Ganbou Daiisshou — Hametsu No

He stood before it, watching his own reflection splinter — not into fragments of glass, but into memories. Each shard held a failure: a word unsaid, a hand unclenched, a city he had watched burn from a safe distance. And yet, he smiled.

This was not madness. This was purpose.

He reached into the largest shard and pulled out a black flower — petals made of ash, roots made of regret. It bloomed in his palm, and with it bloomed the first note of a song that had no end. Hametsu no Ganbou Daiisshou