Takumi was a sweet child. One filled with happiness and mirth; not an ounce of anger or hatred in his blood. Yet as he grew older and years passed, it slowly died; little by little everytime Ryoma got praise, Hinoka recieving compliments or even Sakura being scolded at. The forgotten middle child, that was what he was; forever hidden in the looming shadows of his siblings.

When the lost child of his mother came back, he felt numb. Yet another looming shadow to cover his almost nonexistent light. The overwhelming love given to a stranger as her and none saved for family like him; how could he not feel the suffocating jealousy, wrapped around him in a coil? He hated her the moment he saw her. The platinum gray hair and those chilling, scarlet eyes not to mention the Nohrian blood that adopted her; how could he not feel the burning distrust, that engulfed him in a slow fire? The years he labored for even a glimpse from his mother and father, for a moment with his siblings, for a drop of pride that she got without so much as lifting a finger. His heart was gripped with a tornado of emotions and his mind whirled with millions of thoughts. The darkness he tried so hard to smother with light, stalked upon him and attacked with its vicious claws. He fell victim to the monstrous darkness.

Faced with what he so believed to be the fault of everything, the bit of soul he had left made him hesitate for but a moment. A sense of nostalgic longing rang through him, singing a bittersweet melody of what could've been. What if he gave her a chance? What if he had treated her with the kindness she deserved? What if he was strong enough to face and fight in the war that waged in him? What if she chose them? What. If? The melody, now accompanied with an overwhelming orchestra of harmony, surrounded him but not enough to stop his slow, deliberate actions. He pulled the tense string back with ease. The longing turned into acute desperation and he fought back. There was a time where the present could've been different but it has long since passed, swallowed in the murky waves that crashed against the changing tide of the future. Regrets were meaningless as well as longing and with that final thought, the music stopped as if a conductor of a symphony signalled the the abrupt cut and end of the tumultuous piece.

A still silence.

He released his fingers, firing the arrow into a future where he would cease to exist.