" why, tomura. you act as though i've have time to miss you. " night keeps its steadfast grip over the villa. even the moon seems to interrupt the quietness of the time, a light too bright. though his retort rolls easily off the tongue, his expression reveals how true his sarcasm seems. eyes droop with rarely seen exhaustion. as the mask is unhooked from his face, a soft collection of stubble gathers around his chin. he's tired. between rebuilding the hassaikai from the ground up, being an active lieutenant, and managing the medical ward, fatigue clings to bones.