Yunjin turned away, tears rolling down her face more than the rain.

"Lies... That's all you are. You're just lies..."

She wiped it away with her hand, her brows still furrowed in immense anger.
"You- you just make promises you can't keep..."

And she left, storming away into the darkness.

...

She could see it. It was piercing through the darkness like a blade of salvation.
Something that could slice through the very depths of calamity.

The light.
Perhaps it was time. Perhaps death had already taken her, and she was walking into its arms. The leaves on the growth around her glossed a dim blue, but yet they stood out like the shines of needles within a haystack; just mere pinpoint gleams, but as radiant as the sun.
Kazuha was, as sure as she was, walking right on the border between life and death, entwined in a web of calamity.

She advanced closer to the light protruding through the gaps in the greenery in front of her, each step accompanied by a shooting pain from her wound, where the blood was already dribbling down her hand which weakly covered it.

Only as the pain felt like it were ringing in her head, then did she break away from her line of fantasies, and back into the harsh reality.
The light was not death's door, yet instead it was merely just opening through the branches, down onto a floor of cracked, and uneven gravel paving.
Kazuha waded her way through the branches, peering out into the surroundings.

The coast was clear.

She spun around, checking behind her.
It was only a matter of time before Sakura would find her again.
Kazuha felt herself shudder.
She was being hunted down.

And so she needed to act quickly.

There were buildings. An entire cluster of them. Yet, even though the buildings could've passed as entire suite complexes in terms of size, they seemed to be quite the opposite.
They were completely worn down, half of the buildings had multiple missing windows, doors and even some pieces of bricks were missing.
The place looked ripe for demolition.
Abandoned, even.

But that was the least of her worries.
For her, it was hide or die.
And the buildings were her best hope.

It wasn't going to be much, but it would do.

Kazuha trudged on, casting weary glances behind herself.
She kept her now blood covered hand upon her side, and she could feel the warmth running down her fingers.

It was nauseating, and the irony scent which came from it made her feel even more lightheaded, making it more and more difficult with every stride she took towards the nearest building to her.
Her head felt as if it was spinning, gyrating and floating away from her at the same time, as if it were a sensation of her leaving her own body.

Kazuha let out a grunt, stumbling down to the ground, trying to center herself, to pull herself back from the soulless feeling.
With a huge effort, she managed to bring herself back well enough to continue to make some more progress, getting up and dragging herself forward with weary steps.

She cast a small glance behind her.
There was no sign of Sakura.
Yet.

And she wasn't going to take any chances.
The wind whistled in the air like a death bell in her ears, swaying, pursuing her until what felt like the end of the world, perhaps until the end of her life.
Whether the end would be soon or now, she still feared it all the same.

The door was there.
Just in front of her. Just an arm's length.
She reached for it.

Kazuha clasped it's cold metal handle in her hand.
She went to pull it open.

CRACK

It sounded like gunfire.
The snaps hung in the air like the ring of a mighty bell.

The snapping of branches.
Like something bolting out of the trees.

There was no doubt. Nothing human could have such strength to perform such a feat in the blink of an eye.
It was Sakura.

And Kazuha knew it.
She could feel her presence.

She was there.
It was time to go.

...

Everything felt like some form of an embrace to him. The drifting clouds which flew by like nothing but a soft gust of condensation against his hands, but yet left no residue, as if it itself did not exist. Almost like some kind of object of a hallucination or a strong desire for it to be there, and in turn his eyes deceiving him.

The same gusts blew through his hair, and every breath seemed as crisp and as clear as something completely pure and free of rot or wear.
He looked at his hands.
They were cleansed. Pure. The ethereal glow seemed to radiate off of his skin, a more beautiful shine more superior than any star could possibly produce.
They were no longer blood ridden as they had been. It was no longer that way.

There was no longer any pain, nor sadness which resided within him.
Just solace.

Just he, himself and purity.

The place. The haven of clouds and complete consolation. He was beginning to feel a large sense of consolidation; a growing strength he had never felt before, but all the same yearned for it.
It was almost like the entire place was made for him.
Only him. The only mortal to ever set foot in it.

There was nothing to spoil it.
It was just him and the voice.

Sunghoon closed his eyes.
It was a perfect place.
His perfect place.

What was there to lose here?
Nothing.

"I don't want to leave..." he muttered, shaking his head.

He looked up at the sky, at the voice, to plead.
What more did he need to achieve other than this? Wasn't this the final destination, what every mortal sought to achieve?
There was everything he needed.
Everything to feel complete.

The gentle, human-like voice spoke to him.
"They need you..."

Need him?
Nobody needed him.

It was just him.
Right?

Sunghoon shook his head.
No.
He didn't want to accept it.
He didn't want to accept that any of it was happening.
No.

Everything was pure.
Everything was alright.
The voice was nothing but an angel. Just an angel to help him.

The place was for him to stay, weightless and floating for the eternities to come. In solace.
In safety.

He opened his eyes.
To the horror around him.

His bloodstained hands, the gaping wound in his torso, the tears of blood running down his eyes, the feeling of not floating, but free-falling down.
He wasn't floating at all.
He was falling, descending back down to the harsh reality.

Here or there, it was all hell anyways.

He let out a scream, reaching out his hands grasping for the clouds, scratching the air.
Anything.
Anything.

Anything he could anchor himself with.
To stay away from that.
To stay away from reality.

Through the clouds he fell, descending down into dark depths.
And, through the parting, he could see it.
The face of the voice.
Beautifully shaped, seraphic. A soft and gentle beauty, twisted into a face of pity, looking down at him.

Its tear-filled face looked at his as he descended, with the look of heartbreak etched in its ethereal features.

"I'm so sorry... And please, do not fear..."

...