A Single Untouched Band

“Is that—” Yamada speaks first, but Aizawa’s free hand is already at his forehead, nails digging into his scalp as the painful nostalgia threatens to strangle him. He can’t respond, he can’t even breathe, not until he reaches into the case with a quaking hand, easing the memory into his palm. He finally manages to inhale deeply, feeling the plastic prick at his calloused hands. Without a word, Aizawa sets down the pencil pouch, and slides the ring down his own finger. It’s snug. More so than before. He realizes truly how much he’s aged.Aizawa and Yamada study the shabby band in silence, the dark-haired man slowly turning his hand to take in every angle. The faint scent of chlorine and sunshine wafts through his senses.“…You loved him, didn’t you?”(After Shirakumo's death, a token of trash-turned-treasure haunts a grieving Aizawa throughout the years.)