It was late at night, long after the dinner they had ordered arrived.
Seijirou had decided to stay the night in one of the private rooms on the third floor of the new base, insisting he needed to be close to Renji, Shou, and Sakai while they recovered.
Of course, Haruka, Suzune, Emi, and Yukina had all insisted on staying with him, claiming solidarity, though their true motives were complex and varied.
Seijirou was lying on a spare bed, his bruised body aching, but his mind wide awake and churning.
He kept replaying the humiliating scene: the feeling of Ayano's fist connecting, the crack of his own ribs, the sheer power that had rendered his physical perfection irrelevant.
He sighed, his breath catching painfully.
He realized the bitter truth: he had become complacent.
