On the Day of the Great Victory, Black reunited with White.

Black lay still, unable to move. He was tired. He was weak.

Black had done his time and was ready to die, but seeing White’s face, he felt neither relief nor peace.

White crouched by the bed, holding Black’s cold hand and staring at his gaunt face.

White had remained pure as a dove soaring in the boundless sky, while Black… had done many things and seen too much.

Black wanted to tell White he was sorry. Sorry for how he had abandoned him. Sorry for the years…