nel

Sure, you can doubt them and they'll pay attention to your smallest movement, trying to find fault. But at the end of the day, you all return to a "home". One that could have explosives stacked under.

You'd laugh it off though, with your teammates, with your allies, with your friends. Eventually, you'll forget about it, as long as you are filled with hearts that want nothing more than to tear out your chest.

A new heart, foreign, aoratas get ready to be used to an alien organ. It is yours, and it awaits for someone's selfish hands to yank it out.

It is yours, yet you are willing to give them away. Not for a reward, not for a greedy deed. No, for someone in need, for someone you trust. Without even thinking much about it.

Your heartcount is the only thing that make you unique, your heartcount is the only reason you're wanted. But to some? But to some, you're you, and that is quite enough.

When there is endless conflict, it is hard to remember there was once peace. In quiet moments, when you lie all alone, or stand among people. Talking, fishing, existing.

This world, this world knows all you need is to let the handle of your sword press into your palm, that all you are is just a sharp edge waiting to cut.

But to some? But to some you're a familiar face during a battle, a comforting embrace in endless dust, a kind voice to calm their mind.

All you had ever known was war. All you had ever known was that you are destined to fight, that when helpless you throw yourself at the enemy's weapon.