The bright July sun tickled Taji’s face, a gentle caress he hadn't fully registered until now. Ten years. It felt almost unreal, this lightness, this profound sense of release, knowing that the bullet fragment lodged in him from Bryan’s mistake was finally, completely gone. The sterile chill of the operating room, the hushed urgency of unfamiliar medical staff—he’d stood on the precipice of life once more. And now, with a clarity that pierced through the lingering haze of anesthesia, he felt Bryan’s presence, solid and unwavering, beside him.

“Hey, Blu. You coming around?”

The familiar voice was a balm to his ears, a melody he’d yearned to hear. He blinked, his vision slowly clearing to reveal Bryan’s worried face filling his sight. The messy mop of hair, the shadows under his eyes, but beneath it all, the same genuine concern for Taji that had always been there.