Someone was calling for him.

Upon hearing the familiar voice, Miharu's legs began running towards it before he could even think.

Waiting for him, across the open field that he had so conveniently found himself in, was Yoite. He was dressed in his usual attire: a tan cap and gloves coupled with a long black trench coat which tied in the back.

Yoite was smiling; arms wide open as Miharu couldn't seem to pick up speed fast enough.

Basically flinging himself into Yoite's embrace, the young boy found warmth there. "Yoite…" he uttered as Yoite's arms wrapped around him warmly.

Yoite didn't say anything, only bringing Miharu closer to himself as he cried with joy, perhaps.

* * * * * * * *

Miharu's eyes shot open.

There was a cold sweat that drenched his forehead, as well at the tips of his dark locks. He attempted vaguely to catch his stolen breath, finding that his cheeks felt like they were stuck to his skull. Taking a deep breath, Miharu let it out with a rather shaky sigh. His eyelids shut tightly as tears slipped from underneath them. He drew an incomplete white scarf towards himself when the realization came that what he had experienced was only a figment of his imagination.

Miharu clasped his palm over his mouth to stifle his distraught sobs, if not to stop them completely. He missed Yoite. And to mount to that unending stress, one of the five Secret Arts had been stolen among the chaos that erupted about three months ago.

He didn't care much about it, but his friends, on the other hand, did. Aizawa had been planning to use said scroll to cure his immortality.

Mostly, nowadays, Miharu found himself locked in his room. He had taken up sewing in place of Yoite, although he didn't dare touch the scarf with the couple of dulled needles that he so often used for his projects. The scarf was left unfinished, but that was how it reminded Miharu of his late friend, Yoite. After all, that was how he had lived his life up until his final breaths.

Incomplete. All alone.

His musky green eyes darted to the digital clock that hung obediently on the wall across from him. 3:27 AM. Miharu sat upright, and his bed sheets sliding down to his lap as he did so. He used the back of his balled fist to rub away his remaining tears, looking exhausted as he mustered up the strength to kick up the blankets, and proceed to get up.

Clearing his hoarse throat, Miharu rubbed at his eyes indifferently. He took his time in getting up, as not to upset his still-resting body.

That was when he heard the familiar voice calling to him once more.

'Another dream…?' Miharu wondered to himself as he looked to where the voice was emitting from. It was his closet.

It all happened so suddenly that Miharu barely knew what to do with himself.

"Miharu…?" Yoite's voice asked softly as his closet door seemingly opened itself.

Miharu just sat there in shock. His eyes were still busy adjusting, so he could only make out the silhouette of his dear friend as he stepped out from the ajar closet. He rubbed at them frantically, as if to verify what he was seeing as the truth.

"Y… Yoite?" he stammered, nearly inaudible in his shock. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he told himself it was a trap. He swallowed hard and hoped that part of his mind was wrong.

Yoite stepped out of the shadows. His gloved hand came up to his mouth as he cleared his throat, and he gave Miharu a sad but beautiful smile. "Miharu, I—"

The man was cut off abruptly when Miharu sprang off the bed and locked his arms around him, tears slipping down his pale cheeks. "Yoite-!!" he cried in a hushed tone. He was barely able to contain his happiness.

Yoite took the boy into his arms gently, stroking his back in a comforting manner. "I'm sorry for being late…" he murmured, kneeling down as to set Miharu on solid ground again.

Miharu bit his lip as he attempted to make his tears stop. He didn't care to ask for any type of explanation for this happening. All he knew was that he definitely felt the fabric of Yoite's coat against his arms, and the tears streaming down his face. It was real.

"It's okay… Please don't cry, Miharu." Yoite assured him, the saddened smile still there as he wiped the boy's tears away.

Miharu shook his head. "I'm crying for you, stupid." He couldn't help but laugh as he insulted the older boy.

"I'm glad..." Yoite uttered to him, his eyes sparkling with a humble joy that Miharu hadn't seen in so long.

"But…" Miharu trailed, staring up at him. "… How are you here…?"

"I… Um…" Yoite's gaze dropped to the floor.

Miharu blinked twice, wondering why his face looked so ashamed.

That was when the situation clicked mentally. "Yoite… You didn't…!" he gaped slightly in disbelief as his eyes widened towards him.

Yoite had stolen the medical scroll.

"I knew you would be mad… I'm sorry…" Yoite apologized solemnly as he bowed his head.

Miharu felt his heart become scrambled as emotions clashed; On one side, he was glad that Yoite was alive, but… He had stolen Aizawa's chance to regain mortality, which was something he had been striving for his whole life.

"I'm not mad, but… Who did you…?"

"Oh, no! You mustn't think I sacrificed someone who was unwilling, Miharu." He looked up at him, hurt from the assumption.

"Then how…?" Miharu asked, feeling vulnerable.

Yoite drew in a deep breath, and then let it out as a sigh. "An old woman saw my condition, and… She offered to save me." He uttered.

"Do you still have the Kira ability…?"

"No. That was relinquished along with my sickness." Yoite responded with a frown. He slid a hand into his jacket and prepared to pull something out.

Miharu tensed up, crossing his frail arms in front of him as if to shield himself from any type of weapon.

The taller boy looked disappointed with this as he pulled out a small scroll from his jacket. "Here." He stated, placing it in Miharu's hands.

Feeling guilty, Miharu scooted away as he rolled the scroll under his bed.

"Please don't be sad anymore, Miharu. I did this for you." Yoite muttered softly as he pulled the young teenager into his arms once more.

"That's why I'm sad, stupid…" Miharu murmured into his chest, clinging to the fabric of his coat and resting against him.

"Should I leave…?" Yoite asked, although he seemed to have no intention of leaving.

"…" Miharu just sat there in silence, and Yoite assumed he was deciding on an answer. That was, until he looked down to find the small boy asleep.

Smiling, Yoite laid him down in bed and tucked him in, returning to the closet as he watched the sleeping Miharu.

Eventually his thoughts slipped from his grasp as well as his movements, and he slipped into a peaceful dream.