[what's hilarious about it is that they're not entirely the friends he was talking about. subaru, yes. akira's just a vague acquaintance of circumstance that he normally doesn't talk to.

and fuuma...

how does he answer that? what is fuuma like?

well, if nothing else, that question has him thinking and laser-focused, though even if he weren't, he'd be unlikely to notice the rumors milling about. he's used to it; a boy who grew up with no father was always an outcast with no friends in a society like theirs, save for the exceptions.]

Fuuma.. Fuuma is...

[he winces, pained.]

What is Fuuma like...?

[he doesn't even know anymore. once warm and kind, and now... cold. intent on killing him, but not before toying with him this way and leaving him bleeding out on the streets like this.

It's Complicated.] He's...

Someone... I want to protect... someone... I...

[his breathing is definitely a bit labored; his face pale, and thought it's not from the physical pain, it seems like there are a few tears stinging at his eyes. it's not from anything akira is doing—this is a deep, emotional wound in his heard.]

I have to bring him... back...