The silence was deafening.
And the mist was heavy.
Azuma was aware of every moment that passed since Shiro stopped breathing. It's hasn't been long, he could still hear the laboured echo of her breaths in his mind.
Somehow, those few moments made him feel like carrying the burden of countless ages.
He couldn't move as he remained rooted on the ground. He didn't move as if his persistence could bring back her breaths.
But it was obviously a futile stubbornness.
And then, it happened.
Thunderous footsteps cleaved the mist, their sounds resonated everywhere. The noise alone spoke of extensive battle gear and spelt troubles.
Azuma didn't resist when the officers came for him, rough hands shoved him down—thrusting his face against the ground with such a force as if they weren't dealing with a human but a rabid beast.
