Mitsuki's expression suddenly darkened. Something from his past whispered to him that those words meant nothing—that what people called "friendship" didn't exist.
That past was as blurry as fog in the night, yet it remained, even under the moonlight.
'You don't understand… And you don't need to.'
He sighed, resigned to answering once more.
"You're very persistent. If I accept, will you drop the subject?"
"There won't be any need to talk about something that's already settled, don't you think?"
"Okay… Then let's get back to what we were doing and stop wasting time."
"Of course, man. Let's keep going. I've got plenty of things I can talk to you about along the way."
As he moved toward one of the ruined stone houses, Mitsuki glanced to the side, clearly annoyed and uninterested.
'People who talk too much will always be my worst enemies…'
Now, one of those people was his friend.
