(Yuuta apartment yard) Time:- 12:30
The sun hung directly overhead, its rays falling upon the apartment garden like a hammer striking an anvil.
The grass had lost its morning dew, the flowers had begun to droop, and the air shimmered with heat that rose from the pavement in waves.
It was twelve-thirty, the hottest part of the day, and Yuuta sat cross-legged in the middle of the yard, his face turned toward the sun, his eyes closed, his breathing slow and deliberate.
The heat burned his skin.
Sweat trickled down his forehead, his cheeks, his neck. His shirt clung to his back, damp and uncomfortable. But he did not move.
He did not wipe his face. He did not shift his position. He sat as still as stone, as still as death, as still as a man who had finally found something worth enduring pain for.
