«I realized that his hand was on top of my head, his fingers intertwined with the strands of my hair. He had stopped in mid-act as I regained lucidity―but it was enough for me to realize that he was patting my head and messing up my hair.

It was something he used to do when we were children, whenever I was flustered and scared. He did it as we sat together after the long days of our early battle training. Those days were filled with many mistakes, made while learning the art of the sword. Those nights were filled with the beatings that followed, from both instructors and fellow recruits alike.

He would mess up my hair, as we sat side by side in the coming dusk, and try to make me smile. He would tell me that we would make it through, and that it would all be okay in the end.»

Chapter III — Yona For Juuni 1st Art Festival