Yes, just like those flowers. There's something strained, but there's beauty in that. Something like that

But I'm willing to take a chance on believing there has to be a way. All I need is someone to believe with me.

One thing was absolutely certain—it was a given for Kazuo. Although he might not have particularlyrealized it, or more appropriately, perhaps because he was incapable of coming to such a realization, this was what it came down to: he, Kazuo Kiriyama, felt no emotion, no guilt, no sorrow, no pity, towards the four corpses, including Mitsuru's—and that ever since the day he was dropped into this world theway he was, he had never once felt a single emotion.

Yes, just like those flowers. There's something strained, but there's beauty in that. Something like that

There's no end to suspicion once you get going.

You're so kind, Kazuhiko. That's what I like about you." I like you, too. I love you so much." If he weren't so inarticulate, Kazuhiko could have said so much more. How much her expression, her gentle manner, her pure untainted soul meant to him. How important, in short, her existence was to him. But he wasn't able to put into words. He was only a third-year student in junior high, and worst yet, composition was one of his worst subjects.

Takako looked into Hiroki's eyes and grinned. "You've become quie a stud." "And...you're the most stylin' girl in the world." Takako smiled faintly. She wanted to thank him, but she was out of breath. She just stared at Hiroki's eyes. She was grateful. At least she wasn't going to die alone. The last person to stay with her ended up being Hiroki. And she was grateful. She really was.