Chapter 2: Echo

I thought it was destiny

I was gonna conquer the sky

Then plummet to the ground and be

Anchored by your side

But when every time I found myself upon new heights

I would climb again

And leave you in the moonlight

Yamcha's mind ran a million miles an hour as he drove down the highway, the first ray of dawn just barely beginning to light up the darkened sky. This whole thing was just crazy, his mind struggling to comprehend it.

He didn't have a lot of memories. What little pieces he had of his childhood were mostly blurry. The first clear memory he actually had was celebrating his eleventh birthday at the children's mental hospital in Orange Star City. He didn't remember a lot of things about the hospital, but he had heard the workers there mention 'repressed memories' around him several times. At first, it had bothered him. Why couldn't he remember anything? What was so bad that his mind had blocked out the majority of his childhood?

Did it have something to do with his parents? Yamcha remembered their names—Chawan and Fukusa. He remembered his father's brown hair and dark eyes, and his mother's reddish-orange hair and warm green eyes. He had a few blurry memories of them, and each of them were happy ones. Heck, he even remembered his grandmother, Ochako, his father's mother and the woman who Yamcha had inherited his black hair from. What little memories he had of her were happy ones as well.

But then why couldn't he remember his sister or friend very well? Yamcha wracked his brain for something—anything—that he remembered about Sencha. He felt like she was his younger sister, but how much younger, he had no idea. And…did she have green eyes? Yamcha resisted the urge to bang his head against the steering wheel. What kind of brother was he, forgetting his own sister?

And then there was Tenshi. She was older than him, he knew that, but he didn't know how much older, and honestly couldn't gather any other information about her. What did she even look like, again? Weren't her eyes…blue?

During his time at the children's mental hospital, Yamcha hadn't been able to recollect anything about his life before living at the hospital. As time went on, he began to suspect the worse. Were his friends and family dead? Had something terrible happened to them? Every attempt he made to think back had been fruitless. At the time, and even now, the only things he could remember were his parents and grandmother. And until he had read that letter, he hadn't even remembered his sister, his friend, or even the town he had grown up in. A part of him had been worried that he would be stuck in the hospital for the rest of his life, and being the dumb kid that he was, he found a way to escape and ran off, soon finding himself living the life of a desert bandit.

In his mind, his past was literally dead. He had no family or friends to speak of, and had very little memories of his life before, so to him, it made sense to live this new lifestyle and take care of himself, something he had continued until the day he met Goku, Bulma and Oolong at age sixteen.

But to hear that Sencha and Tenshi were not only alive, but wanted to meet up with him in Kioku Town…

Yamcha saw that his exit was coming up and pulled into it, now finding himself driving down an old, worn-out road. It made sense. If he recalled correctly, Kioku Town was a sleepy little town in the midst of nowhere, out of sight with the major cities and town.

Several more minutes passed, him driving down the worn road until…

Yamcha frowned as he pressed his foot against the brakes, gradually slowing down the hover car until it came to complete stop. "What the…?" he said under his breath, perplexed as he turned the car off and stepped out. He capsulized it and placed it back in his pocket as he slowly walked forward. He was at the entrance to Kioku Town, he could tell based on the large sign that stood to the right of the road. It was quite old, with the green and yellow paint on it looking faded and parts of it being chipped away, but it still proudly displayed the words 'Welcome to Kioku Town'. But…

A thick, heavy fog blanketed the town. Yamcha narrowed his eyes as he walked closer, just barely beginning to see the outlines of buildings in the distance, confusion bubbling within him. He looked up, and that confusion only intensified as he saw that the sky, which had been a warm shade of pink and orange only a few minutes before, was now gray and bleak, not a hint of sunlight to be seen.

An icy wind suddenly hit him, making him shiver and he wrapped his arms around himself, and that's when he finally noticed that he could see his breath whenever he exhaled. Okay, now he was just baffled. Why was it so cold all of a sudden? It was the middle of summer, for crying out loud! He was suddenly glad that he had decided to wear long clothing.

Movement in the distance caught his attention, making him look down to see the silhouette of a person standing in the distance. Yamcha blinked at the sight and found himself walking towards the silhouette. "Hello?" he called out, only to be met with silence; if the figure heard him, they didn't show it. He couldn't make out their appearance very well, but he could tell that they were an adult, possibly a woman, and he could vaguely see the long brown hair that covered the top of their head, before they suddenly turned and ran away from him, completely vanishing into the fog.

Yamcha's surprise at the sudden action made him stop in his tracks, but he quickly regained himself and ran after the person. "Hey, wait!" He called out, running down the street and passing by the buildings as he tried to at least get a glimpse of the silhouette again, but he couldn't find them. It was as if they had disappeared altogether.

A minute of fruitless chasing resumed before Yamcha slowed himself down to a stop, sighing heavily. As soon as he did, he felt something cold and wet touch his cheek, making him blink and rub his cheek to try and see what it was, but he got his answer when he looked back up and was greeted with the sight of small, white specks floating down towards him in the air. Snow?

Yamcha groaned as he rubbed his head with one hand. Just what was going on with this town? Then he shook his head, remembering exactly why he was here. He could figure out what made this town so peculiar later. He focused for a moment, trying to pick up that person's—or really anyone's—chi…and frowned when we felt nothing. There's wasn't a single sign of life in this town, or anywhere nearby.

But…Sencha and Tenshi had said they would be here. So why couldn't he sense anything? Did they learn how to suppress their chi like the other Z-Fighters had? It wasn't impossible to believe that there were others who could learn to manipulate chi, based on Yamcha's experiences with past enemies. But even so, it didn't make sense. Sencha and Tenshi had said that they wanted to see him here, so what reason would they have for hiding from him?

As he allowed his thoughts to wonder, Yamcha looked around for the first time, beginning to notice details about his surroundings. Several buildings surrounded him, all of them looking quite old and abandoned, the paint looking faded and chipped, nearly all of the windows and doors were boarded up, and rust and dirt coated the structures. Yamcha couldn't help but frown. What had happened to this town? How long had it been abandoned, and why?

Wait a minute…A sudden realization struck him like an angry bolt of lightning, the nostalgia practically punching Yamcha in the gut. "I know this street," he whispered to himself, starting to walk forward again. This was the street where—

Yamcha looked up and to his right, and sure enough, a small schoolhouse came into view. The red paint was faded and dull, with the roof looking like it was on the verge of caving in. The bell atop the building was almost completely rusted over and looked like it would never ring again. The windows were all boarded up, with some of the glass being broken. The door was closed, but the rotting wood looked as if it were about to collapse at any given second. Right next to the schoolhouse was a fenced-in playground, one with a slide, swing set, a roundabout, and a seesaw. The grass below it was surprisingly green, while everything in the playground was rusted up and even had vines and plants growing on them, making it clear that none of them had been used in a long time.

Yamcha could only focus on the schoolhouse at the moment, nostalgia continuing to flood through him. This was his old school.

Without even thinking, he walked up to the door of the schoolhouse and placed his hand on the doorknob, finding that it was unlocked. He pushed the door open with a loud, rusty creak and stepped inside. It was still a bit cool indoors, but certainly a welcome change from the freezing temperatures outside. The building was dimly lit, with the only light source coming from the opening in the boarded-up windows and the open door.

Yamcha looked around the room as he did so. The entire classroom was old and filthy like everything he had seen outside, a layer of dust covering pretty much every surface. There was a large chalkboard at the front of the class, with the teacher's desk in front of it. Several desks lined the room, where the students would spend a good portion of their days learning.

The ex-bandit scanned the entire room. Minus the decay, it was exactly as he remembered it.

Colors and images suddenly swam in his vision, making him blink in surprise. The classroom was suddenly well-lit and clean, the color returning and easily overpowering the dullness from moments before. A ghostly image of an older woman was at the chalkboard, having written some math problems on it and was trying to give a lesson on them. All around him, the ghostly images of students sat at the desks, writing away in their notebooks as the teacher continued to talk, though to Yamcha her voice was faded and distance, almost as if she were underwater.

Then realization replaced his confusion. Was this…a memory?

No sooner had the thought entered his mind than he saw the image of a little boy sitting at one of the desks. Yamcha's eyes widened and he walked up to the side of the desk. The little boy couldn't have been any older than five or six. He had sun-kissed tan skin, choppy black hair that reached his shoulders, onyx-black eyes that stared in boredom at his notebook, and he was dressed in a white shirt, blue jeans and black and white sneakers.

Yamcha could only stare in shock. This was his younger self.

A quiet 'psst' grabbed Yamcha's attention, as well as his younger self, and both of them turned to the source. At the desk right next to his younger self was the image of a little girl, who looked to be the same age as him. She possessed fair skin, chestnut-brown hair that was tied into a shoulder-length ponytail with bangs swept to the right, deep green eyes that were narrowed into a glare at the boy, and she was wearing a pale red dress with white boots and a white ribbon keeping her hair up.

Sencha.

Yamcha's dark eyes widened. It was Sencha, his sister. Now he remembered. They were twins, with Yamcha being older by ten minutes, if he recalled correctly. He couldn't believe it...

As soon as the images of Sencha and the younger Yamcha made eye contact, Sencha wordlessly nodded her head towards the chalkboard, where the teacher continued with her lessons. The younger Yamcha looked up, his face couldn't decide if it should turn red or pale, and it was that moment that Yamcha realized that his younger self's notebook was filled with children's doodles instead of the notes and math problems.

Yamcha chuckled as he watched his younger self flip to a clean page and hastily write down what was on the board. Sencha, for her part, looked satisfied as she returned her attention to her own work. The images started to fade away, giving way to the previous dullness and decay.

Yamcha smiled warmly at the memory. Bits of his memories were started to come back to him. He and Sencha had done everything together, always playing and having fun, though when it came to schoolwork, Sencha had been the one to keep her brother in line whenever his mind wandered or he drew in his notebook instead of doing the lessons.

How could he have forgotten all of this? What exactly happened that made him block out his childhood, even the happy parts?

A sudden sound hit Yamcha's ears, knocking him out of his thoughts and making him turn back to the open door. A siren was going off in the distance. What the…?

As the noise rang through the air, a spike of sharp pain suddenly erupted in his head. Yamcha shut his eyes tightly and placed both hands to his head, trying to will away the pain as the siren continued to go off. It continued for several seconds, and as the siren started to fade away, so did the pain. Yamcha finally reopened his eyes, but was greeted with darkness all around him.

"What…How did…?" Yamcha started to ask, but his questions were cut short as a putrid, rotting stretch hit him. Yamcha nearly gagged as he covered his mouth and nose with one hand. Where the hell had that odor come from? The air smelled fine just a second ago.

Yamcha rose his free hand and formed a bit of chi in his palm, creating his own light source so he could see around in the dark…and immediately wished that he hadn't.

The walls, which simply had the paint faded and chipped away just moments before, were now caked with dried blood and grime. Sections of the now-rotting floor looked like they had been ripped away, revealing a heavily-rusted metal platform underneath. But that's not what disturbed him.

Rotting human remains were strewn about the classroom. Entrails laid across the floor, severed arms on the desks looking as if they were reaching for something, and patches of dead skin hung from the ceiling, as if they were some kind of sick, twisted party decorations.

Yamcha had to hold himself back from hurling his guts up at the sight. What the hell was going on? What was all of this?! Where did it come from?!

…Did that siren have anything to do with this?

Yamcha turned to the nearest window, able to see the outside thanks to the openings between the boards. The foggy world was now pitch-black, and would've been damn near impossible to see had it not been for his chi light source. And the outside world was no better than the inside of the schoolhouse. From what he could see, the grass was now dead, the vines and plants that had grown around the playground were now black and void of any life, while the playground equipment was now bloodstained and grime-covered, just like the schoolhouse walls had been.

Movement caught Yamcha's eye, and he looked up through the window to see a silhouette in the playground, but couldn't make our who or what it was before it walked into the black fog, disappearing from Yamcha's sight. Yamcha felt hope begin to rise in his chest. There was someone else here. If he wasn't so disturbed and confused right now, he would've reached out with his chi sense to make sure. But right now, all his mind could focus on was that there was someone else in this damned town.

Yamcha turned away from the window and rushed to the open door, exiting the schoolhouse and heading back outside into the darkness. Based on what he could see, the nearby buildings looked as if they had rapidly decayed since he walked into the schoolhouse, looking as if they were more than ready to collapse in on themselves.

Without missing a beat, Yamcha headed over to the playground area and hopped over the fence with ease, landing on the other side gracefully. He looked around, trying to see the silhouette again. As soon as he did, though, a noise hit his ears. It wasn't the siren again. The noise was soft and sounded like…like a music box was playing.

A feeling of unease gripped at Yamcha's gut, the memory of his most recent nightmare resurfacing in his mind. He quickly pushed it back down, choosing instead to start looking for the silhouette again, but as he did, curiosity began to make itself known. Where was that music box sound coming from?

As if to answer his question, Yamcha spotted something on the ground right next to the swing set. He walked over to it, realizing that it was some kind of messenger bag. To his surprise, it wasn't filthy or bloodstained like the everything else around him. In fact, even though it looked quite old and faded, it was clean and free of any grime. And the sound was coming from the bag.

Yamcha crouched down and opened up the messenger bag, and sure enough, his suspicions were confirmed. Inside the bag were three items: a flashlight, a folded-up piece of paper, and a small music box, one big enough to pit in the palm of his hand, that was blue with golden accents, and was playing its song. Yamcha frowned at the music box. He felt like he had seen it before, but he couldn't pinpoint where…

The music box slowly increased in volume, confusing him for a moment. And at that moment, movement caught his eye again. Yamcha looked up, and saw that the silhouette was standing several feet away from him, just past the roundabout. Without even thinking, Yamcha abandoned the messenger bag and walked over to them, but stopped short as his light shined on the figure and he assessed them.

It was another person, definitely male based on what he could see, standing with his back to Yamcha and looking to be a bit hunched over. Except…the person was completely naked, not a hint of any kind of clothing in sight. He had choppy black hair similar to Yamcha's that ended at his midback, though it faded to red halfway down. He was silent and unmoving.

Yamcha stared at their backside for a moment, then managed to find his voice. "U-Uh, excuse me?" he said, taking a few steps towards the figure, who seemed to hear him but didn't respond. "What…What are you…Why aren't you wearing any clothing? You know it's freezing out here, right?" His confused mind grasped at anything to say in this situation. "Hey, do you know what's going on in this—?"

Yamcha didn't get the chance to finish his question. The figure had started to turn around as he talked, now facing the ex-bandit…and Yamcha's words died on his lips as he inhaled sharply in shock, dark eyes widening at the sight before him.

He had been right, the figure was a male, and he could see that he had white streaks in his bangs. But…

The figure looked as if he was barely clinging to life. His entire body had been mutilated and severely disfigured beyond recognition. There were too many lacerations on his body to count, each one bleeding profusely, a stream of red cascading down his skin and dripping onto the dead grass beneath him. It was clear that each cut was deeply infected, as the skin was swollen and was an ugly mix of red, purple and green, with pus oozing out in several places. But his face…his face was the worst. Yamcha couldn't properly make out any features—not a mouth, nose or even eyes—underneath all the torn-up and blood-smeared flesh.

Oh Kami…

Yamcha couldn't find his voice, too shocked at the sight of the figure in front of him to even more. Then, the figure took one step in his direction, and he felt it.

Fear.

He didn't understand why. He had fought literal monsters, so why did this…this thing fill him with terror when the others hadn't? Yamcha's first instinct was to run, but he found himself unable to move, as if his feet were incased in cement. Without even thinking, he reached out with his chi sense, trying to assess the figure's power level. But…

He couldn't sense anything from them.

But why? It didn't make any sense.

The figure took another step towards him, and this time, Yamcha found himself and backed away from the figure. The figure looked as if it were about to take another step, but froze. The figure turned his head as if to look around, though Yamcha doubted he could see anything. For a few seconds, nothing happened. Yamcha's eyes never left the figure as he continued to back away.

Then, without warning, the figure snapped his head up in Yamcha's direction, the ex-bandit flinching as a squelching crack filled the air when he did so, and rapidly charged in Yamcha's direction. It felt as if adrenalin had suddenly kneed him in the gut, and Yamcha bolted away from the figure, rushing to the other end of the playground in the blink of an eye. The figure, on the other hand, had run into the fence where Yamcha had been standing a moment before, hitting the grimy bars and a loud crack filling the air.

The figure seemed stunned as he stumbled back, taking a moment to regain himself. And that's when Yamcha finally noticed that the song from the music box had suddenly grown much louder, the figure now much closer to it. But before Yamcha had the chance to think about it any further, the figure regained himself and quickly charged at him again.

Maybe it was the fear and panic that weighed heavily in his gut, or maybe it was the adrenalin coursing through his veins, but the next thing Yamcha knew, he curled his free hand into a fist, and once the figure was close enough, swung out and slammed it harshly into his face.

A crunching noise filled the air as his fist connected, scarlet liquids splashing onto his skin as the figure was sent flying backwards several feet and fell the ground with a thud. Yamcha's eyes widened as he looked back and forth between his fist and the figure as it struggled to stand back up, blood continuing to pour from his wounds. Why…Why had he done that?!

"I-I'm sorry," he called out, desperately praying to whatever gods he knew that the figure had just attacked him out of blind fear, that it was just an innocent, injured person who needed his help, as the figure slowly made his way back to his feet. "Please, I didn't want to hurt you, you just startled me…Let me help—"

For the second time, his sentence was cut short, because as the figure stood all the way back up, he suddenly grabbed his head with both hands and seemed to be writhing in unbridled agony. Yamcha instantly went silent as he stared in horror. He hadn't struck the figure that hard, had he? But before he had to chance to say or do anything else, the figure threw his head back, and before Yamcha's eyes, an arm burst from the figure's face, completely soaked in dark crimson fluids as the flesh split apart and droplets flew all over the place.

Whatever hope that Yamcha had felt was shattered.

This thing wasn't human.

The figure let out an ear-splitting, unholy shriek as the newly-formed arm clawed and grasped at the air, forcing Yamcha to cover his ears. The chi light source vanished as he did so, plunging the world around them into darkness again. The shriek came to an abrupt stop, and the first thing Yamcha heard when he removed his hands from his ears was the sound of rapidly approaching footsteps.

Panic set in again and without thinking, Yamcha raised up his hand and sent a chi blast in the direction of the footsteps. A flash of light filled the area, and Yamcha watched as the chi blast slammed into the figure, who let out another shriek—this one thankfully not as loud—as he was sent barreling to the ground again as they were plunged into darkness once more.

The horrid stench of burning flesh filled the air, and Yamcha formed a bit of chi in his palm again, the light of it allowing him to see that the figure's skin was now singed, the dark red arm flailing in the air as if in panic. The figure got back up to his feet, though a bit slower this time, and charged at Yamcha again. The hand of the arm clawed at the open air, looking ready to tear apart anything it could grasp.

It wanted to kill him.

The moment this realization struck Yamcha, his mind shut down. His instincts took over, and the moment it was close enough, Yamcha placed all of his strength into a powerful roundhouse kick that he aimed at the figure's head. A loud, sickening snap echoed throughout the air, and the figure's body was sent soaring one last time. It crashed through the rotting wall of the schoolhouse, sending the desks and chairs flying across the room as it landed on the disgusting floors with a heavy thud.

As if the snap had brought him back to reality, a heavy feeling of dread weighed in Yamcha's gut. Did…Did he just…?

He headed over to the newly-formed hole in the side of the schoolhouse, his chi light source allowing him to see inside. And sure enough, he was greeted by the sight of the figure lying on the ground, motionless and silent. Its head was twisted at an awkward angle, and the dark red arm was limp, not moving at all.

Dark eyes locked onto the lifeless body before him. He had killed it.

His mind felt as if it were in a civil war, the guilt and horror he felt at the realization threatening to overwhelm him. At the exact same time, another voice in his head told him that this thing wasn't human, that it wanted to kill him, that he did no wrong by ending its life. And he couldn't decide which side he wanted to listen to, the silence around him practically deafening.

Wait a minute. Silence?

Yamcha blinked as he turned around, his eyes quickly landing on the messenger bag by the swing set. The music box had stopped playing. It was so quiet; you could've heard a pin drop. He shook his head, his mind struggling to grasp at just about anything at this point. What was going on? Why was all of this happening? There had to be an explanation for this, but any kind of reasoning escaped him.

Not sure what else to do, Yamcha walked over to the messenger bag and crouched down, looking into it once more. He pulled out the flashlight, turning it on as his chi light source vanished. The artificial light was scintillating, much to his pleasant surprise, which he was thankful for in the darkness. Curiosity urged him to look at the piece of paper, and when he did, he was stupefied once more as he realized that it was a map of Kioku Town.

He looked it over, a few things starting to click now. He saw it all. The town's entrance, the roads, the shops, the schoolhouse, the library, the restaurants, the houses and apartments…It was all here.

A flash of color caught his eye, and he looked up. The colors and images—another memory—from before had returned, the world turning from dark and foggy to warm and bright. Everything looked clean and inviting, the ghostly images of children running around and laughing and having fun on the playground. Yamcha stood back up, map and flashlight still in hand, and as he did, he spotted the images of his younger self and Sencha. They were here at the swing set, the younger Yamcha happily swinging as Sencha sat reclined against one of the set's poles, focused on the book in her hands.

Yamcha smiled at the sight. While he was definitely the more adventurous of the two of them, Sencha had always been the bookworm, taking the chance to read whenever she could. It was all coming back to him now.

His younger self looked up and suddenly halted himself on the swing, making Sencha look up as well. Yamcha followed their gaze, and was greeted by the sight of a young girl on the other side of the fence, watching them with a smile on her face. The girl looked to be a little bit older than his younger self by a few years, and…she possessed milky skin, aqua-blue hair that was tied into messy low pigtails, azure-blue eyes, a band-aid over her left cheek, and her outfit consisted of a gray-pink T-Shirt underneath a pair of purple overalls and blue and white sneakers.

Tenshi.

Yamcha couldn't believe it. She…She looked exactly liked Bulma, almost identical. This girl was his childhood friend. But why hadn't he remembered her until now, especially since she looked so much like his girlfriend?

"Tenshi!" The younger Yamcha cried out happily at the sight of the blue-haired girl, jumping off the swing and running up to the fence, Sencha right behind him with her now closed book in hand.

The image of Tenshi giggled softly as the brother-sister pair reached the fence. "Hey, guys," she said.

"What are you doing here?" Sencha asked, tilting her head in mild confusion. "I mean, our lessons don't end for another hour."

"I know," Tenshi said, one hand digging into her overalls pocket. "But I was at the junk yard earlier, and check out what I found." She pulled the object of interest out of her pocket, and the twins took a moment to admire it.

Yamcha's eyes widened as he realized what was in her hand. It was a small music box, big enough to fit into the palm of her hand, and though it was filthy and rusty, they could tell it was blue with golden accents…

"Whoa…" the younger Yamcha breathed out in awe, then looked back up at the blue-haired girl. "Does it work?" Tenshi nodded with a grin as she reached up and cranked the rusty handle a few times. The metal creaked as she did so, but once she was done, a soft, beautiful melody sounded from the box, much to the trio's awe.

The images slowly faded away, once again giving way to the dark world around him. Yamcha blinked at what he had just witnessed, then turned back to the messenger bag. He set the map back down and picked up the third item within the bag.

There was no mistaking it. This was Tenshi's music box, though much cleaner and polished, and even after all these years, it hadn't lost its beautiful melody. Now he remembered. After their lessons at the schoolhouse had ended, Tenshi and the twins had gone back to where the latter lived, and his grandmother had cleaned up the music box while they played, restoring it to its former glory.

Tenshi…Yamcha blinked again as a new piece of information surface in his brain. Tenshi didn't have a family like he and Sencha had. She was one of the few orphans in the town. The adults always took care of her, but she acted like a 'lone wolf', even at a young age, constantly deciding to sleep under the stars and spending the majority of her free time either at the junk yard or wandering around the town, never really settling down with a family. It reminded him of Goku when he was a kid, honestly, which made him chuckle slightly.

But she was always close with Yamcha and his family. The black-haired boy had actually been the first to befriend her, when he was three and she was six, and she had opened up to them. Tenshi would constantly be over for family dinners and to play with the twins. The ex-bandit smiled warmly at the memories.

Yamcha placed the music box back in the bag and pulled up the map again. "Okay," he breathed out quietly. He slung the bag's strap over his shoulder and stood up, having a feeling he'd need it sooner or later. Holding the flashlight in one hand and the open map in the other, he looked the latter over.

Where would Sencha and Tenshi be? He scanned the map for any kind of special landmarks, a place in their childhood where they would've met up, but what little memories he had couldn't supply him with anything. Yamcha sighed heavily as he folded the map back up and put it back in the bag. He looked around, inwardly wincing at the sight of the hole in the schoolhouse, not wanting to even think about what had just occurred.

There was no reason to stay here. Still gripping the flashlight in his hand, Yamcha walked back to the fence and jumped over it with ease, landing on the other side and walking off into the foggy darkness.

I was only in my mind

You were on the outside waiting

I could feel you all the time

Your voice could save me

Now all these sirens sing for me

But I just wanna hear your melody

I call and I can hear you sing

But oh

It's only my echo

It's only my echo

In case anyone's wondering what Tenshi's music box sounds like, I imagine it sounding just like the music box puzzle from Silent Hill 2