The steps in front of him were steep, but he knew he had to climb them. The linoleum floor beneath his feet squeaked as he took that first step. Falcon was on the move.

The air in the building was cold, so very, very cold. He could see his breath in front of him. Why was it so cold?

One step at a time, he ascended the steep staircase ever so slowly, making sure his tennis shoes would not make a sound on the cold linoleum.

The room at the top of the stairs came into view. It was wide, empty. Until...

As his foot hit the top step, he saw the whole room. He saw his father, looking tired and pale in his long black coat, aiming a gun at him. As Ryunosuke recognized his son, the gun lowered to his side.

"Fuji-" He started to say before his attention was caught by a piece of dark metal in his peripheral vision. With wide eyes, he moved quickly, one step in front of the other. Fujimaru seemed to get further and further away from him with each step. Time seemed to slow down. He couldn't run fast enough, He would not make it in time. The wicked grin remained imprinted in his brain. He knew the intention behind the grin.

Fujimaru didn't know why his father was running towards him. He hadn't seen the person standing against the wall, pointing a gun at him. He hoped his father was running to him to escape together, out of this empty building.

The gunshots reached his ears before he felt his father falling towards him. He saw the tears in his father's long coat, the blood seeping through his clothing.

The room disappeared. The stairs behind him disappeared. The ceiling faded. The walls crumbled to the ground.

There were only two people left in the room, him and his father. His father had been shot. His father was bleeding. His father was dying.

The blood pooled on the ground, creating a crimson puddle on the once white linoleum floor.

The crimson liquid crawled towards him. It reached his pant leg, soaking his blue jeans. They became darker and darker as the liquid enveloped his legs, soaking his skin.

The blood crawled up his arm. It wrapped around his arms, reaching for his neck. The little crimson strings tied around his head, flowing over his eyes. He was covered in blood, a crimson skin that would never come off.

His father's eyes stared at the ceiling that didn't exist. Tears of blood rolled down his face, leaving a bloody trail on his cheeks and a small puddle on his neck. His skin bubbled, small pockets below the surface.

His mouth opened, blood spurting out. In a hoarse voice, the words tumbled from his red lips, "Why did you do this to me?" His eyes focused briefly on his son before rolling backwards into his head.

"Dad!" Fujimaru yelled. "DAD!" He screamed the word over and over again until it made no sense.

The room no longer felt cold. It felt hot. So hot... He felt as though his skin was burning off his body. He closed his eyes as the tears gathered, blurring his vision.

A hand on his arm forced him to open them again, dreading the look on his father's face.

He did not see his father. His father was no longer lying on the floor in front of him. A face was uncomfortably close to his.

Short brown hair hid bright blue eyes. A worried expression was etched on the familiar face.

Fujimaru sat up.

"You alright?" Otoya asked, his hand dropping from Fujimaru's shoulder. "It was just a nightmare. It's not real." He kept his expression serious. His voice was reassuring and soft.

Fujimaru's heart was beating ten times faster than it should have been. Adrenaline was racing through his veins as he sat there, on the floor of Otoya's house. The dream was still vivid in his mind.

"Do you want to talk about it? I am your backup after all." Otoya smiled.

"Nah, this isn't something I want to remember." Fujimaru said, sighing. The guilt of hurting his father remained a pain in his chest. He knew his father didn't blame, unline in the dream, but he blamed himself.

"Come on, you should come eat breakfast., get your mind off things." It was only as Otoya said those words that Fujimaru noticed he was in his archery uniform. Otoya must have heard him and come rushing in. His large bow leaned against the wall to the right of the door.

Otoya stood first, holding his hand out to Fujimaru. A strong, warm hand with a gentle but firm grip pulled him to his feet.

Walking out, he slid the door closed behind him, shutting the nightmare in the room.