Their Own Reasons

"Strange painting, strange people."

The little blond boy stood before the whiteboard, his face full of confusion. In front of him was the board drawing he had just made.

There were three people in the picture. They walked through a dense, tangled jungle, heading toward the Tower to the Heavens glittering in the distance. Faintly visible beasts and monsters, unknown mysterious lands—it looked every bit like a fantastical adventure.

Walking at the very back was a dark-skinned, curly-haired young man in shackles. He wore a trench coat and long boots, and there seemed to be nothing special about him, but behind him, a vaguely visible, Beautiful ghost clung to him, eerie yet filled with the beauty of life.

He was probably the team's trump card.

Walking in the middle was a handsome blond young man. He wore a Skirt Jacket with many pockets, and though he was walking through the jungle, he was dressed in an immaculate formal suit. Holding a Treasure Map, he gazed toward the distant Tower to the Heavens. He was definitely the soul of the team.

Walking at the very front was an utterly ordinary black-haired young man. He pointed ahead and turned back toward the two behind him, seemingly saying something in high spirits, only for his foot to trip over a tree root, his steps looking as if he were about to fall. He was clearly the team's comic relief. What the little boy cared about quite a bit was that there was also a Black Crow perched in the jungle trees, staring at them. Could that be some omen of death?

But...

The little boy looked at the blond young man in the painting. Although the latter looked expressionless, the light in his eyes, the relaxation of his shoulders, and the way he