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Masanori
Masanori joined his family in the dining room, sitting on his cushion at his designated spot at the table. It was decorated with a cotton cloth, dyed purple and embroidered with intertwined dragons. The colour made the backs of Masanori’s eyes burn. He blinked to push away the rising memories, but he slipped back into nightmares of violet fog. Blood-slick hands, Aihi’s corpse beneath him.
Most days since their return, the constant reminders of the previous month kept him isolated. Except for tonight, Masanori found every excuse in the book to stay in his room or train, alone, in the courtyard. He couldn’t talk to Hidekazu. He could barely process his own experiences.
Masanori shook away the hint of lavender floating around the tablecloth, focusing on the conversation betwee
