Once upon a time, there was a girl with bubblegum pink hair. She was searching for someone. A teammate. She searched high and low in every village, but there was no sign of the raven-haired teenager. Knowing she'd have to leave the world she was used to, she left for Canada. She ended up near the Arctic Circle. The sight was beautiful. There was snow covering every inch of ground and the Northern Lights shone brightly.
A house was coming up on the road ahead. The teenage girl eagerly opened the door, not caring if anyone lived there. What she saw, however, was not what she was expecting. There were red stains everywhere. They littered the what-used-to-be white carpet, the ornate furniture, and even a painting of the Mona Lisa. Her eyes landed on a particular corner of the room. There she saw that all too familiar katana sticking out of her teammate's stomache, smeared in that same red that covered the room.
Tears sprung to her eyes as she ran over and tried to heal him. When she realized he was no longer with the living, she became an exploding vessel of anger. She punched a hole through the wall. Anger. That's all she felt. Angry with herself. If she were only able to stop him all those years ago, none of this would have happened.