Blood seeping away, down onto the pavement. My self-taken charge lying on the pavement looking up in horror. Chemicals. Burning. Finally, the one under my care realizes. Pain, suffering. For naught, if undirected towards any goal, or belief.
White surrounding. Black suffocating. The end is near, my mission accomplished. Weiss lives on, those who lurk in the shadows of night will continue to come to justice. My sacrifice, complete with meaning.
The sun fluttered, as usual, down through the green tree leaves above. Children's laughter chases through the trunks and gnarled roots of the trees of the park. A man, seemingly alone, stands by a park bench, staring intently into the distance. Soon, a hopping bundle of a girl, no older than 10 bounds down the pathway. In her hand lies a piece of paper. Not much sets it aside, it's white – no markings, and not crinkled. Smiling, the man accepts the piece of paper from the young girl, and sitting on the bench begins to fold the paper. Soon, a masterpiece shows through, and the beginnings of a vehicle of flight emerge. The girl stands, staring intently at the development, obviously as absorbed in the creation of the craft as the eventual flight. Soon, the man stands up, and a slight breeze picks up. Still smiling, he gently releases his creation.
Floating through the air, riding the gentle mountains and valleys of the breeze. With a joyful giggle the girl takes off – and follows the plane. The girl is the man's life, his cause. The reason to continue on, and the reason for happiness. Her name? Azumi. His? Botan.
Shaking
his head slowly, ever with the smile, Botan informs the girl, his daughter, it
is time to leave.
"But, why?" With big eyes, she
pleads to stay.
Botan bends over, bringing his eyes to the same level as hers.
"The day is getting late, and we still need to eat, Azumi. But," Botan says with a widening grin, "Today let's eat real food, something besides my cooking."
Her hair being ruffled, Azumi crosses her arms over the plane.
"Can we go for tempura today?" A cheerful glint lends itself to brighten the moist eyes of the little girl.
"Of course, Azumi, and we'll finish it with tea, and perhaps some ice cream."
Thoroughly pleased with the outcome of events, Azumi heartily agreed. Hand in Hand, Azumi and Botan left the park behind.
Slipping
quietly behind, a tall man silently pursued.
At a restaurant, two people happily enter.
Walking to a booth, they seat themselves and prepare to eat. The city looms outside, people glide by the
windows off to their own destinations and errands. Frowning slightly, Botan looks out the window, staring intently
out the window at some passerby.
"What's wrong papa?" Azumi asks, recognizing the change of expressions on Botan's face.
Surprised at the girl's observation, Botan stops frowning and returns to his normal grin. "Don't trouble yourself with it." Inwardly, however, he wondered. Across the street a man sat on a bench, pretending to intently stare at a newspaper. Every 5 seconds, however, he looked up, stared into the restaurant, and then resumed with his paper. Unsure of why this troubled him, Botan continued with his dinner. Tonight he was with his daughter, that was all that mattered.