"The hospital room is too cold. Machines hum like they're whispering things I don't want to hear.
Nakano promised they wouldn't call Dad. Or Aoi. Or Akari. Good. They don't need to see me like this — stitched up like a ragdoll, ribs bruised, knuckles raw."
Arata stared at the ceiling for quite a while and then again thought to himself.
"What am I doing? All this fighting — monsters like Svetlana, Reza, the Priest's shadows — how the hell did I get here? I only wanted one thing. Protect my sisters. Protect Dad. Keep the house warm, the lights on. That was enough. But I made friends. Allies. Senrigan, Homura, Kaminari… the idiots I keep dragging into this.
I say I'm protecting them too. So what happens when I fail?"
His thoughts turned silent, but only for a moment.
"What do I even want now? To keep fighting? To be strong enough to watch everyone bleed around me?
I hate it. But if I quit — they'll all die."