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It had been decades since this plane hit the mountainside, yet Mamoru could feel it crashing through everything he knew, scattering the broken pieces to the elements.
“Robin… Firebird… people die,” she said. “From what I hear of this place, people die here all the time. Why is this little handful of lives so important to you?” “Because no one is looking out for them.”
Her father always said there were things you couldn’t train into a fighter—spirit, courage, the ability to be something bigger than oneself. Robin wasn’t like the hundreds of koronu who claimed bravery and selflessness. He would honestly die to protect the dirtiest beggar in this slum. It was ridiculous, it was beautiful, and it sent a terrible anxiety clawing through Misaki.
That’s what happens when you come into contact with people who aren’t quite like you. You learn over time that the world isn’t broken. It’s just… got more pieces to it than you thought. They all fit together, just maybe not the way you pictured when you were young.”
“You’re guilty of the same thing I am—trying to please and obey your elders.”
Mamoru hadn’t inherited his strength from his father. It had come from her.
were: a woman who needed her husband, and a man who needed his wife.
a person’s tragedy doesn’t define them or cancel all the good in their life.
Wholeness, she had learned, was not the absence of pain but the ability to hold it.
What was strange was that she could love him and love Takeru at the same time.
