It was only a few minutes later that Seijirou's motorcycle roared through the quiet street near the Learning Center.
The bike skidded to a smooth halt near the curb, right in front of the bench where Touka was sitting.
Her head was lowered, her long hair shielding her face like a curtain, and her shoulders were trembling with a rhythmic, silent vibration.
Seijirou pulled off his helmet as he walked toward her, his heavy boots clicking on the pavement. "Touka, I'm here. Sorry, did I make you w—"
Seijirou didn't even get to finish his words.
The moment Touka heard his voice—the one anchor she had in a world that had just tried to erase her—she suddenly looked up.
Her eyes were swollen and red from crying, her face pale with the lingering shock of the uncanny.
Without a word, she lunged toward him, her movements frantic as she threw her arms around his waist, burying her face into his chest, and began to sob.
