Atsumu wandered the town as he always did when he was feeling stressed, depressed, or even just wistful. Tonight, it was all of the above. Just an hour ago, Tsurumi had called him and, somehow, they had gotten into a conversation about Menma…but how, again…? Ah, yes, she had finally gotten irritated enough from all their little shopping excursions. He couldn’t blame her, but he couldn’t help it, either.
And finally, once Tsurumi got exceptionally cranky, he’d nonchalantly stated that Menma, the girl she was ragging on him about, was clearly ten times more compassionate and understanding than she could ever be. A silence. But Atsumu knew her well enough to feel the cold contempt within it. Then, she had hung up.
"How predictable," he had murmured aloud with a bewildered chuckle to hide the newfound alienation he felt, having lost his only friend.
…which brought him back wandering around. He made his way to the bridge that the Super Peace Busters always frequented back in the day. Here in the dark of the night, it was silent save only for the chattering insects.
He traced a path with his eye down to the hill, which lied near the river. If he looked now, he even saw a shadow of Menma.
I really can’t let you go, Menma…I wish you were really here. I need you. Only within his innermost thoughts during a dark time so late at night would he admit that even to himself. Oh, if Tsurumi were to see him now.
He trudged down the hill, following the phantom, holding back tears that stung his eyes. His hallucination of her was worryingly vivid. He had even imagined her growing as old as he.
"Menma," he said to the vision, unable to contain his tears, "why did it have to be you that fell?"
