Removing his hand from Toshimi's shoulder, Kouchisei watched students in the crowd as a distraction. His mind was racing: Sato-kun was dead. He thought of his mother's illness and subsequent death. She'd died so differently... His throat was too dry: he ran a finger around his collar. Grief was a private affair for him - he stopped straining to see what had happened. This was uncomfortable. Quiet.
He looked at Toshimi herself. They knew each other in class. She seemed frozen. In shock, perhaps? She didn't seem the sort to hold morbid curiosity.
“I... I had no idea."
He stepped back some. The thought of seeing Kato's body made him feel like a voyeur.