Prologue: Pain

He stood completely still by the door, eyes fixated on the scene before him. Just stood there, rooted, when what he really should be doing was walking away. Away so that he would not need to see the confirmation in that violet warmth when their eyes met; so that he could still pretend he did not see what he saw and that what happened had in fact not happened. That it was a dream, a horrible dream that would go away once he woke up in the morning.

Except that he could not.

Twisted by a morbid fascination, he could not bear walking away, could not bear turning away; he needed to see with eyes, needed to know. So he continued to stay, and allowed his whole being to slowly disintegrate into oblivion with the excruciating pain that seared through all of him as he watched. Until he found himself drowning in familiar violet depths. The beauty of that deep violet washed over his gaping wounds, sending him into blinding numbness.

Then Sanada left; he did not look back.