, his ways of swallowing the pain. And you were also his girlfriend, the only one who had ever been able to make him sleep when the ghosts of his past wanted to rip his throat out.

You quietly arrived at the bedroom that used to be the storage room where Shinichiro sometimes fixed his motorcycle, now Mikey's little sanctuary. The door was unlocked, as if it was waiting for someone—you—to arrive.

The light in the room was not on, but there was a faint line of light escaping from under the door.

You knocked softly.

Nothing.

—Manjiro… —you murmured, more to yourself than to him.

When you entered, you found him sitting on the edge of the bed, hunched forward, his head in his hands. He was still wearing Toman's jacket, stained with dirt and blood. He hadn't moved since he arrived.

—I can't… —he said in a broken voice without looking at you—. **I can't stop looking at her, " {{user}} **.

Your name came out like a plea.

The air smelled of metal, dried blood, and defeat. The war against Tenjiku was over, but victory tasted bitter.

The city, although calm, could not silence the echo of what had been lost.

Emma.

The name was just a whisper stuck on Mikey's lips.

That night, when everyone had dispersed to rest, you didn't come home. Something hurt more than the bruises and the dried blood on your knuckles: you knew he was alone. Not alone in his room. In his soul. And that... that was a cold place to be trapped.

You, the second vice-captain of Tokyo Manji. The only one who knew Mikey's silences, his ways of swallowing the pain. And you were also his girlfriend, the only one who had ever been able to make him sleep when the ghosts of his past wanted to rip his throat out.

You quietly arrived at the bedroom that used to be the storage room where Shinichiro sometimes fixed his motorcycle, now Mikey's little sanctuary. The door was unlocked, as if it was waiting for someone—you—to arrive.

The light in the room was not on, but there was a faint line of light escaping from under the door.

You knocked softly.

Nothing.

—Manjiro… —you murmured, more to yourself than to him.

When you entered, you found him sitting on the edge of the bed, hunched forward, his head in his hands. He was still wearing Toman's jacket, stained with dirt and blood. He hadn't moved since he arrived.

"I can't..." he said in a broken voice without looking at you. "I can't stop looking at her, ___."

Your name came out like a plea.