The funeral music chimed in the air, casting a dark, solemn tone over the grieving people.

Long story short, Rui was dead. Nobody really knows how he died.

Now a picture of him sat propped up on a coffin. His signature grin as soft as ever, eyes shining.

The last time you saw him, his eyes were dead. The gentle glow nowhere to be found.

He was destined to be a director. Yet withered under criticism. The pressure to be normal. The constant backlash of his wild ideas got to his head.

Emu and Nene sobbed in the background, yet it was just white noise for you, a faint audio that never reached your ears.

Rui Kamishiro was dead.

You sat at your desk, staring at your work. On the calendar by your desk, it was june, the 24th circled in bright red pen. Rui's birthday was soon.

You hadn't done this in a while, done something you loved so much. But it didn't bring the same joy to you anymore, knowing Rui would never see it. That he would never congratulate you.

Tired, you turned around to go to bed.

And stopped in your tracks.

You saw him-HIM, standing in the corner of your room, eyes the same dead as before, his skin pale and sickly.

His catlike smile still there, yet drooping ever so slightly. It was terrifying, dried blood down his chin and his clothes bloodstained. You hadn't seen him in years, yet here he stood, a dead man resurrected.

And he was staring right at you.