Later that day, I finally made it home.
The trip from Japan had drained whatever energy I had left, and by the time I stepped through the front door, all I wanted was a hot meal and several hours of uninterrupted sleep.
Luckily, Yuki was home.
"Hey, Yuki," I called as I dropped my bag near the staircase. "Could you ask the cook to come in and make me something? I haven't eaten properly since the flight."
"Of course," she replied before disappearing toward the kitchen.
I made my way upstairs, pushed open my bedroom door, and collapsed onto the bed without bothering to change clothes.
The mattress sank beneath me.
For a few moments, I simply stared at the ceiling.
Japan.
Grandpa.
Felix.
Kuro.
The thoughts chased each other around my head like a storm that refused to settle.
Eventually my mind drifted back to my conversation with Ethan at Parallax.
Then to Kuro.
Then to the message.
see ....I'm his very good friend and even you can't change that .
I frowned.
