#nobu1

No one would describe Flip as a smart man. And while some would walk into the haze at the edge of the city once and go, ‘Hey, that kinda hurt and now a day has passed and I’m in my bed, not gonna do that again’, Flip was not that somebody. 

In fact, he proceeded, at all available varying speeds his little legs would take him, to run into the haze. For a week. Regardless of his speed though, the results were always the same. 

He stuck his hand into it, watching it go transparent. From the corner of his eye he saw someone close enough to talk at. 

@owarinooutsuke​:

Humans die, but memories live on.

And sometimes, they burn. 

The tightness in his chest seems to sear at something inside, causing Yagen to clutch at his jacket. Or maybe he’s just short of breath. It wasn’t easy trailing his target through the winding streets and crooked turns. They’ve stopped now, her in front and him in back in what looks like a dead end. Red lanterns line both sides of the alley here as well, the candlelight casting long shadows against the walls.

He wants her to turn around again, just so he can see the familiar crest on her hat one more time. Maybe then his heart can settle. Maybe then the flames would stop. He thinks of history, and falters over change; his eyes invariably drop to the familiar scabbard at her side, violet irises reflecting flickers of uncertainty.

‘You’re from the Oda Clan, aren’t you?’