Dino as a child. Yep. KHR belongs to Amano.
When Dino was young, the names didn't matter.
The names of the things, the people around him held little importance. He just knew what they were. He didn't need labels or letters to make the feelings between him and his Mama real. It just was. Just like Jesus Christ was the savior and the bread and wine are his flesh and blood. Dino knew these things. It was a simple sort of knowledge, the things that people are born with in their bodies. Everything was simple because he knew.
None of this, this disease, this helpless grasping for words, ever afflicted his childhood. What he had was simple. What he knew was fair.
Growing up pulled words out of him like a doctor pulling out rotten teeth. How do you know that men die for stupid, human reasons rooted in greed and blood? The gapping holes left in his person are the forever festering holes that are left in the gums after all the teeth are gone. What can he chew now? What can he take in when everything is leaking out?
What kind of future, what kind of salvation can he look forward to with a blood of thousands on his hand?
The blood of millions flies through the air and make sounds like water on a grave stone as he gestures with his hand.
Ten generations worth of blood and filth weigh him down, and squeeze the words out of him. What he knows now, is that what he was born with was how he was.