No Dreams left to Dream [Scrap]

[Emma]

You could be an angel or a demon
But once you are not, it will be as if you never were

[Enter]

The snow of Yukigakure had always been a perilous thing. Three weeks past, the young boy had slipped on a roof tile and plummeted to the pavement, his shoulder speared upon a great wrought-iron gate-post. He had been declared 'lucky to survive' with what remained of his ligament having to be amputated, but while still recovering in the hospital, his mentor had appeared in the night, and delivered him a message.

"You are no longer worth anything to me." Was all he had said.

Though Katashi's eyes had always been bland, cold and hard, they were particularly dead on this occasion. He stood in the street of Yukigakure, bodies bumping past him, the stump of his shoulder wrapped in profuse bandages. Quietly, surreptitiously, the boy drew a knife from his pouch with his remaining hand, and looked upon its surface. It was interesting, the way the harsh glare of the winter sun bounced off of it. Katashi drew down his mask, revealing a mouth that hardly ever spoke.

"I wish I had been more." Was all he said, before he plunged the blade into his neck.

Robbed of all resistance, the boy sagged to the pavement as blood began to pour from the open wound. Slowly, his white eyes shut. Gasps were heard, people clamoring to be away from the dying body. And that was the last thing Katashi ever knew.

[Scrap]

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[Umehara]

Dead.