Koharu sat beside Sakura's hospital bed, her presence calm but heavy. She gently held Sakura's injured hand, her thumb brushing lightly over the bandage. "…You okay?" she asked softly.
Sakura smiled, trying to ease the tension. "I'm fine. It's just a little injury, nothing else."
But Koharu didn't look convinced. Her eyes stayed fixed on Sakura's hand, her expression slightly dark, slightly distant. The thought kept circling in her mind—this happened because she wasn't there. And worse… someone had taken advantage of that.
Sakura noticed the change. Slowly, she lifted her uninjured hand and held Koharu's chin, making her look up. "I'm really fine," she said gently, her voice softer this time.
Koharu pouted slightly, like a child who didn't want to accept it. She didn't argue, didn't respond—just stood up quietly.
And left.
---
As soon as the door closed, the rest of OG rushed inside.
Hana looked toward the door, then back at Sakura. "Is Koharu angry or something… from you?"
Sakura shook her head. "No…"
Aiko crossed her arms, frowning slightly. "She looked like she's about to beat someone."
Kairi nodded. "Still… everything happened so fast, and she managed to control it all. That's impressive."
Hana suddenly spoke again, trying to lighten the mood, "But seriously… do you think we'll ever be able to drink alone again without starting a war?"
No one laughed.
Sakura stayed quiet.
Her eyes unconsciously moved toward the door.
---
By evening, Sakura was discharged.
The bandage on her hand was small, but noticeable.
As she stepped out of the hospital, her eyes searched around instinctively.
Maybe…
Just maybe—
Koharu would be there.
Waiting.
Leaning against her car.
Looking at her with that same unreadable expression.
---
But—
she wasn't.
---
Sakura's expression fell just a little.
Not enough for others to notice.
But enough for her to feel it.
"…Let's go," Aiko said.
Sakura nodded.
And quietly walked with her members.
---
Meanwhile—
somewhere else—
Koharu stood alone.
Silent.
Her hands clenched slightly.
Because this time—
it wasn't anger.
It was something heavier.
Something she didn't know how to handle.