He couldn't take anymore.

He needed to get it out.

He needed to get it all out.

Tzukurui was sitting on a wooden chair, inside of his house, holding his black hair as he silently mourned his sister's death. His brown eyes were shaking, just like the whole rest of his body. "H.. Akira.." Tzukurui wiped away his tears and swallowed. Suddenly, his brown eyes shot open and he stood. He had to get it all out.

Tzukurui took the wooden table in front of himself and threw it across the room, making every single object on it fall and break. He punched the window and broke it, screaming as the glass cut his fist. "Cursed be this cruel world! why take the life of such an innocent and joyful soul!? Oh! person who created us, unworthy and merciless beings, do you have no pity for beings as young and naive as Akira!?" He shouted, his words muffled by the tears.