[ It doesn't matter what she does in the end—the moment still unfolds as it once did, as it probably did many times before and after this. It hurts her to think about it like that—that this had to have happened more than just this one memory. That he must've been just a child, so much younger than the Ryuji that's now lying on the floor.
She doesn't know the full story behind what happened with his father—what happened to him, how and when Ryuji and him mom left—but this is a glimpse of something beyond what she could have imagined. It's one thing to hear about it, but it's another to see it.
When his father finally leaves, she crouches down beside Ryuji, her knees thumping against the floor, and kneels over him, her expression fraught with concern. Even though she was just a spectator, she's obviously shaken, her eyes wide and hands quaking. ]
Are you okay? Ryuji...
[ It's a memory, so he shouldn't actually be hurt, right? ]
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She doesn't know the full story behind what happened with his father—what happened to him, how and when Ryuji and him mom left—but this is a glimpse of something beyond what she could have imagined. It's one thing to hear about it, but it's another to see it.
When his father finally leaves, she crouches down beside Ryuji, her knees thumping against the floor, and kneels over him, her expression fraught with concern. Even though she was just a spectator, she's obviously shaken, her eyes wide and hands quaking. ]
Are you okay? Ryuji...
[ It's a memory, so he shouldn't actually be hurt, right? ]