Lenora never met her real parents and the family that adopted her died in a terrible accident, leaving her to grow up with the sweet old couple who lived next door, who were more than happy to have the little 6 years girl to raise.
Despite her new...
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For the next week after the Great War For the World, -- that was how the tabloids decided to call it – the heroes and students who didn't return with complex wounds were recruited to help the civilians and the government to restore the area they destroyed while fighting.
On the Internet and newspapers the reporters could only talk about it; people all over the world were reading those articles like it was a comic book, not realizing real heroes fight with their lives for that peace. And a kid was killed by it.
That was the only fact Katsuki could think of during his hospital days.
He had half of his body stitched up, the right side of his face still covered in bandages and his heart completely broken. Every time he closed his eyes to try to catch some sleep, he kept seeing Lenora's bright smile, her hand waving at him from a distance. He tried to reach her all the time.
He could neither once.
He refused to let in his room his parents, his friends, his teachers, and his mentor.
He wasn't ready to deal with the reality of the situation.
He didn't want to keep living in a world where she wasn't there.
How could he keep going on without her simply existing?
He still had to figure it out.
He must do that.
Because she did what she did to give them another chance to pursue their dreams.
To live.
To be happy.
Right?
He took a deep breath, his face turned to the open window, where the sunset was as beautiful as ever, "I just needed you to be happy, dumbass," he whispered to her ghost, remembering how much she loved that moment of the day, "now I can go anywhere I want, just not home anymore..."
He lost the home he found with hard work, tears and blood, all in a single moment.
He lost the music in his life.
He lost her.
And he didn't even have the time to say goodbye.
He didn't have a body to mourn.
He didn't have a grave to cry on.
He didn't have anything.
Just the memories they created together, her books, her dusty movies, her bizarre clothes, her writing, her notebooks, her photos...all her stuff, but nothing that was quite enough like her.
Lifting his right hand, he took a long look at the ring on his pinkie, still shining for him. That was the closest thing that remained of her. In that small piece of metal, her magic was still vibrating, he could feel it, it was still alive, pulsing, warming him, remembering him she walked on that Earth and made it better even for only a moment.
