He remembered days of laughter.

There was blood and sweat and tears, too – many tears – but laughter…more than anything; daylight and camp nights filled with it. Was it ironic that the source of most of the tears was one and the same for laughter? He hadn't thought it so at the time but now he might reconsider it. Or view it as some kind of profound and foreboding warning.

Or something.

He couldn't really think rationally through all the noise.

He should be annoyed – severely so – at the complete disregard for the importance of drills. He should march right up like he had done so many times in the past and smack some obedience and respect into the little snot-faced, blathering idiot laughing his guts up all over the training grounds. But he was strangely frozen, able only to watch and just be so damn glad he still could after all these years. And then sensei and Rin joined and they overpowered anything else he might have been trying to think up.

Even though he was surrounded by the sound, the feeling of being an outcast was just as strong now as he had remembered it then. Despite all his talent and skill and genius, he'd always been the one on the outside.

There was a brutal storm coming judging by the strong winds and ugly clouds. He glanced away from the sky back to the three. He shouted, waved his arm to get their attention.

Hurry! The storm would be upon them in minutes! They had to get away!

But they didn't budge; never ceased their endless display of amusement – joy – at the simple delights of life. The wind raged. He gripped onto the tree that had been keeping him company, battling the storm. And even as the wind picked him up and he shouted his voice hoarse, the only noise to register in his ears was the glorious sound of their happiness.

His little hands were nothing compared to the wrath of nature and his battle was soon lost, his grip following. And as he tumbled through the torrent of nature, he watched as they faded, their laughter finally dieing away. He reached for them, still driven by the need to warn them of the danger they couldn't see. But the phantom howl of the wind served him no longer and he was made deaf to their joy and laughter.

His body was giving out and dark was closing in; he was blind and deaf. He could resist no more and his body demanded rest. He drifted, unable to fight and let his sight fall. He didn't know if the blackness held anything more than the death it was offering. There were things he still wanted to do, but he supposed he would have to be alright with letting go here. He had little choice.

But…

He remembered laughter.

He remembered happiness, even if it wasn't his own, as the night descended. Warm arms held him as his awareness faded and the sum of it all finally lulled him to sleep.

He remembered thinking spring must be close.