Sakura walked in a desolate, grey, lonely place, the heels of her boots clicking as they met with the lopsided, equally monochromous floor. Not a single breathing creature flew overhead nor walked alongside her—she was all alone in this barren, melancholic world. The sky above was a sad, hollow hue of blacks and whites, too, and the hollow buildings that were scattered all around seemed to be the only hope that this place has for decoration.

Her head turned right, and then left. The quiet rustle of the wind was the only noise she could hear, aside from her own footsteps.

Where was she…?

The place was terribly unknown to her, and yet there seemed to be an odd sense of familiarity surrounding it. Had she been here before, she wondered?

Nevertheless, she trudged on—God knows where her destination was, nor what exactly she was seeking. Her gloved hand held onto her weapon—her naginata—tightly, as if she was expecting an ambush.

Perhaps she was indeed expecting someone to attack her.

Walking in this barren, desolate land made her feel like a completely different person. All of a sudden, she felt… tougher. It felt as if she had more courage than she usually has. There wasn't even any hint of emotion in her now seemingly dull face. Her heels continued to click as she went, the scenery unchanging no matter how long she seemed to have been walking.

"…fancy seeing such a lovely face in these premises."

She spun around, quickly directing her gaze towards the owner of the mischievous-toned voice.

"I never thought that you would drop by to visit on such a lovely day, dear Sakura," the blond man said, his voice thick with mockery. Sakura watched him jump off from the slightly higher cliff the man had been standing on. He landed a few feet from her.

"Arthur…" she mumbled aloud, quite unconsciously, her now crimson eyes narrowing at him.

"My, my," the man, who now had a name, pulled his infamous smirk across his lips. "I never thought you would ever acknowledge me by my name at all, Sakura. I always thought you saw my name as something equivalent to trash."

The girl stood quietly, unmoved. She simply followed his figure with her gaze as he began to move towards her. She straightened, her grip on her naginata tightening. She knew what would possibly come next.

Arthur unsheathed his own sword, the blade glistening as the distant, invisible light reflected on its edges. The blade seemed to mirror his own grin—sharp, and dangerous. "Am I really that quite predictable, dear Sakura?" he mocked, swinging his sword in his hand. "I suppose that's forgivable. After all, our existence is to simply end the other's."

Without another word, he lunged at her, swinging the sword in his hand around furiously, desperately trying to find an opening so he could wounding her. She equally hacked away with the tip of her own weapon, blocking out his efforts of hurting her with the long handle, pushing him back whenever he got too close.

"Getting tired yet, dear Sakura?" he taunted, trying to evade the attacks that the girl would occasionally give. The girl breathed heavily—she was indeed getting tired. But, no, she would never admit that, not in front of the person who would so willingly end the pain for her. She shook her head, grumbling, and threw herself forward, trying to knock the man off balance.

Instead, she found herself struggling with her own balance. Blaming the uneven ground below her, she leapt aside, evading the other's attack by a mere centimetre. Arthur let out a chuckle. "I see how it is. You just wouldn't give up, won't you…?"

She took a step back, and another. She briefly examined the damage the other had done on her. There were nearly a hundred open cuts on both her arms, and there was a big wound on her side. Blood seemed to be gushing out—she couldn't see it quite well, given that she was wearing black. But there were a few drops of blood that were visible on her now dirtied white skirt.

The pain she knew would come never came. She ignored the wound and focused her gaze back on the other and her surroundings. Only then had she noticed that she had been backing towards a dead end.

"My, my…" she heard him say mockingly, his laughter ringing in her ears. "Who would've thought it would end like this…?"

She looked around, trying to look for a way to escape.

"There's nothing here, Sakura. You're bound to die," he called out as he walked slowly towards her, biding his time.

She shook her head defiantly. No, no… she still has to live. There must be at least a way out of here… a crevice, or something of the like. She was running out of time.

Instead of trying to figure out a way to get out of here, she took a step forward, her gloved hands tightening around her weapon once more.

"I see," Arthur said, amusement in his tone. "So you would rather fight than flee. What a stupid choice."

And with those words, he lunged towards her, swinging his sword. Sakura held her naginata forward, the tip of the blade about to meet the other.

But Arthur paused halfway, throwing aside his own weapon. Sakura could only raise an eyebrow. She lowered her arms, loosening her grip on her naginata. He fumbled in his pockets, then threw a small knife at her direction. It merely missed her by a few inches.

"I'll let you go… for now," he spoke, turning around to walk away. "You don't deserve to die… not yet. This isn't the time for it yet…" From afar, she could hear his infamous grin stretch across his face. "And besides, where's the fun in killing you when you're already weakened?"

"Run. Run now, before I change my mind."

She never ran. She simply watched him walk away, somewhat dumbfounded by his actions and sudden change of heart. "Coward…" she heard herself say. "Fool…"

She let herself fall onto the floor, landing on her bottom. She leaned against the wall she was backing towards to a few moments earlier. She was tired.

She reexamined the many wounds that marked her body. Blood was still threatening to spill from her side, yet she still felt no pain, even if she wrapped her hand around it. She sighed, and closed her eyes.

When Sakura opened her eyes once more, she found herself back inside her room, the sunlight peeking from behind the curtains. She could hear the birds chirping and fluttering outside. It was already morning.

"…just another bad dream…" she mumbled to herself as she slowly sat up, rubbing her eyes. The sound of her own voice seemed to reassure her. "Just… just another bad dream."

How many bad dreams did she already have, and how many more are out there to haunt her…?