Stone
He dresses in black. Even his eyes are dull, oiled pieces of obsidian. They reflect only transient things. In the park, a little girl holds a bouquet of flowers. She passes by him like a thousand before her. Like a thousand after. This girl comes up to him, adorns a rose in his hair like one would garner an idol on feast day. Her mother watches warily.
"Smile, Ni-san!" The girl says, darting away.
The wind follows her staccato footsteps, taking the blossom away. Subaru's fingers twitch in a voiceless plea.
Red lingers like Seishirou's heart, dying in his hand.