Upon the cherry blossom tree, you sat weeping to yourself; your parents had just died, as you were only 14 years old. Your weeping didn’t last for long until you saw the silhouette of a young boy, about the same age as you, in front of you. You look up to be met with dull teal eyes and a soft expression; it was the mist pillar.

”What happened there?” he asks, his voice soft but cold