"You said he's been stable for a few days now, right? Is he going to wake up soon?"
Shinobu had been there for three days.
Three days sitting beside his childhood friend's bed, barely leaving the room, as if he feared Sakuya might vanish the moment he looked away.
The nurse glanced at the monitors surrounding the bed. The lines were steady, regular. She took an extra second, out of professional habit, then turned back to Shinobu with a faint smile.
"Yes. He should wake up within the next few hours. The artificial coma has been lifted. Now… it's just a matter of time."
Shinobu nodded slowly, then shifted his attention back to Sakuya.
He had changed.
Far more than Shinobu would have thought possible.
Even after three days at his side, Shinobu still struggled to accept what he was seeing. A month ago, Sakuya had nearly died. An accident. A soul consumer. Absolute chaos. And yet…
His hair had grown unnaturally fast, as if several years had passed in just a few weeks. It now spilled across the pillow in a deep violet shade, almost unreal beneath the clinical lights.
His face, on the other hand, looked strangely untouched. Thinner. Smoother.
No trace of exhaustion. No scars. Not even the faintest mark of injury.
Nothing that suggested he had come within inches of death, trapped inside a crushed car at the center of an incident caused by an S-Class anomaly.
He looked… peaceful.
As if he were simply sleeping.
As if everything that had happened had been nothing more than a brutal, silent update to his body and his existence.
Shinobu clenched his fists slightly.
"…Come back to us soon, Saku."
The door slid open softly.
Omega-0 agent Mizunashi Seishō entered the room for his daily visit.
He stopped near the bed, silently observing Sakuya for a few seconds before turning to Shinobu, who met his gaze.
"Thank you again for letting me see him here…
I know this isn't something that's normally allowed. I really appreciate it."
Mizunashi gave a slight nod.
His expression remained neutral, impassive, unchanged.
"It's nothing, Shino. He's been through something terrible. When he wakes up, he'll need people around him. And… it won't be easy for him."
Shinobu ran a hand over his face, then looked back up at him, clearly questioning.
"I imagine it must be strange for you too, seeing him like this, right?
He's almost unrecognizable."
Mizunashi nodded slowly.
"That's true. Back when we were in school, he wasn't like this.
He seemed more… lost. More fragile, too."
Shinobu stiffened immediately. His tone hardened.
"You're being harsh with him.
I'm talking about his hair. His features. How much he's changed physically. He doesn't have a single scar, not a trace of injury. You saw him right after the incident. You were the one who rescued him."
He leaned forward slightly.
"How can you be so unsurprised by changes like that?"
Mizunashi briefly glanced at Sakuya's unmoving form, then turned back to Shinobu.
"If you had seen what I saw… I guarantee those details would be the least of your concerns."
Shinobu straightened in his chair, tense, almost defensive.
"Then why won't you tell me anything?
I'm the person closest to him.
What are you hiding from me?"
For the first time, a flicker of irritation crossed Mizunashi's expression.
"Listen. I can't tell you anything until I'm sure of it myself.
And even less so before I've spoken to Sakuya directly."
He paused, his voice growing firmer.
"It will be his decision what he chooses to tell you, and when.
Until then, it's not my place to reveal anything."
Silence settled heavily over the room, broken only by the steady rhythm of the machines.
Then, suddenly, Mizunashi narrowed his eyes.
He studied Sakuya's face with renewed attention, almost intrusive, as if trying to see beyond the skin… beyond the human itself.
And that was when he noticed it.
A minute, subtle detail he hadn't perceived before.
Something seemed to be flowing toward Sakuya's eyes. Seimei… or something resembling it.
It was hard to say for certain. Sakuya's flow was unique, alien to any known reference, and nearly impossible to perceive through Mizunashi's own Seimei.
Mizunashi turned toward the nurse.
"Have you checked his eyes?"
The nurse startled slightly, thrown off by the sudden and unexpected question.
"Uh… no, not recently. Why?"
Mizunashi looked back at the bed and gestured lightly toward Sakuya.
"You should open his eyes. Just to make sure everything is normal."
The nurse was about to reply when the conversation was abruptly interrupted.
A breath.
Deeper.
More alive.
A breath that no longer belonged to a body lost in unconsciousness.
Sakuya stirred.
A low groan escaped his lips, the sound of someone emerging from an artificially prolonged sleep. His fingers twitched clumsily, and in his confusion, he unknowingly brought a strand of his long violet hair to his mouth.
He was waking up.
Sakuya felt his lungs burn.
Breathing required an overwhelming effort, as if the air itself had grown too heavy.
He tried to move his fingers.
Nothing responded.
Only his breathing still obeyed him… barely.
In a confused reflex, he spat out the strand of hair in his mouth.
His body felt strangely contradictory.
Both crushing and hollow.
Heavy like a brick, immobile, anchored…
and yet so light it felt as though he might dissolve with the slightest breath.
He was in pain.
Not the pain of wounds, broken bones, or torn flesh.
No.
The pain came from inside.
As if his blood had grown acidic.
As if he could feel every pulse, every movement of the burning liquid running through his veins.
Then he tried to open his eyes.
It was almost impossible.
The light assaulted him instantly, violent and blinding, like a sun too close. His eyelids trembled before falling half-shut again.
Voices echoed around him.
Near.
Far.
Distorted.
He could hear them…
but he couldn't tell who was speaking,
or even what was being said.
Only the machines reached him clearly.
Too clearly.
Beep.
Beep.
It was unbearable.
As if every pulse had been amplified a thousand times, hammered directly into his skull. And yet… it might have been the only thing still anchoring him to reality.
The blanket had no texture.
Or rather, he couldn't feel it.
As if nothing rested on him at all.
The mattress, by contrast, felt hard as stone, unforgiving, unable to conform to his body in any way.
Then a voice pierced the haze.
"Sakuya…"
(Who…?)
He tried to move his fingers again.
At first, nothing.
Then…
A tremor.
Tiny. Weak. But real.
His body had responded. Barely.
Just enough for the movement to be visible.
Just enough for everyone in the room to notice.
Moving his fingers required an almost inconceivable effort.
As if his body still refused the very idea of obeying him.
He persisted.
Then forced the other hand.
This time, the movement came. Weak, clumsy, but real.
Something was loosening, as if the paralysis were retreating centimeter by centimeter.
He tried to open his eyes again.
The light struck him instantly, brutal and crushing. His eyelids snapped shut almost immediately, trembling, while he still tried to focus on the voices around him.
"It's going to be okay."
A woman's voice.
Soft. Reassuring.
But unfamiliar.
(Is she talking to me?)
(Where am I…?)
He opened his eyes a little longer this time.
She was there.
A young woman with black hair, leaning close to him, attentive, ready to intervene at the slightest sudden movement. Her gaze held something almost warm. A familiar, unsettling gentleness.
It reminded him of his mother.
When he was little.
When everything was simpler.
Then he slowly turned his head to the right.
And he saw him.
A young man in a wheelchair, completely still, staring at him without blinking. His expression was a strange mix of pure joy and restrained fear, as if he couldn't quite believe what he was seeing.
(…Shino?)
His eyelids closed again.
Just a few seconds.
Just enough time to breathe.
To gather what little remained of himself.
Then he opened his eyes again, determined to anchor himself back in reality.
He turned once more toward the woman and, after a visible effort, finally managed to produce a sound.
"Wh… who are you?"
His voice was hoarse, fragile, as if it didn't quite belong to him yet.
She held his gaze without rushing him, attentive to every sign of fatigue, then replied with a calm smile.
"I'm the nurse who's been watching over you since you arrived here."
Sakuya blinked slowly.
A simple gesture, but deliberate. He understood.
This time, his gaze drifted toward the foot of the bed.
(My legs… are they intact?)
An almost absurd doubt, yet impossible to ignore.
He focused, gathered what control he had left, and tried to move his feet.
They responded.
Weakly, but without resistance.
A silent breath escaped him.
Then, as he continued staring at his legs, a towering silhouette entered his field of vision.
A presence that sharply contrasted with the room's softness.
A tall man, dressed entirely in black.
Blond hair.
Fuchsia eyes, cold and piercing.
A hard, almost inhuman gaze that violently contrasted with the nurse's reassuring one.
(Who is that…?)
Sakuya slightly turned his head, searching for something familiar.
And this time, he looked toward the one he recognized almost instinctively.
"Is it… you, Shino?"
His voice was still weak, but already steadier, more grounded than it had been minutes ago.
Shinobu immediately leaned toward him, entering his field of vision completely.
His face bore none of his usual expression.
He was emotional. Truly.
"Yes… it's me, Sakuya."
His voice trembled slightly.
"You have no idea how relieved I am. I'm so happy you're safe."
Sakuya looked at him, still confused.
Surprised by those words.
And above all, by the weight of the past they seemed to carry, a past he couldn't yet fully grasp.
Sakuya remained silent.
His gaze drifted somewhere between the white ceiling and an invisible point, as if his mind were trying to retrieve a memory too heavy to surface all at once.
A few seconds passed.
The world seemed to hold its breath with him.
Then his lips moved again.
His voice was low. More stable.
Carrying something fragile…
"And… how is she…"
He swallowed with difficulty.
"How is Kanao?"