PROLOGUE

Sadness—never, ever, something that we actively summon or wish to feel—manages to find its way to us every now and then.

Spring was at its peak. Sun glazing all over portraying a beautiful day for the people to look forward to.

But all that could be seen was a child giggling his way through the people on a busy intersection chasing after a butterfly.

He wasn't alone, he had a beautiful raven haired women chasing after him calling his name to slow down. This would be a wholesome scene to watch over if not for what happened next.

In a heartbeat, the tranquil afternoon transformed into a scene of chaos and terror. Laughter filled the air as the butterfly danced just out of reach, leading the child closer to the bustling street.

Unbeknownst to them, a speeding car hurtled toward the intersection, tires screeching as it careened out of control.

The child's mother, a figure of fierce love and swift action, saw the impending catastrophe unfold in a split second. Instinct surged within her, a primal force that propelled her into action.

The child, startled by their mother's urgent cry, turned just in time to glimpse the terror in her eyes. Without a second thought, the mother lunged, her arms wrapping protectively around the child's small frame.

The impact was a deafening cacophony, a collision of metal and flesh. The mother's sacrifice was instantaneous, her body becoming a shield against the car's unrelenting force.

The only thing the child could make out were the gentle whispers of his mother

"i-s -ot you- fau....."

.....before she was declared dead.

Blackout.

Ayato Pov:

"GASP...huff..huff...again huh?"

My breath came in short, ragged gasps, and a cold sweat covered my forehead. For a moment, I was disoriented, trapped between the terrifying scenes of my nightmare and the reality of my dimly lit room. In the darkness, my room felt both familiar and foreign, the shadows playing tricks on my senses. I could feel the weight of the nightmare clinging to me like a shroud, its tendrils refusing to let go.

And then, the harsh blare of my alarm clock shattered the silence, slicing through the lingering echoes of my dream. The sudden noise was a stark contrast to the eerie quiet of my bedroom, and I instinctively reached out to silence it before getting out of my bed.

With a deep, steadying breath, I swung my legs over the side of the bed and sat up and head out for the bathroom.

I met my own gaze in the mirror, the harsh light revealing every flaw etched into my tired face. The eyes that stared back seemed distant, devoid of the spark they once held. Tracing the chiseled jawline and the piercing eyes that stared back at me.

The eyes that I hate with every fiber of my being...a beautiful pearly silver.

"Tsk..... Just because these resemble those of THAT MAN "

The sink's faucet groaned as I turned it on, splashing water onto my face. The droplets slid down, carrying with them the weight of another restless night.

As I wiped my face with a worn towel, I caught my reflection again in the foggy mirror. Tired eyes stared back, their vibrancy dulled by the solitude that seemed to cling to every corner of the apartment. I forced a bitter smile, the reflection mocking my attempts at masking the loneliness.

With a sigh, I reached for the small, tarnished earrings on the bathroom counter. They were my companions, glimmers of individuality in a sea of sameness. The metallic clinks as I fastened them felt like echoes in the quiet emptiness around me.

I stepped into the school uniform hanging by the door, the fabric crisp but devoid of the enthusiasm it once held. The weight of it settled on my shoulders, a reminder of the mundane routine that awaited me outside these walls.

My gaze shifted to the kitchenette, where a solitary protein bar sat on the counter. The meager breakfast option mocked my attempts at nourishment, a metaphor for the emptiness that seemed to seep into every aspect of my life.

Amidst the muted surroundings, a hint of color caught my eye on a small table near the window. A few paintbrushes, their bristles stained with vibrant hues, lay beside a half-finished canvas. The art supplies whispered of a world beyond the desolation, a glimpse of the creativity that still flickered within.

With a resigned sigh, I picked up the protein bar and took a reluctant bite. The taste was bland, a reflection of the flavorless existence that had become my norm. Swallowing, I glanced around the apartment once more, the silence a constant companion in the melancholic symphony that played within these walls.

Before turning away, I paused by the door, casting a glance at the faded photograph on the wall. A raven-haired woman, her eyes kind and warm, smiled back at me. Her hair was uncannily similar to mine, a shared trait that bound us even after her passing.

With a faint smile, I murmured

"I'm off, Mom"

my words a quiet affirmation of her presence in my daily struggles.

As I turned the doorknob and stepped out, the apartment seemed to exhale a sigh of its own, its loneliness seeping out and clinging to me. The door closed behind me, sealing the atmosphere of desolation within. I walked away, the weight of the solitude still heavy on my shoulders, each step a reluctant march through the shadows of my own isolation, with a whispered memory of a mother's love and a faint promise of colors waiting to be brought to life on canvas.