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"Hey, heeey, Waka," Ichiban's voice was shuddering, eyes minding where he was going and then back to the bleeding man he was carrying in his arms,
"Remember when you said you hated it when I carry you?" his voice was obviously in a panic, but he tries to even it out. He'll be fine, right? Right?
"Hate it," Masato replied weakly in between labored breaths, "Still."
Ichiban nods, desperately holding back his tears. He must stay strong for his Waka.
"I figured," he chuckled, "But this won't be the last time I carry you" he promised himself. "It won't."
Aoki shook his head weakly, "The Number One in stubbornness" a bloody hand tightly held onto Ichi's shirt, "Gonna keep... pushing you away."
"And I'll keep coming back like I always do."
Ichiban was hopeful. It was another chance. A reset. And resets were always good. They can start over and fix things.
"ICHIBAN!"
Ichiban halts his running and turns his head towards the voices calling out for him.
It was his friends. They followed him to the location of the lockers. "Everyone!" That's when he couldn't hold back the tears anymore and allowed himself to cry.
Ichiban swore he could still feel a heartbeat.
He ran towards them instead, his arms holding his beloved young master tight, "Please help him," his voice cracks, "Nanba, help him. Save him," he fell to his knees and cried...