Everything was so simple, once upon a time. Fuurouta was a ghost that entertained children, played pranks, and inevitably won extra ice cream. Joining the Superhuman Bureau was just like a game; another thing to occupy time and prove his abilities. Hanging out with that alien girl wasn't too awful, either.
And then he met Campe.
Poor, poor Campe.
There wasn't even a good reason for what had happened. Fuurouta had wanted to prove himself, and "solving" the black fog seemed like the perfect opportunity. It was a fun thing to do, just like messing with that bug stand was. Five years later, when he finally understood what exactly he had done, it was far, far too late. The Tartaros Bugmen were long dead and Campe had spent that time preparing to face their killer.
Campe had spent that time preparing to kill her friend, who had caused the genocide of her people.
Fuurouta had been friends with many children in his existence, and fancied himself as pretty good at it. He knew that friends hung out with each other, entertained each other, and played with each other. Friends were supposed to be able to keep each other's secrets, and know that no matter what, they would have each other's backs.
Friends were not supposed to leave friends to fend for themselves in unfamiliar territory.
Friends were not supposed to leave friends alone, without anyone to rely on.
Fuurouta was not a good friend.
Sometimes he wondered if he hadn't hurried off, if he hadn't been such a busybody, things might have turned out differently. Jirou had said that it was okay, that he could stay the way he is, but what was the point? The rug had been pulled out from under him, the lights flicked on and surprise! He was messing things up since day one.
Campe had come to him, seeking the comfort of a friend in a scary environment, and he had flippantly left her to struggle on her own. Ghosts were supposed to be friends. Friends were supposed to support each other.
So much for that.