Author's Note: So, I've decided to attach the sequel to Smoke and Mirrors, in a logical, and somewhat ill-advised decision. My thirst for 1K is overwhelming, a persistent throbbing in my core that constantly reminds me of how close I am.
I'm really dramatic, aren't I?
Anyway, this story takes place eight months after the events of Smoke and Mirrors. It's very Namiko-centric because Baby Kruger plays a colossal role in this universe, especially since the majority of the sequel will strictly focus on her and Shizuru because of Natsuki's absence and the twins' journey to adulthood.
Though the Shiznat may start of practically non-existent, it will continue to develop as the story progresses. As for other couples such as Regan/Saeko, Nina/Nao, Reito/Tate, Keira/? and Kaiya/OFC, will make an appearance and will have significant roles in this story's plot and in Namiko's life.
There are various time skips up until Namiko turns sixteen, and then the story will continue to fall in place during present time.
The prequel, however, will be an entirely separate project, and will be practically pulsating with everything Shiznat. I will try to update both stories at least once a week. Many questions will be answered in both the prequel and the sequel.
Pairings: Shizuru/Natsuki, Regan/Saeko, Nina/Nao, Reito/Tate, Kaiya/OFC, Keira/? Miyu/Alyssa (possibly).
Rating: M, rating may go up.
Disclaimer: If this series was mine, it would be a continuous, ongoing project, with episodes that exceed even that of Naruto and One Piece combined.
Crooklyn
"Before you were conceived, I wanted you. Before you were born, I loved you. Before you were here an hour, I knew I would do anything for you. Shall you take your last breath before I, I shall know that I have failed."
"Daughters,"-Anonymous.
11 months-old.
She doesn't like to be away from her.
She doesn't not feel safe in any embrace other than hers. Her fists feel empty without the usual occupancy of soft, golden hair. She crinkles her nose at the scent of this strange man, craning her tiny face away from his insistent hands.
There she is.
She peers over the gentle slope of the strange man's shoulder, her innocent, cinereal eyes transfixed on her, captivated by her presence. She knows every contour, every diminutive detail of her face, she has committed it to memory, it is engraved in her apperception.
She begins to grow anxious as the strange man moves further and further away from her. He sets her on top of a cold, silver metal table and smiles at her in what he thinks is a reassuring gesture. It has no effect on the distraught child whatsoever.
Namiko is too young to form coherent words, but she is able to communicate with her hands and sounds, and she gestures at the woman sitting in the corner of the room. The strange man pauses in his ministrations to glance behind him, but he does not heed her request.
Namiko wants to cry for multiple reasons.
The first being that, she feels inexplicably hot, and she has a difficult time trying to convey her discomfort with her limited ability to communicate. Her cheeks are flushed and her left ear aches terribly. It sends thick rivulets of pain circulating through her skull.
The second reason is that she absolutely hates the way this strange man's leathery fingers feel against her flushed skin. A desperate whine forms in the back of her sore, pulsating throat, and tears form in her leaden eyes.
The ache in her ear intensifies slightly, and she tugs at it with a sharp cry of discomfort. The strange man pries open her jaw and lays a cold metal contraption on its surface. She does not like it at all, and it shows in her fidgeting.
He sticks another device in the ear that was not hurting, and frowns when abnormal numbers stare back at him. He looks to the object of her affection and barks something she can not quite understand.
"It looks like an ear-infection." He states as he gently returns the fussing child to her mother. Namiko, despite the overall discomfort she feels, is overjoyed. She turns her head away from the strange man and burrows her face into her her bosom.
"She's normally such a quiet child." Her mother's words are foreign to her, but she basks in the familiarity of her lovely, accented tones. "But lately, she's been constantly crying and pulling at her ear. Neither of us have slept very well during the last few days."
"I see." He replies and scribbles something down on his chart. "I can prescribe some antibiotics. They should clear out the infection in a few days. If her appetite doesn't get better within the next week or so, let me know."
Her mother's relief is apparent. She cradles her child to her chest and affectionately brushes her lips across Namiko's dark brows. She rises from her chair slowly and reaches for the cane that is leaning hazardously on the wall behind her.
It is no ordinary cane, however. It has been constructed and styled specifically for her, for a queen, a gift from her wife. It is solid gold, encrusted with rubies and diamonds and emeralds, and is probably worth more than the finest jewelry.
An intricate carving of a fierce cobra is engraved along the length of the cane, and twin diamonds that represent its eyes glitter beneath the palm of her hand.
Her hip has gotten stronger in the last few months, but it still burdens her with its constant aches. However, she has mastered the ability to carry her child and handle a disability. Namiko rests her head on her mother's shoulder as her and the strange man's foreign tones continue to caress her sensitive lobes.
Leaden eyes fall shut, lulled to sleep by her mother's heartbeat.
"She is, in every sense, a part of you. Created by sin, she grew within the depths of your core, drifting, anchored by only the wavelength of your soul."
"How is she?"
The next time she opens her eyes, she's back in a familiar place that is blooming with familiar scents and familiar sights and sounds. She's giddy with happiness when she's gently draped over a familiar chest.
Dark hair clouds her vision and invades her mouth and nose and she giggles, swiping the obsidian locks of hair away from her face with a tiny fist. The voice, although heavier and lacking her mother's delicate Kyoto-ben, is a welcome one.
This body is not as soft as her mother's and it does not smell the same, but it provides all of the safety, affection, and security she craves. A loving kiss is pressed against her burning temple and she stares deep into familiar viridian depths.
"It's an ear-infection. He prescribed some antibiotics and he says she should feel better in a couple of days." Shizuru says softly, tracing a gentle path down Namiko's flushed cheeks with the skin of her knuckle.
Her mom's chest inflates and deflates in a display of relief. "You scared us a bit, Little Warrior."
Namiko doesn't give a verbal reply, though Natsuki wasn't expecting it, but she does flash her mom a big, dimpled grin.
"It's like you understand everything we say," Natsuki muses, rubbing their noses together, "Tell me, Little Warrior, are you secretly a genius who only pretends to be a helpless child?"
"Natsuki." Shizuru says with a delighted giggle as she settles between her beloved's legs. "She's only eleven months old."
"I was only nine months when I decided to make my mother's life harder than necessary." Natsuki replies with a small chortle.
Shizuru simply smiles and leans against her wife's chest, her cheek resting gently on the small of the child's back. She can hear laughter emitting from the kitchen, squeals of protest and annoyance alike.
Her daughters and their parents are playing poker in the kitchen along with Reito and Tate, and already accusations of cheating are directed towards Reagan. Alyssa, during these last few months, has formed an unlikely bond with Miyu, and the pair's current location is unknown.
John has returned to Japan in an effort to speed up the rebuilding of Tokyo. Natsuki has only just recently returned to New York from her duty as lord of the yakuza. She has been gone often, but the family has learned to enjoy her time with them while it lasts instead of sulking over their time apart.
"How soon do you have to be back?" Shizuru voice is quiet and tinged with sadness.
"Tomorrow."
She sighs softly as she clutches her beloved's hand in her own and brings it to her lips for a swift, affectionate kiss. She knows that Natsuki is doing everything in her power to be there for her family and for her organization simultaneously, and she is not angry with her, but after so many years of being practically glued at the hip, to be separated so suddenly is extremely hard.
It isn't just hard on Shizuru either.
Keira and Kaiya are growing seemingly faster than the speed of light. In a year or so they will be graduating high-school and investing themselves in the life-after. Keira has already begun her practices of medicine, intent on becoming a doctor.
Kaiya is rarely ever home nowadays, though safe under Miyu's constant surveillance, she is a boundless, energetic ball of life who spends most of her time travelling with her misfit band of dancers, performing at school pep-rallies, dances, and on the busy subways.
Regan and Saeko have mentioned a potential scheme to get married, but time has not been on their side, it is only speculation. Nina and Nao, true to their word, have already settled down to start a family that began with the adoption of an orphaned little Japanese girl named Himiko, who lost her parents in the war.
"I'll be back in time for her birthday." Natsuki promises with a dazzling smile. "I wouldn't miss it for the world."
"It is so hard to believe, that one year ago today, you were this tiny, helpless little human being who couldn't even defend herself from the cold night air. Now you're already standing and feeding yourself."
1 years-old.
"Happy birthday, Baby Kruger!"
'Baby Kruger' has become the child's official title and she is rarely addressed by her given name by all except her mother, who refuses to entertain the notion. It's Namiko's first birthday and the apartment is alive with festivities and familiar faces.
Midori's already drunk, singing Unravel at the top of her lungs, much to her girlfriend's displeasure. Reagan's trying desperately to persuade Saeko to participate in a round of beer pong, but the woman simply shakes her head each time.
Nao has Tate in a very professional full-nelson, though the reason behind it is uncertain, and Nina is glaring at her, unimpressed with little Himiko hiding behind her leg. Alyssa has returned, bearing gifts from her and her father, who couldn't make the trip due to a scheduling conflict.
The twins sit side by side on the massive sofa, entertaining their baby sister with various games and pictures on their phones. Natsuki hasn't arrived yet, but she had been in route when Shizuru had spoken to her only hours before.
Reagan eventually abandons the game, much to Reito's annoyance, and trots up the stairs. She returns moments later with a small box clutched in her slender hands. She hands Shizuru the gift with a sheepish, dimpled smile.
Everyone begins to crowd around the honey-haired woman and the small child. Shizuru pulls the girl onto her lap as well as the gift. She smiles gratefully at her father-in-law and begins to unwrap the box, letting the pieces of blue paper flutter to the ground.
It's a shirt. A small blue shirt with a phrase written in barbaric white letters across the torso. "It's a little late, but the effect is still there, hopefully." Reagan says.
"Just did nine months…" Shizuru reads aloud, her eyes twinkling with amusement.
Boisterous laughter emits from each and every individual crowded around the birthday girl and her mother. Namiko does not understand why everyone was laughing, but she does so because she is sincerely amused by their reactions.
She claps her hands together and nearly topples over from the force of her giggles. Shizuru's heart melts at such a display of innocence and she engraves the image of her daughter's enormous eyes and beautiful smile into her subconscious.
"I'm surprised that she didn't get her a toy gun or something." Kaiya says as her grandfather returns to sit on the arm of the couch. There's a rumble of agreement amongst the crowd, and Reagan bows her head, discreetly pushing her second gift underneath the couch with a petulant sigh.
More gifts are presented by each and every individual gathered in the living room. Namiko is showered with clothes, shoes, toys, and jewlery, and the occasional loving kiss from her mother and her grandmother.
Shizuru is smiling on the outside, but on the inside her heart aches for the sire of her children.
An hour passes before she stumbles through the door, snowflakes caught in her hair, and her cheeks flushed from the cold. She's clutching a small stuffed toy in her hand that catches the attention of nearly every individual in the room.
As usual, there are long overdue hugs and kisses. Natsuki immediately crosses the room and pulls her in for a deep, sensual kiss that makes her toes curl and her heart pound behind the confines of her ribcage.
"What the hell is that?" Nao demands, pointing to the toy in her old friend's grasp. Natsuki flashes her a sheepish grin as she whispers 'happy birthday' to her baby girl.
"Whatever it is, it's ugly as fuck." Her father said. Her mother roughly elbows her in her ribs in response for her foul-language.
Natsuki pouts as she gives the toy to her baby girl. Its overall design was that of a dark grey wolf with massive paws, elongated teeth and class, and golden serpentine eyes. However, instead of the customary fluffy wolf's tail, the appendage was constructed of black snakes.
"It's a wolf-snake," Natsuki says, defending her gift as she wraps her arms around her wife's shoulders. "I couldn't decide which to get; a wolf or a snake, so I had them make this one especially for her."
The toy is hideous to most, but Namiko is not deferred by odd design. She clutches the toy in her tiny hands and squeezes it lovingly. Natsuki smiles as she leans back and listens to everything she's missed in the last few weeks.
"Children have a hole in their soul in the shape of their father. If the father is unwilling or unable to fill that hole, it can leave a wound that is not easily healed."
Five years-old.
"Namiko!"
Her mother's voice calls to her from the kitchen, but her leaden eyes do not avert from the window. She stands on the couch, her wolf-snake, Kiran, clutched tightly in her hands as she remains gazing out of the window, watching, waiting.
"Namiko?"
She does not answer. She can hear her mother's calls, but she's afraid that if she looks away, she'll miss her arrival. She has not seen her father in months, and though she calls every night, it is not the same as being wrapped in her arms, squirming under the force of her kisses.
It is just her and her mother now. Keira and Kaiya have graduated high-school, and are fully invested in their college lives. Keira, having inherited her mother's brilliance, is thundering her way through Columbia University, her dreams of being a doctor so very close.
Kaiya has been accepted to NYADA, one of the most prestigious Performing Arts schools in the country. She has always been a phenomenal performer, but with her newfound singing abilities, she has become quite the package in the world of art.
Regan and Saeko, though they enjoyed America, they decided to return to Japan to settle down and spend their final years together. They visit most holidays.
She hears her mother's heels cracking on the marble floor as she exits the kitchen. Dinner was ready, she assumes, and it smells divine. "Namiko?" Her mother's voice is tinged with worry.
Grey eyes slowly blink beneath the mass of dark curls surrounding them, and she slowly turns away from the window to stare at her mother. Her eyes carefully assess her mother's face and her state of dress out of habit, with intelligence far beyond her years.
Her mother always dolls herself up for her father's return. Father, she calls her, because she felt that it was appropriate. Natsuki herself hadn't minded at all, especially when her first word had been 'dada' rather than 'mama.'
Her beauty is graceful and ageless, her features still retained their delicacy and softness from her youth. "Did you not hear me calling you, Namiko?"
"Yes, mother." The child whispers as she hugs Kiran to her chest and slumps down against the couch with shimmering eyes.
Shizuru's features soften as she crosses the room quickly with the assistance of her cane, and runs her fingers through Namiko's long dark, curly hair. She admires the fullness of her daughter's lips, the length of her full, dark lashes, and she knows that one day, Namiko will posses beauty that will have rivalled hers and her father's even in their youth.
"Dinner is ready."
"I know. I want to wait for father." Namiko replies softly, her eyes returning to the window once more. The moonlight matches the color of her sad, dark eyes, tears glittering on the edges of her eyelids.
Shizuru smiles sadly, fighting back her own tears of despair. "I know you do, Little Warrior, but it is getting late and you must eat. You have school in the morning."
"Can't I stay with you, mother?" Namiko pleads, crawling into her mother's lap.
Shizuru frowns. This has been a common occurrence lately, Namiko wishing to stay home from school. "Why do you wish to stay?"
"Because no one likes me. They think I'm weird." Namiko says, and her mother's heart explodes into smithereens at the confession.
"Why do you think that?" Shizuru asks gently.
"I don't think, I know." Her daughter responds. "The think I'm a…" Her face scrunches up as she tries to recall the term they had so savagely bestowed upon her. "A fweak, because I'm a girl and I pee standing up."
Shizuru quickly pulls the child against her chest so that she doesn't see her own tears. She desperately wishes that Natsuki could be there for Namiko at such a confusing time in her life. Only she and her grandfather would truly be able to understand the things she would be forced to endure.
"You are not a freak, my love." Her mother whispers. "You are beautiful and unique, just like your father and grandfather. They just don't understand. To them, being different is bad, but one day you shall see how amazing and beautiful you truly are."
Namiko wipes her tears with her wrist and peers up at her mother, frowning when she sees that she is also weeping. "Mother?" she calls.
"Yes, my love?"
Namiko lays her head back against her mother's collarbone, bringing Kiran up to her face and nuzzling it against her cheek.
"You'll always love me, right?"
Shizuru bites her lip as she stares at the empty house, listens to the eerie silence. There's no loud music playing from Kaiya's room, no textbooks left on the floor from Keira's studies. Natsuki's football that she loves to toss up and down rests uselessly on the floor beneath the television.
"Until my very last breath."
"You said that we'd be forever, how could you tell me a lie to my face? Now that we can't be together, there's just no hope for a final embrace."
Ten years-old.
Kaiya's getting married.
Her mother dresses her in a beautiful red dress that matches the colors of her own dress and the theme of the wedding. A rose is braided into her dark locks, as red as the blood pumping through her veins.
Her grandparents have flown from Japan for the wedding. Keira has found time from her hectic life as a doctor to be there for her twin's special day. She sits with her grandparents in the lovely hall of the grand chapel, along with the Zhang family, Alyssa and Miyu, Reito and Tate, and Kaiya's group of rowdy friends and their families.
Natsuki is actually here. She would have never missed her own child's wedding, even if Japan were to go up in flames once more.
She waits near the entrance for the bride, dressed in a dark obsidian button up with a bowtie as red as her lipstick around her neck. Her pants are the same matte hue as her top, and look as if they are painted on. Blood red heels complete her outfit as well as a light dusting of makeup.
Namiko is the ring bearer. She likes the way the little rock glimmers when it catches light. Everyone stands at attention, cooing at her as she walks down the aisle after Himiko, who throws roses and petals onto the carpet.
She locks eyes with her sister's fiance, Alex Santos, a beautiful basketball player who currently played for the New York Liberty. They had met during their college years. Alex was the star forward of Syracuse, and Kaiya had been a volunteer cheerleader.
They had begun dating shortly after that, and now, the middle Kruger is about to get married. Namiko's youthful eyes promise danger if Alex was ever to hurt her sister, and the woman simply nods her head, a soft smile forming on her full lips.
Natsuki walks Kaiya down the aisle. Her sister looks absolutely stunning in her royal white dress. Her smile is breathtaking, the light in her eyes outshining even the rays of the sun. When Kaiya walks onto the stand and takes Alex's hands, Namiko listens carefully for her cue.
"Please present the rings." The priest, who happens to be Midori, says, and Namiko hold up the intricate pillow while the ring bearer from Alex's side of the family does the same. Kaiya leans down and pecks her baby sister on the cheek before she takes the ring.
As the customary vows are said, Saeko roughly stomps on Regan's foot to awaken the sleeping woman. She jumps, offering her beloved a sheepish grin, which Saeko ignored and returns her attention to the wedding, her eyes sparkling with adoration.
Namiko suddenly finds herself in her father's arms. Natsuki kisses her head and strides over to the open seat between her mother and her eldest sister. She enjoys it while it lasts. She knows Natsuki will not be here forever.
She peers over Natsuki's shoulder, tuning out Midori's animated preaching. A sudden flash of white catches her eye and she cranes her neck to get a better view. Everyone's attention is directed towards the front of the room, so no one notices the strange man lingering in the shadows.
His hair and skin as as white as the suit he wears, and his eyes are such a pale blue, they look transparent in the dim lightning. He locks eyes with her, and he smiles, his handsome features warm and pleasant.
"I do."
Namiko's head quickly turns back towards her sister as she hears the tearful declaration. Kaiya slides the ring onto the gorgeous woman's finger.
"You may now kiss the bride." Midori shouts.
"With tongue!" Regan whisper-yells.
"Yes, with tongue." Midori agrees.
There's an explosive cheering amongst the audience as Kaiya's swept off of her feet and into the arms of her new wife. Shizuru, Natsuki, and Natsuki are amongst the loudest. Namiko's eyes slowly drift back to the place where the mysterious man had been, but he was gone.
And in the spot, laying on the floor where he once stood, was a pale white rose.
Namiko thinks nothing of it, and desperately clings to Natsuki's suit, as if holding on would prevent her from leaving.
"Anger is only one letter short of danger."
Shizuru Viola-Kruger struts through the empty halls of Brooklyn High, her normally passive features twisted into an expression of worry and anxiety. Her heels click against the the marble floor, her cane sparkling under the bright lights.
She shakes her head solemnly, she's been here far too many times in the past month. She enters the dean's office, smiling at the receptionist she has come to know quite well during the these last few months.
"Miss Viola-Kruger," Kim, the receptionist greets with a warm smile.
Shizuru dips her head in response, returning the smile, though it does not quite reach her eyes. "I came as soon as I could."
Kim shuffles a few papers and gestures towards the door behind her desk. The gold encrusted name plate glitters ominously. "I only saw part of it, but it didn't look good."
Shizuru's heart momentarily sinks as she veers around Kim's desk and knocks on the door. "Come in." A grave voice says.
Shizuru pushes the brown door open and immediately looks around the room for her daughter's face. There is a rather menacing-looking individual sitting on the far left side of the room, her face littered with piercings, and her arms covered in tattoos.
She's sporting a split lip, a gashed eyebrow, and multiple cuts and bruises. Her shirt is almost completely torn off of her body, revealing a faded band-tee beneath. She's glaring maliciously at the girl across the room.
Namiko is slouching so far in her seat, her head is nearly resting in the place her rear is supposed to be. Her daughter's dark hair is wild, framing her gorgeous, battle-scarred features. The only visible wound Shizuru can see is the cut on her cheek.
The dean beckons Shizuru over with a brief flick of her wrist. "Miss Viola-Kruger, this is the fourth fight this month that your daughter has been involved in."
"This bitch started it." Namiko says, her husky voice is laced with irritation.
The girl sneers. "Fucking bitch, I should've fucking shanked your ass."
Namiko sits up correctly in her seat, her dark eyes alight with fury. "Is that a fucking threat?"
The girl rises and crosses the room in three quick strides. Namiko bristles, rising from her seat as well and meeting the girl halfway. "It's a fucking promise, freak."
"Girls!" The dean hisses, bolting from her seat to separate the two before things got messy. Shizuru pushes against Namiko's chest, forcing the enraged young woman a few paces back, and latches onto her arm in case the girl's temper got the best of her.
"Miss Montoya, sit down! You too, Miss Kruger!" The dean barks, and Shizuru guides her daughter back into the seat and soothingly rubs circles into her muscled back. Namiko is pulsating with anger, her toned arms flexing, fingers coiling dangerously.
"This has gone on long enough!" The dean snaps, roughly pulling out a file of papers and slamming them onto her desk. "I have no choice but to suspend both of you!"
Instantly, there are shouts of protest.
"You can't do that!" The other girl roars, "Playoffs are this week!"
Namiko looks disgusted at the notion of agreeing with the girl, but she nods in agreement. "They'll never get anywhere without us!"
"Then you should've thought about that before you decided to have a brawl in my cafeteria." The dean replies through gritted teeth.
Shizuru knows that a suspension is inevitable, and does not propose any argument. "Namiko."
Namiko snatches her arm away from her mother and clenches her fists. She takes a couple of deep breaths, trying to regulate her breathing. "Fine."
"Three days." The dean decides, rising from her seat to glare at the two girls. "You two better start acting like the teammates you are when you come back, or so help me, I'll make sure you never see a goddamn football field again in your lives! Do I make myself clear?"
There's a hard nod from each of the teenage girls. Namiko's opponent shoots her one more ferocious glare before she returns to her seat and pinches the bridge of her nose as she waits for a guardian to come and fetch her.
Shizuru briefly thanks the dean and leads her out of the office, waving goodbye to Kim as they exit. They walk in tense silence all the way to Shizuru's Maserati. The crimson-eyed woman studies her daughter out of corner of her eye.
Namiko has grown into a stunning young woman. She has surpassed her in height, towering nearly three heads over her. Her dark hoodie clings to her torso, showing of the lean muscle of her biceps and arms, and her tightness of her jeans are accentuated by the muscle of her legs.
Her dark grey eyes are framed by thick, long lashes and even darker brows. Her nose, small and perfect, her lips, supple and full, and her cheeks creased from the indentions of her dimples. She kept her hair medium-length, and it always looked as if it was tousled by sex.
A few stray beauty marks were scattered across her face, the only flaw is a narrow scar that slashed across her perfect lips, the result of her continuous scuffles. Shizuru unlocks the door and Namiko throws her bag into the back seat before sliding into the passenger's.
They ride home in silence once more. Namiko doesn't look at her mother, her eyes are still dark with anger. Shizuru doesn't miss the way she wraps her left arm around her torso, how her brow furrows under the pressure.
She reaches out and presses against her daughter's arm, and her suspicions are confirmed when Namiko hisses in pain.
"Namiko, let me see your ribs." Shizuru says when they reach their home. Namiko glares at her.
"I'm fine."
"Namiko, I wasn't asking." Shizuru replies quietly as she leads her daughter into her bedroom and crosses her arms expectantly under her breasts. A staredown ensures, granite versus crimson, a bull and a snake.
In the end, it is Namiko who gives in, unable to withstand the ferocity of her mother's glare. She tugs her hoodie over her head, groaning at the pressure on her ribcage. Her mother's hand instantly moves to her chest.
There's a slight purplish bruise just below her left breast, and Shizuru frowns at the discoloration.
"I'm fine, mom, really." The teenager says, her husky voice softening to a gentle whisper. "Just a scratch."
Shizuru shakes her head. "You sound just like your father."
Namiko turns away at the mention of Natsuki, and slips back into her hoodie, her expression unreadable. "Don't." She warns and makes a move to leave.
"Namiko." Her mother calls softly.
Namiko pauses.
"Happy birthday."
16 Years-old.
"You're the one they left behind. Alone inside your mind, listening to your thoughts, you never gave up, fought on well, hoping to die, nothing left to prove that you are still alive."
It has begun.
