“I think the world is perfect,” he said simply, voice smooth, even. “People have moved on with their perfect lives. Happy, content, without their past weighing them down.” His eyes flickered toward her, searching, studying, even as his expression remained kind. “And yet...here we are.”

He tilted his head, the corner of his smile twitching as he papers down on his own feelings and scratches over the itch. “Perhaps the wrong here isn’t the world, Arisato-san. Perhaps it’s us—the ones who refuse to let go. The ones still clinging to the pain, the memories. Licking each other’s wounds instead of simply... moving on.”