Osamu thought he ought to feel more threatened by the various dreams of ominous foretelling, but instead he only woke each time with an ever-increasing apathy. It was a sorry state to see him in.
With this latest vision he regarded the Dream Visitor as one might an inconvenient relative. Rocks, ruin, and regret; the three r's seemed to define the spectral wolf's entire existence.
The portals opened.
From one, the sound of song; from the other, snarls and the tearing of flesh; from the last... it was indescribable.
It was the sound his heart had made every day after Izumi's disappearance. It was the sound of loneliness, of isolation, and after Fujiwara had crumbled Osamu's second chance at a life worth living had vanished along with them.
Wordlessly he stepped through the third door.
Wordlessly he grabbed hold of a glowing chain, barely registering the searing heat burning his tongue, and pulled.
What else was there, in the end?
Perhaps he could give someone else another chance.
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