Izumi steps closer. Naomi, noticing him, gestures to the bench beside her.
"Sit down," she says gently.
Izumi sits beside her, the breeze carrying a heavy silence between them.
"There's something I want to tell you," Naomi begins.
"What is it?" Izumi asks, eyes searching hers.
"I know you so well, Izumi. I know how you always carry everyone's burden like it's your own. Even if we're not that close… I actually got to know you through Sota. You looked so unapproachable at first." She chuckles softly. "But the truth is… we're alike. So much alike, it's kind of scary. And for once, I thought… maybe I could give you hope this time. Maybe I could carry a little of the weight you always bear alone."
Izumi blinks. "Where is this going, Naomi? What do you mean?"
"You know… the day after the mall incident, something in me broke. I left my house, desperate for answers. I went to Narita Mall, to the spot where Asahi… died. I started hallucinating. I saw her, Izumi. I saw her. I screamed so loud, the guards heard me. I ran… aimlessly. Days passed. I came home and collapsed at the front door. My parents were terrified."
She pauses, the weight of her memories pressing on her.
"Even after I woke up, I couldn't stop. I devoted everything — time, energy, my sanity — to searching for answers. For anything. And then… I found him."
"Who?" Izumi leans in.
"I found Kenji," she says. "He was passed out in a phone booth… and then someone in a gas mask dragged him into a van. I followed them. It led me to a strange construction site. I watched them take him inside. I tried to follow, but someone saw me. I panicked… I ran. I left him behind."
"Kenji is alive?" Izumi's voice trembles — a mix of shock, disbelief, and cautious hope.
"I believe he is. I don't know if he's okay, but I believe he's alive. And Izumi, I want to find him. I've already sent you the route. We can do this together. I know we'd make a great team."
She turns toward him, her eyes filled with fire, with purpose — hope.
But then —
Bang.
A gunshot rings out. In an instant, She collapses, her blood painting the bench.
Izumi's world stops.
His pupils shrink. His breathing halts.
He sees Asahi again — the memory flashing before him. Her death. Her blood. Her headshot. That exact moment, again.
He snaps back. Instinctively, he throws himself behind the bench.
She was shot from behind the head, he realizes.
His hands tremble, pressed against the wood stained by Naomi's blood. His heart is pounding, but his limbs feel heavy. Numb. Confused. Lost.
Another shot. It whizzes past his face, cracking into the bench's side.
Izumi jerks his head to the side, eyes scanning frantically.
And then — he sees him.
A figure. Gas mask. Rifle. Watching.
Izumi's pupils dilate. It's him. The one from Narita Mall. The one who killed Asahi.
The one who might've taken Kenji.
Rage boils in his chest.
He bolts — darting across the sand, using the rocks as cover. He runs, runs without looking back. Escaping the scope of death itself.
Eventually, he reaches the city. His shirt is drenched in blood. His legs barely hold him up.
People stare.
He breathes rapidly. Erratically. One hand clutching his chest, trying to still the storm inside.
And in the crowd, surrounded by strangers, Izumi is completely, terrifyingly alone.