The overcast across the city of Ikebukuro was perfect to describe the city. Gray, bland, and colorless. As the citizens droned about, living their monotone lives, high up in a bedroom window, a yellow as brilliant as the sun intruded upon its drab, gray surroundings.
The intrusion of color was none other than the bright, bleached blond hair of Shizuo Heiwajima. The twenty-three-year-old sat upon his bed, anxiously dreading the event that was to come.
Practicing wedding vows.
Shizuo trembled slightly. Oh, how he dreaded and loathed what he was to do in five-and-a-half hours.
Meet his groom-to-be, Kadota, propose; more or less to keep things formal, and then spend the next hours rehearsing wedding vows.
Shizuo shuddered. He truly had no romantic feelings toward Kadota, and detested this arranged marriage. Shizuo did not want to go through with this.
Sighing, Shizuo reclined against his pillow and grabbed his sketch pad and pencil. After a moment of contemplation, a small, relaxed smile transformed Shizuo's features, and he began to draw with the masterful patience and precision of a skilled artist.
The subject of Shizuo Heiwajima's drawing was a man with black hair and sad, longing eyes—Shizuo envisioned those eyes to be a beautiful shade of crimson, like blood or a rose. Momentarily pausing, Shizuo gave a sympathetic, longing smile, and then continued.
Once Shizuo was finished, he gazed at his drawing. A man gazing at the moon longingly. The man was dressed in an old, ancient suit, and had tears glazing his eyes, as he sat in a graveyard.
Shizuo realized the tears were his own, and he wiped them away with a shaky, shuddering breath, confused as to why he was crying. He ceased his tears, arose from his bed, and placed the picture on the wall, desiring to envelope the man in an embrace, and remain there for a thousand years...