And so, the mistletoe decided one tragic memory deserved another.
It's cold and dark and silent as the last winds from the impact fade away. Where he was standing only seconds before is a crater, as wide and deep as a school building, filled with ice shards and... Hayato can't tell if those spots are blood or shadows. He doesn't want to go down to take a closer look. Nowhere is there any trace of the bodies of the men who pushed him and his out of the way.
He stares into the crater, all the energy he built up before completely gone into thin air. He's numb, both from the snow beneath his hands and knees and from the completely hollow feeling in his heart.
Those idiots...!
The silence is broken by murmurs from the crowds huddled around the crater. They're barely audible, but carry with them a solemn sense of defeat and hopelessness. Things he hasn't felt so intensely in himself or in others for a long time. He'd nearly forgotten what it was like. His cheeks are even colder than before, and he realizes that they're tears.
Funny. When did he start crying?
The wind picks up again. Against the walls of ice surrounding everyone, a child's voice echoes, chanting out a single word.
Hayato was only vaguely aware of one of his own memories being dredged up. He knew his had a happy ending, and so he wasn't particularly bothered by it. Of more concern was the vision of the familiar dancer in his head, that delicate flower withering and dying before his eyes. No, not his eyes. The unnerving fellow's eyes, he presumed.
It wasn't real - he knew it couldn't be, not with Olivia being alive and well in the walls of the school, but it left him with a deep sense of grief nonetheless. Hayato pulled back, staring Henry down with a wary eye.
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It's cold and dark and silent as the last winds from the impact fade away. Where he was standing only seconds before is a crater, as wide and deep as a school building, filled with ice shards and... Hayato can't tell if those spots are blood or shadows. He doesn't want to go down to take a closer look. Nowhere is there any trace of the bodies of the men who pushed him and his out of the way.
He stares into the crater, all the energy he built up before completely gone into thin air. He's numb, both from the snow beneath his hands and knees and from the completely hollow feeling in his heart.
Those idiots...!
The silence is broken by murmurs from the crowds huddled around the crater. They're barely audible, but carry with them a solemn sense of defeat and hopelessness. Things he hasn't felt so intensely in himself or in others for a long time. He'd nearly forgotten what it was like. His cheeks are even colder than before, and he realizes that they're tears.
Funny. When did he start crying?
The wind picks up again. Against the walls of ice surrounding everyone, a child's voice echoes, chanting out a single word.
Hayato was only vaguely aware of one of his own memories being dredged up. He knew his had a happy ending, and so he wasn't particularly bothered by it. Of more concern was the vision of the familiar dancer in his head, that delicate flower withering and dying before his eyes. No, not his eyes. The unnerving fellow's eyes, he presumed.
It wasn't real - he knew it couldn't be, not with Olivia being alive and well in the walls of the school, but it left him with a deep sense of grief nonetheless. Hayato pulled back, staring Henry down with a wary eye.
"What," he hissed heavily, "was that?"