TRAGEDY | Shouyou Hinata (Murder of Crows) ✓

CHAPTER ONE

Shouyou Hinata was sat on the grass in his front garden, his body hunched forward against the pale sky. His flaming hair was stuck out from his head, having no direction, no order. Just chaos. Chaos and confusion.

You approached him slowly, walking as if too scared to leave behind footprints, knowing how easily they could be erased. "Hey... Hinata? Is it okay if I sit here?"

The boy looked up at you through muddy brown eyes, eyes that had lost their light, their colour. He managed a weak smile, lacklustre, like paint that had been mixed with too much water and now it was just a faint smudge on his face. He nodded.

You sat on the ground next to him, tucking your knees beneath you. The grass was still damp from the morning's unplanned rainfall, tangles of weeds poking through the soil and bedded with dew, but he didn't seem to care, so neither did you. You'd spent much of your childhood in this garden; it was one of those places that acted as a safety net in your head. When you were upset or troubled, your thoughts went back to this garden in search of peace.

There'd been a swing here once. You used to take it in turns to push each other, see how high you could get, to see over the jungle of slated grey rooftops, rooftops that had seemed like mountains to you at the time.

In the summer, you used to have picnics and do cartwheels out on the grass, and in winter you'd go out in your coats and wellies and make snow angels. Then you'd go inside and have hot milk and warm your feet by the fire. When he'd started to get into volleyball, you set up a net on the grass and took it in turns to set the ball to each other. You'd always been the better setter, but he was an incredible jumper and always managed to hit your tosses somehow.

But now it had been over a week since you'd seen him play volleyball. A week since you'd seen him smile properly. A week since you'd even held a proper conversation. Now he just sat and stared, straight ahead, like a broken toy with the pieces in the wrong places and no manual on how to patch him back up. He was broken. Something inside him had cracked.

Even his house had sunk into mourning now. It used to be so full of life and energy, with sunlight pouring through the windows and making smiles glitter and laughter shine. Now it just felt cold, infected with an endless winter, frozen over. It was always dark there now, the curtains always drawn, refusing to let light bleed into the house. It was just dark and cold and gloomy.

"How are you feeling today?" You asked, your voice shallow, shaky. He was so fragile you were scared to break him with your words.

His eyes dropped down to his hands. His fingers were bridged together, interlaced, as if he was holding his own hand. Perhaps he thought he was holding hers. "Okay," he said, his voice lilting. That was his answer every time, that's what he said every time you asked. Okay. I'm feeling okay. And yet nothing about him was okay, nothing about what had happened was okay. You both knew that, but you just didn't know what to do. You were losing your best friend and you didn't know how to get him back again.

"Natsu's in a better place now," you said quietly, keeping your head bowed in respect, "you know that right? She's somewhere that's always bright and happy."

"She might be. But I'm not," he whispered, the first time he'd answered you properly, answered you with emotion. Not that dull, broken voice. "I can hardly even smile anymore. It just hurts. Everything hurts."

He was like a stranger in his own life. Nothing was the same anymore. "Hinata..." your voice ebbed, throat drying up. You didn't know what to say to him. "I'm sorry."

He shook his head, orange hair swaying with the movement. "No. Don't apologise. I don't want you to feel responsible for any of this," he said, his voice still a whisper, low and desperate. He reached over and took your hand, an action that once might have made you blush and shy away. But his hands were so cold that you shivered instead. You felt no warmth, no life in his touch. "You've been a blessing, [Y/N]."