I can't comprehend what drove us here. What led me to be who I am now?
I am scared, Ban. It is dark in here, and I can't see the way out. I know where I am, but I can't accept it; if I do, it would be the end, the end of me, the end of everything I believe in. I feel compelled to give up, to let someone else take over my life; for once, it would be great if someone else could carry my burden—the unshed tears, the humorless smiles. I can already hear what you would say to that. "Ginji, are you crazy? Since when do you give up so easily? We are the GetBackers, and we get the job done no matter what!". I can see clearly the way your blue eyes would pierce into mine while you say those words; I can even picture your bright smile justifying everything I've fought for, your lips holding a cigarette.
I think you should stop smoking, Ban. If you're not careful, you'll die from cancer. Funny how nothing can kill you: not the hunger or the lack of money, or the fatal wounds you get from our missions; yet that horrid habit slowly steals your life away as you see it before your eyes, vanishing into the sky in the form of gray smoke… I never told you this, but at times I hate it when you smoke, the car smells funky after a while, not to mention your clothes. Though I might add despite myself, I never knew someone who looked so good smoking. It sure fits you.
As I lay here in the darkness, remembering our time together, I realize that you, Ban Midou, have made my life complete. The times we had to sleep in the car, the long days where we would starve because we didn't have enough money to buy something to eat; the rainy afternoons with Natsumi and Paul in the Honky Tonk, and the fun we'd have when Kasuki and Shido and Heaven and Madoka and everyone else were with us. Yet I can only remember your blue eyes piercing through my soul, your confident smile encouraging me to be a better person. I don't know what I would be had not been for you, Ban. Thank you.
And then, I ask myself again, what have I become?