#yoko?

olvide que estos debia subirlos aqui hace ufff, para que no muera :’U! 

la primera nena es de @sheikasherar

If Minamino Shuichi is to explain his experience of growing up, he might feel incline to say, it is much alike reading a book written by two authors and done so in the language each has self-invented where only at your co-author's mercy you come to recognize their written alphabets, how they are formed, the pronounciation to each and the meaning behind. Many of the chapters are already written while some is being left with a gap where the cunningness of the mind behind demands a more canny approach to which those may be revealed, or in some, written over.

Hazy, his memories may prove to be at time; inexplicable, particular knowledge and traits can be perceived at times; certain, he is, however, of the name to the other soul that has helped shaping this written work that comes to be Minamino Shuichi as he is now. It is in that name that a quiet whisper is sounded on one particular afternoon as he leans over the edge of the pond in the park near his house. The date, as is known by his family and friends, bears the mark of the day he has turned twelve. He has voiced that name many times before. Sometime, it stirs an answer.