002 - Broadcast Mind
[There's a hill, somewhere in that shithole called Inuzuri, the 78th District of the Rukongai. There are graves on this hill, or at least were. Nothing is ever permanent in that corner of hell and you know this. Still, occasionally you visit that hill in your mind, look upon the nameless markers of your friends, friends whose faces will never fade from your memory, not when they were the only real family you ever had. Family taken too soon, when you're still young, but already too old for your age, and yet...yet...
She is still beside you. She is still there.
Years go by and you find yourself wearing black, belonging to the order of those who never helped you as you survived instead of grew up. And yet they're the heroes, right? You're a hero, though you feel nothing like it. Others respect you, yes, but is it really you they bow to or your rank? Do they even see you? Your hair is as red as the blood you've shed and yet the doubt eats away at the back of your mind, at your soul, wondering if you'll ever get close to the pedestals of everyone else around you.
Your captain, the substitute, everyone else wearing pure white as if they are untouched by sins. Sins linger in the air and you know this, everyone knows this, and yet not a damn word is spoken. People live, people die, people drink, people fuck, people laugh, people cry, and it seems to you that almost none of it even matters when those figures tower over you, forever getting closer to the sky, to freedom from everything, while you're stuck in the dirt. Or maybe you're just falling, sinking, losing faith in it all causing you to drown in the waves of wanting, finding yourself unneeded as the world moves on without you.
Even she is out of reach now. No matter how quickly you run after her, how far you stretch your arm to bring her back, she is always ahead of you, always moving forward, always moving higher and you can't. even. touch her.
Of all the fucking stars in the sky, she's the most distant, but still the one that shines brightest.
But still, you pick yourself up and smile and pretend that nothing is wrong. After all, you're not dead yet and maybe, maybe you'll be the stray that someone wants to take in and love.
Maybe.]
She is still beside you. She is still there.
Years go by and you find yourself wearing black, belonging to the order of those who never helped you as you survived instead of grew up. And yet they're the heroes, right? You're a hero, though you feel nothing like it. Others respect you, yes, but is it really you they bow to or your rank? Do they even see you? Your hair is as red as the blood you've shed and yet the doubt eats away at the back of your mind, at your soul, wondering if you'll ever get close to the pedestals of everyone else around you.
Your captain, the substitute, everyone else wearing pure white as if they are untouched by sins. Sins linger in the air and you know this, everyone knows this, and yet not a damn word is spoken. People live, people die, people drink, people fuck, people laugh, people cry, and it seems to you that almost none of it even matters when those figures tower over you, forever getting closer to the sky, to freedom from everything, while you're stuck in the dirt. Or maybe you're just falling, sinking, losing faith in it all causing you to drown in the waves of wanting, finding yourself unneeded as the world moves on without you.
Even she is out of reach now. No matter how quickly you run after her, how far you stretch your arm to bring her back, she is always ahead of you, always moving forward, always moving higher and you can't. even. touch her.
Of all the fucking stars in the sky, she's the most distant, but still the one that shines brightest.
But still, you pick yourself up and smile and pretend that nothing is wrong. After all, you're not dead yet and maybe, maybe you'll be the stray that someone wants to take in and love.
Maybe.]