Crunch. The sound of feet over frosty earth. The sky was hidden by huge poplar trees, evenly spaced and sinister. Red light cast shapes on the ground.
A muffled sob came, echoing through the trees. Haru turned his head and began to walk towards the sound urgently, breaking in to a run as it faded away. He tripped and fell heavily on the frozen earth, swiping a cut all the way down one leg. Feverishly, he clawed at the unyielding forest floor, searching for a hold. Looking up, Haru felt is heart leap into his mouth.
A tiny girl stood before him, her pale hands shaking in fear. She was not looking at him, but to her left, and her thick hair covered her features to him. It was striped like a zebra: evenly spaced black and white locks reaching past her shoulders. Haru felt huge black tears fall from his eyes as he realised the inevitability of the situation: he would never reach the girl in time. A scream split the air.
When he woke, Haru's hands were clawed tightly into his sheets, his hair heavy with sweat.
He cradled his head in his hands, already forgetting the dream. Only one girl held his thoughts now.
With her. Without her. Life and death. He shook all over for a minute, wondering whether he would ever be able to move. The doorbell forced him to.
The gift was wrapped in black silk. A plain tag hung from the ribbon: "Happy birthday, HatsuHaru". He did not recognise the script. Closing his eyes for a minute to push away the urge to hurl the stupid thing out the window, he opened it up carefully.
A gray guitar lay in the silk. The ends of the strings were uncut and messy. It was such a solid thing, filling up the room – he couldn't ignore it. Gingerly, Haru picked the guitar up and rested it in his arms. He ran his hands over its sleek sides without thinking, finally pulling it closer and testing a sting. The sound from it buzzed all the way through him, electrifying.
He tried a strum, tugging his thumb over all of the open strings. The chord was horrendous. Grinning, he imagined Rin's expression of distaste. Somehow the pain stayed a little way away, as if he was shielded from it. Strange.
Haru spent his birthday crouched in the kitchen, playing until blisters covered his hands.
