Shinji slowly fell forward onto his face. Debris bounced up on impact. It took less than thirty seconds for the rest of his body to die. The memento of his beloved uncle--the earring worn by the woman he loved--was now stained with the blood running down Shinji's left ear, reflecting the glow from the red flames of the farm building. And so the boy known as the Third Man, Shinji Mimura, was dead.
They tried to believe in their classmates. They must have believed that if we could all get together, then we might end up being saved. We should commend them for that. We couldn't do that.
Kazuhiko could have taken his gun and aimed it at the person behind them. But Sakura wouldn't want that. What she wanted was to leave this world quietly before they got sucked into this horrible massacre. Nothing was more important to him than her. There was no room for compromise. If this were what her trembling soul wanted, then he would follow her. Had he been more eloquent he might have described his feelings as something like, "I'm going to die for her honor." Their two bodies danced in the air beyond the cliff, their hands still clasped together, the black sea under them.
By then she was dead. In fact, she may have been dead a while ago. Physically, several seconds ago, mentally, ages ago.
Yes, just like those flowers. There's something strained, but there's beauty in that. Something like that
We're still on the run. That's for sure. Right on. This time we're on. And we won't stop till we win.
Hurry and you can have the big crybaby for first kill.
Cowards can't be faulted for being shy. They can't be held responsible for anything.
Silly boys. Did you think we were making a silent movie?
Now there's the Niida we all know and loathe.
On TV they keep their kids. Love them.
