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“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.”
“I won’t raise another generation as blind as my own.” Because it was nighttime and no one was around to see, Misaki reached out and found her husband’s sword-calloused fingers. They had been married fifteen years. It was the first time they had ever held hands.
Wholeness, she had learned, was not the absence of pain but the ability to hold it.

