A myriad of tornadoes ravished a once verdant countryside. Cars, homes, people were ripped into the atmosphere at violent speeds. The tempestuous cyclones mercilessly tore apart their victims. These twisters were unnatural in their velocity... and their selectiveness. The sun had begun to burrow into the skin of the horizon several hours ago; its wounds flooded the sky, leaving it a mixture of crimson and orange sherbet. Hiroto watched rocks skipping across the crests of a slow-moving river beneath an overpass. Accompanying him was a girl in her school uniform: a tartan skirt and white dress shirt. She motioned for him to sit down, as he would always do this when he was in low spirits. “Did they do something to you again?” she asked, with her head now resting on his shoulder. Though he nodded weakly, it felt unnecessary, Ayame knew him better than anyone did. “Why don’t you fight back?” she said. “And end up like my brother?” he responded, causing her to remain silent for a few seconds. “I don’t even know how anyone else found out.” “Well... can’t you tell any of the teachers?” “I can’t rely on anyone. Not even you can get me out of this one,” he said, his fingers thoughtlessly ripping grass from its roots. Her lips pressed against his face, stopping a tear from running its course. As night came, they parted ways. Hiroto rode his bike, the streetlights overhead reflecting upon the winding river that led to his house. He entered his house, rested his keys on a nearby rack, and then went to look at his brother. Daisuke’s body appeared bruised and cut, a mass of bandages and stitches that lay in the corner, his closed eyes facing towards a rather large window. Hiroto felt a sense of pity tinged with fear. He stood there for several minutes, wondering if the same could possibly happen to him. Slowly he closed the door and prepared for sleep. The next morning, he awoke for school. The sky was a slate grey, and a light rain drizzled. As he stepped outside, a putrid smell overtook him. Hiroto ran from the porch, turning back to see the full extent of what had happened to the house. His jaw fell slightly, and had to stop himself from crumpling his hand into a fist. Across the edifice was the word ‘Murderer’ in scarlet, as well as broken eggshells and rotted yolk. The paint was still wet, and his vigilance heightened. They could still be close by. He went back to the entrance, grabbed his bike, locked the door and prayed for the safety of both himself and Daisuke. The tread of his tires left a wake as he sped towards school. He looked down at his watch; the bell would ring any minute now. Hastily he put up his bike and headed toward his homeroom through a crowd of people. Just as he was almost clear of everyone, something caught his hood. The force wrenched him onto the muddied ground. He felt warmth rushing down his face. They had begun kicking him, punching him, anything they could. Though he could barely open his eyes, he saw the sky darkening and trees shaking violently. “Sorry Daisuke, I guess I wasn’t as strong as you.” The sound of the lurching school gave him a bit of satisfaction. Then, everything was sucked into oblivion.