The colors.

The feelings.

The rushes.

The fears.

All of it, flowing so suddenly, brings life into these missing pieces of mine. The thoughtless thoughts that flood the very being of what makes me, me. As I pick everything back up, gluing it together like a brick to a toy house, I can't help but wonder:

Will I end up the same as always, or will I be unrecognizable?

John: "Come on...! We've got to be...almost there!"

The bristles and leaves and bushes and trees did nothing to stop the momentum I had carried with me. My speed, combined with the little girl's weight, made for a special type of, "I don't think I can ever stop running", which became my sole reason for the sprint. By now, I was definitely far enough away from the Monster to be considered safe. To be honest, there likely wasn't a single spot in that forest that truly was safe, and yet, this had to be among the safest.

It wasn't that realization that halted my movement, however. Instead, it was the sudden affirmation that we, the fleeing kids, were not the ones who needed to be safe in that moment.

Girl: "My...brother..."

John: "Huh?!"

Girl: "Please—"

Her eyes welled up with tears, and one of her tiny hands reached out to pull on my frizzled hair. It wasn't enough force to bring me down to the ground, but it was enough to catch my attention.

Girl: "—Go back! We have to say my brother!"

John: "You're kidding me!"

The shift in weight allowed me a bit of breathing room, and with that, I could come to a stop. But, still, even if my legs could halt their movement, my pounding heart seemed to only raise its speed at the girl's declaration. A brother? Where? At what point could he have—

John: "Alright, I'll go back!"

I lowered the girl to the floor, and though she wasn't all that much shorter than me, the difference in age seemed enough to boost my willpower; it felt like I was doing something for somebody who was close to me. Like she was some sort of a—

John: "Here, take this."

Sifting through my pockets, I pulled out a small green crystal with an odd shape to it. From a flat perspective, you could say it looked like a circle with two triangles pressed against the top and bottom, forming a split-diamond. From the true perspective, it looked like two gem cones infused with a sphere, creating something akin to a mirrored pyramid. The sphere itself was—well, a sphere—but each cone was split into seven sections, or faces.

The significance behind that, I can't recall. Its description might not have any significance whatsoever, but all I can remember is that it was, even for this world, strange. Wrong. Different. Abnormal. Something so blatantly off was nothing to be ignored.

In however many ways it was off, it was equally as important to me. Though I can't quite remember why, I can at least understand that it protected me. Either physically, or emotionally, that green crystal had been my savior far often than I'd like to admit. And now, it could save someone else. Or, at least, act as a placebo for protection.

Girl: "A...gemstone?"

John: "I've carried it with me for almost two years now. You can believe me when I say, it'll be more than enough to keep you safe."

I placed the gemstone into her small hands, and quickly reassured her of its hidden talent. Even if she didn't believe me, or if I didn't believe myself, just having something that somebody can say "protected them" is more than enough assurance for those under pressure. When you're truly in dire need of something—some sort of affirmation that everything will be okay—even the most nonsensical words and devices become as a cure-all. 

That gem represented such an affirmation. A statement that said, "so long as I am with you, you will be okay in the end". As it was passed from my hands to hers, I felt that affirmation leave my mind, becoming entrusted to the terrified little girl who trembled before me.

John: "I don't need it. Not right now."

As I turned to leave her with an affirmation of my own, ensuring the safety of her brother, another thought popped into my head, which I quickly relayed to her.

John: "—But, please, give it back when this is over?"

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

What was it again? A symphony? A song of death, echoing through the wind, as the clash between man and beast continued endlessly in the dark and bloodied forest. If it were to be described any simpler, the battle would surely lose all meaning in my records. To all outward appearances, this was a symphony orchestrated by a woman with incredible speed and precision, and a Monster with brute strength and a missing arm.

To all outward appearances, this was a battle.

To all outward appearances, this was a struggle between life and death.

To the Monster, this was a feast waiting to be slain.

To Connie, this could only be known as retribution.

To Connie, this was a second chance.

Connie: "This one's next!"

An opportunity was created, and the Monster's only remaining arm was left unguarded, in the open, within perfect slicing distance for her rapier. Connie took aim in an instant, and just as quickly as she had done the first time, swung in an upwards motion to take off the beast's arm. This time, however, it was not the arm that came falling to the ground.

Connie: "—ghk!"

At the instant the rapier made contact with the Monster's arm, the thin metal of the blade cracked, and cracked, and cracked, and then shattered, bisecting her only weapon just as fast as it made contact. The length of Connie's blade, with seemingly no warning as to when it would happen, had just lost half of its firepower, dealing nothing more than a small dent to the Monster's arm.

The missing half of the rapier, spinning wildly through the air, had landed perfectly straight up in the ground, embedded forever within the stained soil of the Monster's lair. With one's only weapon having been reduced to half of its strength, the most optimal strategy for dealing with a Monster is retreat. Should Connie have even an ounce of self-preservation left in her, this song and dance would continue no longer.

Connie: "Shit! What do I—"

A rustle in a canopy of leaves above gave way for a distraction, as the Monster's attention suddenly snapped to the random noise directly above its creeping head. Another opportunity for the woman; this time, it is one to allow her an escape. A wise person would take this chance and flee, having secured the lives of John Ordano and the terrified little girl. All it would cost is the life of another.

Connie: "You're kidding me!"

Clinging to the flaking branches, just a few feet above the giant Monster's head, there hid a boy who looked to be John's age, with a face just as terrified as the little girl's had been. A sacrificial lamb for the woman's escape, the boy's life would not be taken in vain. All it would take is one step in the opposite direction—one inclination towards stagnation, and one life would be traded for another.

And yet, as always—

Connie: "Hands off, bitch!"

With another curse thrown at the Monster, Connie leaped into the air at the Monster's outstretched arm, and with her blade of lesser range, swung at the bony fingers that sought the boy's death.

Monster: "GHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAYYGHHHHHHHHHHTHHHHH!!!"

Another cry of pain left the beast's tongue, and two of its fingers had been sliced off at a speed unobservable to the naked eye. The blade, at the moment of contact, once again, began to crack. With each crack, however, a finger came flying off.

First, the pinky finger, followed by a crack.

Then, the ring finger, and another crack.

And although the third point of contact would not slice all of the way through the middle finger, Connie's rapier survived long enough to cut through its bone before shattering once more.

A thumb, an index, and a swaying middle finger with no bone to keep it in control—this was all that the Monster was left with, after having its other arm amputated and its remaining arm maimed. The Monster, should it continue to fight even now, would surely have a tough time killing anything whatsoever.

And yet, all the same, its bloodlust persisted. Wailing in fear of its failure, the Monster swung its entire lanky arm around in the air, catching Connie at her landing spot, and launching her at an incredible speed to a nearby tree. The tree, now broken and split at the point it caught Connie with, supported nothing more than her weak legs could muster, and the young woman slumped down into a weakened sitting position, supported only by the tree which could be called nothing more than a stump at this point.

Ah, yes, and then, the loss of will.

On one side, there stood tall a Monster of charred skin, a missing arm, and a maimed hand with few functioning appendages. It slowly stomped towards its opposition, ignoring the terrified youth that hid unsuccessfully in the leaf canopy. The Monster's opposition, a young woman by the name of Connie Kaze, had now been rendered immobile, with her weapon being reduced to that of only a hilt. 

And yet, for the first time in a long time, the young woman smiled in the face of her death.