Ayame’s lips quivered. Her breath hitched. But the words didn’t come.
Her wide eyes darted downward—then suddenly—

A flicker of memory.
6 Years Ago — Nakamura block, Apartment. 5:43 PM.

It’s quiet. Rain patters against the window.
Ayame is curled up under the low kitchen table, knees tucked to her chest, hugging a faded cushion. Her small schoolbag sits beside her, in front of her a small basket with few cylindrical gums.

She doesn’t cry. She just stares blankly, mumbling to herself.

The door creaks. Hiro steps in.

HIRO (softly):
“Ayame?”

No response. Just a sniff.
He crouches down beside the table, lowers himself onto the floor with a grunt, and rests his back on one of the feet of the table.

HIRO:
“Now this is a fine hiding spot. I used to hide here too when your grandma scolded me.”

Ayame doesn’t smile.
She curls tighter.

AYAME (barely audible):
“...They said I’m weird.”
“That I’m a monster.”

HIRO:
“Kids at school?”

She nods.

AYAME (voice trembling):
“They said my gum is creepy. That I cheat. That people like me shouldn’t exist.”
(Pause)
“I hate my life.”
“I wish I was never born.”

A heavy silence.
Hiro’s smile fades.
He carefully reaches in and places a hand on her head.

HIRO (gentle, but firm):
“Hey. Don’t ever say that again.”

AYAME (still not looking at him):
“But it’s true…”

HIRO:
“No, it’s not.”
(beat)
“You were born exactly as you were meant to be. That gum, those powers… they’re part of you.”
“They make life messy, sure. But they also make you special.”
“And if someone else can’t see that—then that’s their problem, not yours.”

He taps the top of her head lightly, like knocking on a melon.

HIRO (half-grinning now):
“This little head of yours is still growing. Don’t let other people fill it with trash.”

She finally looks at him. Eyes red, confused.

HIRO (softly):
“Whether or not you deserve to live—that’s not for them to decide.”
(beat)
“That’s your call, Ayame. So… what do you think?”

AYAME (whispering):
“...I don’t know.”

HIRO:
“Then I’ll tell you what I think.”
(smiles)
“I think this world would be a dull place without you.”
“And your gum.”

Ayame finally lets out a tiny, reluctant laugh.

She wipes her eyes on her sleeve.

Hiro then reached out for the basket underneath the table, “Hey let me have some of them.” he said.

Present Day — Balcony

Her breath caught in her throat. Her lips still quivered.

That memory — his voice — still echoing.

Kaito’s grip tightened.
“Say it!”

She shook her head, tears pouring freely now.
“I… I don’t want to die…” she whispered.

“LOUDER.”

“I want to live!” she screamed, the words ripped from somewhere deep.

As if that little girl under the table had finally spoken.