Okay, he's going to read the letter frfr now.
He stares at it for probably and hour before groaning and opening it up.
The inside front cover bears a short, scrawled note in fading ink:
KΕji - Thought you could use a notebook to write down all your tea blend ideas.
- LCPL Hatch
Seiya flipped through the book, the first half would be filled with page after page of tea blend concepts, some scribbled out so violently the pen has nearly torn through. Notes in the marginsβtoo bitter, no balance, this one workedβtry again with less cloveβlayer over each other like a mind working faster than his hands could keep up.
Then, abruptly, the purpose of the notebook would shift. The second half is full of letter drafts.
Every single one addressed to Seiya.
Some are barely a few sentences before being scratched out. Others span entire pages, the ink pressing heavier in some spots, like the weight of the words had settled deep into Zeroβs bones as he wrote them. No version is quite the same, but they all circle the same truthsβapologies, regrets, things unsaid, things Zero never figured out how to deliver.
At the back, thereβs one that isn't scratched out.
Itβs not perfect. The handwriting is a little less rigid, a little less self-conscious. Like maybe, in that moment, Zero had written without second-guessing himself.