Nana leans back, when he does. There is a soft, hitched sigh -- it jostles her wounded arm, too -- and she rests back on her legs. "We can wait here, then," she says. "For everyone else. But..."

She looks down at him. Her eyes drift to the wrist he's cradling. She has a soft smile on her face -- it's forced -- and still has a few lingering tears in her eyes. "...Is your wrist hurt, Yuya?"