In some ways, a pursuit in broad daylight is far easier than one at night. Something a boy with white hair is only now realizing.
At night, people anticipate nefarious deeds to take place. At night people keep an eye out for said deeds, the police patrol in greater numbers and a majority of people travel in packs. The monsters in your closet emerge to rule.
But in the day. Oh, why would you be so terrified in the day. The monsters are locked away. There are people everywhere, why would you be so scared. Just ask for help! Just call on a friend. No man would dare strike in the day, there are so many people about. You feel safer.
The harsh reality is you're less safe than ever. For an action performed in broad daylight sets far more of a message. A message which reads, I care not for the ramifications of my actions. A message written in both blood and chaos. A message written by a man without fear.
And the white haired boy was most certainly experiencing fear. He ran left to right, attempting to shake his pursuer. They appeared a corpse, the corpse of the boy's dead sister whom he had murdered in cold blood as a child. She just wouldn't share back then, she wouldn't let him play. And so, when the time came, the boy brought her life to an end. Her smothering had been an awful accident... and yet today she chased him. Seemingly grown up and wielding a sword almost as bloody as her face... and yet, whenever he got far enough away she would vanish in the crowd... only to appear moments later.
In fear driven stupidity the white haired boy rounded a corner, trapped at a dead end he drew forth a weapon. A black stick that, with the click of a button, became a far longer tonfa. The alleyway, which led to a dead end, provided little cover. A single solitary garbage can and three brown-red walls surrounded him. His undead sister rounded the corner. His tears began to flow. He swung once with the weapon, only to fall. He couldn't bring himself to do it, he couldn't harm her like that again. A strong hand lifted him by his shirt, bringing him face to face with her. His weapon fell.
"I-I'm so sorry sis... I-I didn't mean to..."
In an instant the don's hex was released, the young man saw the true monster. Anorexic, purple haired, and with eyes like arctic water.
"You're perfect..."
At night, people anticipate nefarious deeds to take place. At night people keep an eye out for said deeds, the police patrol in greater numbers and a majority of people travel in packs. The monsters in your closet emerge to rule.
But in the day. Oh, why would you be so terrified in the day. The monsters are locked away. There are people everywhere, why would you be so scared. Just ask for help! Just call on a friend. No man would dare strike in the day, there are so many people about. You feel safer.
The harsh reality is you're less safe than ever. For an action performed in broad daylight sets far more of a message. A message which reads, I care not for the ramifications of my actions. A message written in both blood and chaos. A message written by a man without fear.
And the white haired boy was most certainly experiencing fear. He ran left to right, attempting to shake his pursuer. They appeared a corpse, the corpse of the boy's dead sister whom he had murdered in cold blood as a child. She just wouldn't share back then, she wouldn't let him play. And so, when the time came, the boy brought her life to an end. Her smothering had been an awful accident... and yet today she chased him. Seemingly grown up and wielding a sword almost as bloody as her face... and yet, whenever he got far enough away she would vanish in the crowd... only to appear moments later.
In fear driven stupidity the white haired boy rounded a corner, trapped at a dead end he drew forth a weapon. A black stick that, with the click of a button, became a far longer tonfa. The alleyway, which led to a dead end, provided little cover. A single solitary garbage can and three brown-red walls surrounded him. His undead sister rounded the corner. His tears began to flow. He swung once with the weapon, only to fall. He couldn't bring himself to do it, he couldn't harm her like that again. A strong hand lifted him by his shirt, bringing him face to face with her. His weapon fell.
"I-I'm so sorry sis... I-I didn't mean to..."
In an instant the don's hex was released, the young man saw the true monster. Anorexic, purple haired, and with eyes like arctic water.
"You're perfect..."
