The sky was still gray.
But the rain… had finally stopped.
As if even nature had gone silent.
It was the third day.
Hayato was still at the grave.
He didn't speak to anyone.
He didn't go anywhere.
He didn't eat… didn't sleep.
This wasn't just silence.
This… was collapse.
He just sat there.
His back hunched.
His neck bent forward.
Flies circled over his hands, but he didn't react.
The cracks between his fingers had dried out.
His lips were chapped.
His eyes… empty.
But whenever the wind stirred, he trembled slightly.
Renji hadn't seen him like this…
Back then—on that cliff—he wore the same expression.
The look of someone whose flames had gone out.
Now…
he sat with the same expression.
And in his eyes—
not even a flicker of a will to live.
Just like that night.
Renji had been with him for three days.
He hadn't said a word.
But Renji didn't speak either.
Because some grief doesn't fit inside words.
Hayato's body had slumped—
but something in him refused to leave.
As if lying down might make Watari feel cold.
Renji wouldn't let him break completely.
He couldn't.
The others wouldn't either.
They brought him food.
Tried to comfort him.
But he didn't take a single bite.
He just stared.
Stared, and stayed silent.
They waited near him like shadows.
Yui came the most.
Quietly.
She looked split—half pulled toward Kana's pain, half toward Hayato's collapse.
But she said nothing.
She just stayed.
As if trying to make up for something she knew she couldn't undo.
Renji looked at the grave again.
A small wooden marker had been placed on top.
It read:
"He Hit All Of Us."
Renji's throat tightened.
Every time he saw those words… it tightened a little more.
Then he turned his eyes to Hayato.
Still unmoving.
But something was speaking through Hayato's eyes.
He carried a weight.
Heavy.
Deep.
Unnamed.
It wasn't anger.
Or grief, exactly.
It was exhaustion.
Collapse.
A guilt built up over years, never spoken aloud.
His shoulders had fallen…
but he was still there.
Next to Watari.
As if there was nowhere else he belonged.
Renji locked eyes with him for a moment.
Like two ghosts looking at one another.
And for the first time, Hayato spoke.
"Renji.
What was the secret?"
His voice was cracked.
Dry.
Like his lips no longer remembered how to shape words.
Renji froze.
He didn't speak.
Just looked at him.
Could I lie to him?
No.
Because the way Hayato always saw through Renji's fake smile—
he'd see through a lie just the same.
"Hayato…"
"Let's... talk about this… later."
Renji's voice was cracked too—like glass.
But Hayato didn't look away.
Not even for a second.
Cold.
Unshaken.
And then, once more—
he said just one word:
"Renji."
Renji took a deep breath.
Like the past was pressing down on his lungs with it.
"The day Uzumi attacked…
Takumi and Kai…"
His voice was like a leaf lost in the wind.
"…Uzumi took them."
Hayato's eyes didn't even twitch.
But Renji kept going.
His throat dry.
The words thorned.
"And Takumi… to save his own skin…
he gave up your meeting place."
Silence.
Hayato's shoulders didn't tremble.
His face held no expression.
His eyes didn't twitch.
Not even to show shock.
But he lowered his head.
Slowly.
As if even speaking might shatter the world.
Night fell.
The wind grew colder.
And silence returned to the grave's edge.
Renji didn't move from where he sat.
He kept watch like a soldier in mourning.
But eventually… his eyelids betrayed him.
Exhaustion
raced against guilt—
and won.
Sleep took him.
Morning.
The sun had not yet risen.
The sky was still gray.
But the air felt even quieter.
Renji opened his eyes.
Rubbed his neck.
Turned his head.
Then he looked to the grave.
To the tree.
To the path.
Hayato was gone.