I do not own Digimon.

...anddddd we have a pulse! Enjoy this chapter!

"Life is good, or life is bad. Is there anything in the middle? Can life be 'sort of good' or 'sort of bad'? How do you know when it's getting better or worse?

Or is life just life? And there's nothing we can do?"

She'd seen him walk away before.

He'd walked away after bringing her home from one of their dates, when they were young and foolish and in love. He'd walked away to greet the guests at their wedding, terrified of meeting her French relatives. He'd walked away to grab two-year-old Yamato before he ran off into the street. He'd walked away after they fought over the bills. Over work. Over the boys. He'd walked away after he'd told her he'd had enough.

And now, he was walking away, for the last time.

And he was taking Yamato with him.

Natsuko had seen this before; in reality, and in her nightmares. She remembered watching Hiroaki leave, and she remembered the way that little seven-year-old Yamato looked back at her, brokenly, as though he hoped she would dash forward and stop them from leaving. Stop everything from going so wrong.

But she couldn't. It killed her, it strangled the hope out of her, but this was her reality now. There was no longer a man who promised to love her forever. There was no longer a family of four, with two happy parents and two beautiful boys. There was no longer a dream.

There was nothing left.

Except…no.

There was something.

Even in her numbness, even in her disbelief, she felt the tiniest fingers gripping her hand. She felt something keeping her tied to the world, tied to life, even though she didn't want to be.

Takeru.

He was three-and-a-half, and sobbing, and screaming for Daddy. For Nii-chan.

But he was there. He was real. He was hers.

He hadn't collapsed and withered and died, like the rest of her dreams. He was there. He was a purpose.

He was hope.

She squeezed his little hand, turning her swimming eyes to look down at him, to gaze upon the golden baby that would be her salvation—

Natsuko's eternity froze.

Takeru was gone.

She stared in disbelief at her hand, which only a moment ago felt chubby fingers clinging to her. It began to shake with the force of her heartbreak.

"Takeru…" she whispered, or would have, if she had been able to breathe. Her head whipped around, facing one direction, then the other, vertigo tickling her brain cells.

But she didn't care.

She spun, looking every which way, searching for golden hair and blue eyes and finding nothing but grey fog and loneliness.

"Takeru!"

She stumbled ahead, not knowing if she was running or walking or breathing or going mad. When had she tripped? She braced her hands against the cold ground, the spiraling world overwhelming her.

"Where are you, baby? Where are you?!" she shrieked, the words cutting her throat.

It was all in vain.

Takeru was gone.

The world ended.

"…Mom? Mom, c'mon. Seriously." An irritated sigh. "Mom, wake up."

Natsuko Takaishi grimaced and gasped, jilted very suddenly from a deep sleep.

She pried her eyes open the slightest bit, half expecting to see that horrific, cold fog and wanting to sob at the idea of it. When she instead saw her bedroom window shades and the pile of laundry that was by now embarrassingly high, she deflated with immeasurable relief.

It had been a dream. Takeru had not disappeared. He was safe in the apartment somewhere. Safe.

She released a sigh and rubbed a hand down her sweaty face.

"…um…Mom? You…okay?"

Natsuko turned her head, wincing as her neck cracked, and strained to see in the dimly lit room.

Yamato stood by the bed, gazing at her with an expression that said "I'm determined, but I feel awkward about it." He looked flustered, hands in his pockets, glaring down at the carpet.

Natsuko frowned. Was she still dreaming? Yamato hadn't woken her up since he was seven. Had she gone back in time, somehow?

"Yamato?" she questioned, raspy-voiced. She rubbed one tired blue eye. "What's the matter? Is everything…?" Her heart suddenly thudded in her chest. "Is Takeru-!"

"You seriously don't feel how cold it is in here?" Yamato responded disbelievingly, pulling his hands out of his pockets to rub them together for warmth. She noticed that he was still wearing his winter coat.

She blinked, brain too muddled from having just been dead asleep to comprehend. "…what, son? Cold?"

"Yeah, you can't tell? There's no heat. The power's out. It's out in the whole building. We had to take the stairs up here because the elevators aren't running."

"What?" she sat up, and regretted it instantly when the blankets fell from her shoulders and she was hit with a wave of frigid air.

She trembled against her will and flailed a hand out for her plush robe.

"What do you mean, the power's out? The power's out in the city?"

Yamato shook his head. "Power's fine at Dad's place. The streets are okay, too. It looks like it's just your building."

Natsuko cursed under her breath. Great. Just her luck.

She pushed aside the blankets and wrapped her frigid self in her robe, searching for her slippers and seeing them nowhere. This was just excellent. She'd have to get ready for work in the dark and she couldn't make coffee or even toast and—

"Mom."

Natsuko huffed, interrupted from her inner grumblings by her oldest son. A thought suddenly struck her.

"Wait…Yamato, what are you even doing here so early? You have school, don't you?" She thought it was Friday, or…maybe it was Saturday? Or was he on break? Or…? Did she really not have it together this badly?

His face took on a steely expression. "Patamon called me. He said he knew something was wrong when…when Takeru started shivering and he wouldn't stop." His jaw clenched. "So we came over to see what was up."

Her head shot up at that.

"Takeru? What's wrong with Takeru?" She tied her robe's sash and swept past him, headed for the living room. "And why didn't Patamon just wake me up? I was right there. He didn't need to call you."

She hadn't meant for so much annoyance to seep into her voice when she said it, but it did annoy her. How Takeru's digimon seemed to always defer to Yamato with matters of his well-being instead of her. How Patamon always asked her "Do you think we should call Yamato?" She was his mother, for crying out loud.

She shook her head. She knew it couldn't be helped; it was all because of the Digital World, and there was nothing for it.

Still. It hurt sometimes.

Yamato offered no answer as they entered the living room.

Taichi is there, and Gabumon. They are both kneeling on the floor in a huddle. It takes her a moment to realize that they are huddled around Takeru.

Her youngest son was trembling from the cold, despite the multitudinous blankets that were failing at the task of keeping him warm. Taichi, in his winter coat just as Yamato was, had his arms wrapped around him from behind, trying to warm him. Gabumon did the same from the front. Patamon was nuzzling his chilly, white face.

It didn't matter. Despite being enveloped in blankets and people and digital monsters, Takeru was simply too thin and sickly to tolerate a heatless apartment. His shivering perpetuated.

"Uh, good morning, Takaishi-san!" Taichi offered uncertainly, unable to wave because of his occupied arms. "Yamato and I were cramming for a test all night, so…we were already together, so I came over too. I, uh…I hope that's cool?"

"D-d-don't s-s-s-say 'c-c-cool,'" Takeru stammered out. His eyes were screwed shut. "It d-doesn't help."

"Takeru, honey?" Natsuko knelt down beside him, alarmed at how violently he trembled. She felt his face; it was like ice. "Mon amour, are you alright?"

He peeled his eyes open and managed a shaky smile for her sake. "I'm o-okay, M-m-mama. Just…c-c-cold."

"I should say so." She rested her fingers on the back of his white hand. "You're freezing, little one."

She stood and made her way to the space heater that sat in the corner. Sure enough, it was silent and frozen to the touch. A glance toward the kitchen showed her that the digital clocks had all gone black. She had no idea what time it was; she could be late for work right now, and have no clue.

And her sick boy was chilled to the bone.

She cursed again.

She turned back around just in time to see Yamato kneel down and pull his brother into his arms, rubbing his hands up and down Takeru's arms, trying to create some sort of heat. Taichi backed off, but the two digimon didn't stop their own administrations.

Yamato leveled her with a fierce look.

"He can't stay here. It's too cold; he'll get sick."

Takeru shook his head. "N-n-nii-san. It's—"

"Don't tell me it's okay. It's not okay. You're frozen solid." His voice softened. "It's not good for you."

"Your brother's right, darling," Natsuko interjected, hugging herself for warmth. She really wished she had found her slippers earlier. "You need to be somewhere warm. And since we have no idea how long we'll be without power…" she stepped over to the window, looking out at the happy, warm people who had power and didn't have sick children. "You'll just have to go to your father's for the day."

It was about time that Hiroaki started doing something to help her out…

Yamato nodded. "Looks like you're headed to Dad's, buddy. I'll help you pack." Gabumon and Patamon headed to Takeru's bedroom to start.

Natsuko sat on the couch for a moment, thinking. Okay, Takeru was going to Hiroaki's place, which meant that she'd have to drive him over…what time was it? How much time did she have to get ready for work? She hadn't even showered! Would she have time to stop somewhere for coffee? The coffee at the office was terrible. And what if Takeru comes down with something? He's already sick enough, without catching a cold. If he did catch a cold, would he…be okay? Or what if—

"…hey. I have a crazy idea."

She looked up, pulled from her inner monologue by the sound of Taichi's voice. She'd forgotten he was even there.

Yamato gave him a look. "Why doesn't that surprise me."

Her son's best friend shot him a look right back. "Hey, just listen, alright?" He then turned to look at her, and then at Takeru. "Teek, how do you feel about…staying over at my place for the day? Agumon and Tailmon are there, I'm sure Gabumon and Patamon would love to visit them. And my mom will be there the whole day, to be your personal nurse!" He lowered his voice and peeked down the hall. "The digimon are great and all, but it'd probably be good for a real human to be around, for a change. And then we'll get out of school, and we'll be back in time for my mom to go to her cooking club."

Yamato frowned at him. "Your mom is in a cooking club? But…her food is…"

Taichi shrugged. "I know. We don't get it either."

Natsuko cradled her head in her hand, processing too many things at once. "Um, Taichi…that's a lovely offer, but…" She felt very uneasy about simply saying to Yuuko-san 'Here, take my kid. Thanks.' It made her feel…even more irresponsible than she already felt.

"It's no trouble, I promise!" Taichi waved a hand. "My mom really misses Takeru! Because, you know, he used to come over a lot. She's always saying that…" His countenance darkened. "…that it's a shame that such a nice kid could…get so sick."

Takeru stared at him, seeming to ponder his words in his mind. Yamato simply tightened his hold on his brother and said nothing.

Natsuko felt a vine of fear constrict her heart, the way it always did when she thought about her son's illness.

Her son's mysterious, undiagnosable, untreatable illness.

She willed her eyes not to well up.

The room was silent. Until:

"…I would love to see Agumon and Tailmon again," Takeru murmured, finally warm enough to stop shivering. He smiled. "And Hikari. I'd even consider trying Yagami-san's choco-strawberry ramen."

Yamato smirked, and Taichi scratched the back of his head. "Now now, let's not get too crazy."

Takeru squeezed his brother's arm, smile genuine in his thin face, and then he turned his blue eyes on her. "Can I, Mom? Please?"

He said it with such exhausted hope that Natsuko wondered if she'd ever be able to say no to him again.

"…hope is like a hand, stretching and reaching out into the darkness, searching, searching, searching—"

"Takeru-kun, honey! Do you need any more water?"

Takeru blinked, looking up from his notebook and toward the sound of Yagami-san's voice. "Oh, um…" A glance toward the coffee table told him that his glass was, indeed, empty, but he didn't want to trouble her. "No, Yagami-san, I'm fine, thank you!"

"Actually, yes, he does need some more water, Taichi and Hikari's mom!" Patamon butted in, giving him an unimpressed look before taking flight toward the kitchen to retrieve the beverage.

Takeru pouted. "Traitor."

He was currently taking up residence on the Yagamis' couch, in their blessedly warm apartment. The car ride over had worn him out and caused him to sleep for a few hours (it was honestly sad how little energy he had these days), but he had woken an hour ago, glad to be able to feel his toes again.

The night before had been…a challenge. The apartment lost power around 4:00 am, and though the lights had been out at the time, he knew immediately that something was wrong when the space heater – the object that provided him warmth, since his own body wasn't able to – went dead.

He'd tried to tough it out, but it wasn't long before the warmth of his sickbed dissolved and left him helplessly cold. It didn't help that it was January, and that Japanese apartments are notoriously known for being ridiculously cold in the winter.

Gabumon had wrapped him in his furry arms, but he was no longer able to fit entirely in his arms the way he had when he was seven. It only helped so much. Patamon finally called Yamato at around 7:00. Thank goodness that Taichi had been with him and had offered his apartment to him; going to his Dad's would have been fun, but he was very glad to be back in the Yagami apartment. It made him feel like nothing had changed.

Except as soon as he finished that thought, he got that strange feeling in his chest that he'd been getting a lot lately that made it feel like he couldn't get a lot of air in his lungs, and he took a few breaths for good measure.

Okay…maybe some things had changed.

Takeru laid down his notebook on the coffee table and rested back against the pillows. His head felt kind of strange, like it wasn't steady on his neck. He looked around him.

Tailmon was lounging on the back of the couch, head resting on her gloved paws, tail swishing and wooshing occasionally back and forth. Her eyes were closed, but she still seemed oddly alert.

Agumon and Gabumon sat side by side on the living room floor, both of them watching him diligently (always, always was he being watched). Except they both looked at him in a different way. Agumon was looking at him as though he was trying to make some kind of sense of him, while Gabumon gave him an unreadable look that he had seen a thousand times on his Onii-san's face.

"Okay, here we go—"

Yagami-san entered the room, kneeling down to replace the empty glass by his side with a fresh one. She wiped her hands on her apron and grinned down at him, seeming sure and calm. In that moment, she looked so much like Taichi.

Patamon, meanwhile, came to rest on the back of the couch beside Tailmon.

"Thanks for your help, Pata-chan!" Yagami-san said, giving his partner the thumbs up. "And you, Takeru-kun! You're looking a little less pale than you did when you arrived. That's great!" Her smile was encouraging; now she looked just like Hikari. "Maybe if you're feeling better later, you can try some of my Asparagus Surprise! Well, the asparagus isn't actually the surprise, but—oh dear, is something burning? You keep resting, Takeru-kun!" And she raced off to save her burning muffins.

Takeru watched her go and couldn't help but laugh. "She's amazing," he said after she had left.

Patamon nodded. "She's really nice! She calls me 'Pata-chan!'"

In his quiet way, Gabumon stood and picked up the glass, handing it to Takeru. "You must drink some, Takeru."

Takeru grinned cheekily at his brother's digimon. "Even here, you're the water police, 'Gabu-chan.'"

Gabumon blushed and sat back down, when Agumon suddenly spoke up. "Takeru?"

"Hm?"

Agumon tapped his chin with a claw thoughtfully. "Can I ask you a question?"

"You just did." Tailmon stretched, emerging from her catnap.

"Oh. Well, can I ask you another question?"

Takeru laughed and then stopped himself when his chest ached. "Of course."

The orange dinosaur tilted his head at him inquiringly before asking "What's it like being sick?"

He felt like something had hit him.

The smile slipped from his face. His hands gripped the glass like it was a security blanket.

Patamon climbed into his lap. "Takeru?"

Tailmon sighed and shook her head. "Really, Agumon? You have no tact at all!"

Agumon looked baffled at the sudden tenseness of the conversation, but he spoke genuinely. "It's not like that! It's just…I've never been sick before. I've had stomach aches, sure. But I've never been sick, so I don't know how it feels." He looked at Gabumon. "Is it like the feeling you get when you digivolve wrong?"

A colossal skeletal dinosaur flashed across Takeru's memory.

Gabumon shook his head. "I was sick, once, in the snowy forest. I just felt like sneezing a lot." He turned his gaze on Takeru. "But Takeru's illness is different."

Takeru stared down at the still water in his glass, at a loss as for what to say. How did it feel to be sick? As in…how did it feel to be chronically ill? How was he supposed to answer that? How did it feel physically? Or…emotionally? Or…?

Truthfully…he tried his hardest not to feel anything. He tried not to think about it too hard. He usually just focused on writing his story, and on making sure his mom and his brother didn't worry too much.

But with Agumon's question…thoughts pervaded his mind against his will.

"Being sick must feel like…" Tailmon started, gaze turned away in thought. "…like being lost. Like…like not knowing where you are. Where your friends are." A haunted look passed her face, and she turned back to the group. "Is that what it feels like, Takeru?"

Takeru stared at her, trying to think of some way to articulate his thoughts. Some way to explain what he felt…

"Wow. This is an awfully deep conversation. Do you guys always talk about things like this while we're at school?"

All five of them turned at Hikari's voice, Tailmon leaping off the couch to greet her.

Hikari caught the cat digimon in her arms and smiled. "You don't know how good it is to see you here again, Takeru."

Takeru smiled back, sincerely glad both to see her and to get out of the conversation. "I hope you won't miss your couch." He sprawled himself out. "It's mine now."

She smirked. "You know what, that's fine. If it means I can see you more often." She placed Tailmon back on the floor with a mischievous look in her eye. "You know, guys…I think there may be some snacks in my bag by the shoe rack…"

At that, Agumon and Patamon raced off, followed by a more controlled Gabumon and a Tailmon who was clearly aware of the fact that Hikari was just trying to get them to leave so she could talk to Takeru alone.

"How was school?" Takeru asked her as she took a seat by his feet at the other end of the couch. "And where are Taichi and Onii-san?"

She leaned back and made herself comfortable. "They're getting us a bite to eat." She looked him in the eye. "You're gonna try to eat some, right?"

His smile became a caricature. "Maybe." It meant probably not.

She knew what it meant too, and she sighed and looked away. She fiddled with the hem of her skirt before speaking.

"…listen. I heard what you and the digimon were talking about…"

Takeru felt his stomach drop.

"…and I want to know, too." She looked at him with an expression that held too many emotions to pick a dominant one. "What does it feel like to be sick?"

Takeru scoffed at that, feeling a chill and wrapping himself deeper in the blankets. "That's a funny question, coming from you." He looked at her and remembered the feverish girl he had taken care of in the Digital World. "You've been sick plenty of times. You probably know even better than I do."

But she shakes her head. "No. I know how I felt." Her voice was steely before it became very soft. "I want to know how you feel."

There it was again.

What does it feel like?

How do you feel?

He wanted to say that he felt fine, or that he didn't feel anything, or that he didn't know how he felt, because in reality, he did feel something. But it was something he didn't want to think about. Something he didn't want to share.

Something bad.

Something terrifying.

Takeru turned to look out toward the window. The shades were drawn, revealing the city skyline, the pale blue winter sky, and the sun, hot and bright, descending on its downward path.

…just like him.

Yes…that's it. That was how he felt.

He saw Hikari shift in his peripheral vision. "Takeru?"

He couldn't tear his gaze from the sky. So he invited her in.

"Look outside, Hikari. Do you see the sun?"

She turned, and saw. "I see it. But…what about it?"

The brightness began to burn his eyes, but he was transfixed. Like the first time something sees its reflection.

"Do you see how it's sinking in the sky?"

She didn't nod or speak, but he knew that she saw.

"That's how I feel…like I'm sinking."

The sun slipped behind a cloud and was gone.

Hikari grabbed his hand.

It was a little after 10 pm before Natsuko finally found herself in front of the Yagami's door.

She'd tried to get out early – she really had this time – but Shinsuke-san had called in sick, so she had to cover his article, and then the internet bugged out because of course it did, and then she had to go back to the apartment to see if the power was back on, which it was, except it would still take a little while for the heat to fully come back, and…well. Here she was.

She needed a coffee.

Natsuko sighed wearily, running a hand through her hair, making it even frizzier than she was sure it already was. Her eyes felt dry like paper, and she wished she could take out her contact lenses. Her feet ached from walking in high heels. Why did she even wear high heels?

She knocked on the door softly, mindful of the late hour, and cursed her tardiness again.

Hikari answered, dressed in pajamas, but obviously not having turned in for the night yet. She greeted Natsuko quietly, and gestured for her to come inside.

"Welcome back," she murmured. "Takeru is sleeping right now, I think."

Natsuko nodded and removed her shoes. Takeru was sleeping? As in, he wasn't feeling well? Or was he just taking a nap? Or had he fainted again?

Calm down, she told herself, trying to stop the mayhem in her head. He's sleeping. He's just sleeping.

The living room was dark, except for the light from the television, which was bright enough to make her wince.

Yamato and Taichi were lounging on the floor in front of the couch, controllers in hand, playing some video game with the volume on low. Taichi seemed to be putting his whole body into it, twisting and veering this way and that to mimic the movements of his character.

Yamato, on the other hand, was remarkably still, probably because Takeru's head was only inches from where he leaned against the couch, and he didn't want to wake his brother.

Both boys were silent, but it was obvious by the scowls they both wore that they really wanted to be trash-talking one another right now.

"Bonjour, boys," she greeted them. She saw Yuuko-san standing in the kitchen doorway and waved.

"Oh, hi, Takaishi-san. Bonjour!" Taichi replied in a poorly-accented attempt at French, but she appreciated the effort.

They paused the game, and Taichi said something about grabbing something from his room, but he probably just left to give them some privacy. Hikari followed him.

Natsuko knelt down by the couch, stroking blond hair out of Takeru's sleeping face, and turned to her other son. "How is he?"

Yamato sighed, putting down the game controller and facing her. He frowned. "He was a little warm earlier." He lifted a hand and felt his brother's face. "And he didn't feel well enough to eat."

She frowned to match his. "But he didn't eat earlier, either."

"Yeah. I know."

Natsuko shook her head, continuing to stroke her son's hair. She felt a headache brewing.

More bad news, on top of everything else.

Out of the blue, a lump came to her throat, and if she were not so good at hiding her feelings, her eyes may have filled with tears.

They didn't; she remained calm, asked Yamato to help get Takeru ready to leave, and headed to the kitchen to talk to Yuuko-san.

But it didn't stop the feeling of raw helplessness from doing strange things to her heart. Strange, painful things.

Yuuko-san was in a bathrobe, cradling a mug of tea. She was smiling, as always, but she obviously wanted to call it a night. It made Natsuko feel like a great inconvenience.

"You…you don't know how much of a help you've been today, Yuuko-san," she said, bowing her head. "Really. I…I'm so sorry for troubling you."

What had Taichi said that morning? 'It'd probably be good for a real human to be around, for a change.' He hadn't meant anything by it, but all the same, it sounded like an attack. Like an accusation that she should be around more.

She wanted to be around more, damn it. But there were deadlines, and bills, and—

"Ah, Natsuko-san!" Yuuko-san grinned and put down her mug. "It was no trouble at all. The opposite, really. Takeru and I had a great day with the digimon!" She looked wistfully off toward the living room. "Takeru is a wonderful boy. It…it makes me sad, to see him sick." She gave Natsuko a solemn look. "I'll help any way I can."

Again, a lump came to Natsuko's throat. Again, she gathered every shred of self-control so she could to keep herself together.

"Thank you. That's—" she cleared her throat. "That's kind."

She felt hot. Was it hot in here?

Yuuko-san seemed to be watching her, pondering something.

Natsuko looked back uncomfortably for a moment before glancing down at her watch. "Well, it's late. It's about time that we—"

"Natsuko-san."

She looked back up, an eyebrow raised at being addressed. "Yes?"

Yuuko-san hummed lowly for a moment before taking a step closer to her. Her voice was low, low enough only for the two of them to hear, when she asked:

"Natsuko-san…are you doing alright?"

Was it her eyes? The look of sympathy she gave her? The question nobody seemed to ever ask her?

She didn't know what it was, but it was enough.

Natsuko nodded out of instinct, prepared to say that yes, she was doing fine. What did normal, happy people say? Oh, she was just tired from work. A long day at the office. She needed a vacation. She was prepared to say all of these things.

She was not prepared for her chin to start wobbling or for her face to scrunch up or for her eyes to fill with tears and obscure the room in a blurry, desperate mess.

But it happened anyway.

She slapped a hand over her mouth, wrapping an arm around herself and trying, frantically, to stop crying.

She couldn't cry. She had to be strong. She had to be strong. She had to be—

Yuuko-san was suddenly there, wrapping her robed arms around her, holding her in respectful, empathetic silence.

Something in her broke.

Natsuko buried her face into the thick robe, clung to Yuuko-san, and finally allowed tears of exhausted, angry, lonely helplessness to fall.

"Yuuko-san…" she stammered out, hoping beyond hope that the kids couldn't hear her. What would happen if they saw her? For some reason, it only made her cry harder.

Yuuko-san held her tighter.

"Yuuko-san, I…" she expelled a sharp breath, "I don't know w-what to do. The bills, and…I have to work all day, and…he's sick. I can't even be here to take care of him, and he's so sick."

Her heart was being wrung like a towel, ripped and torn into and pulled apart as if by ravenous crows.

She remembered the dream from last night – running, running through the cold fog, searching, searching – and realized that it was coming true.

Her nightmare was coming true.

"Why is he so sick?" she questioned Yuuko-san. And the universe. And anyone who would bother listening. "Why can't anyone tell me what's wrong with him? Why can't anyone tell me how to make him better?"

She sensed, more than heard, Yuuko-san's tears.

It didn't matter. She was too far gone.

"…why can't anyone tell me why my baby is sick? Why can't anyone tell me if he's going to be okay?"

Why couldn't anyone tell her that her marriage would fail?

Why couldn't anyone tell her that her family would fall apart?

Why couldn't anyone tell her that her dreams would die?

Why did this have to happen?

…why Takeru?

Yuuko-san shook her head.

Even she had no answers.

Natsuko felt the world go back to dark, cold, hopeless fog.

She wondered what dreams were even for.