He sat still in the dust, watching his own wispy white hair flow in the wind, even whiter and dead than it had been so many years ago. He didn't really care that dust was getting all over him. Komaeda just wanted to watch the remaining ashes sift around.

"Do you care to supply me with a reason of why you brought me to this place yet?" The voice from behind him caught Komaeda off guard, and he jumped a little, not really all that much from it being unexpected, but rather the sound of the voice alone always put him on edge. It sounded so warmly familiar, yet so fiercely rimmed with a dark sense of apathy, that sent a chill down his spine.

"I don't know you, and I don't know why we are here. Frankly, this whole concept of coming here with you… bores me." The voice droned on. Komaeda hated that voice. It sent his emotions in a flurry of disgust and despair, and at the same time false happiness. He knew it was false, because that underlying tone reminded him so much of Hinata… it made his heart race. But it wasn't Hinata. It was a tainted, cruel voice, and Komaeda wished he'd never have to hear it again.

Komaeda dusted off the burnt tree stump. It appeared they had cut down the burnt old tree. Bits of planks with poorly-drilled nails stuck out of them.

"Whoever had crafted this wooden structure, they are certainly a failure. This is boring garbage to me." The merciless dark voice spoke up again.

"No… I think it's a perfect craftsmanship job, actually." Komaeda finally spoke up.

"The structure that was here…"

"It was a tree fort."

"That childish, sloppily-crafted tree fort… it was special to you."

Komaeda looked back down to the ashes. "You could say that, yes."

The darkened person behind him huffed, and brushed his long, twisted black locks of hair away from his eyes. "As if that means anything to me. This is immensely boring, and I wish not to waste my time here any further. Tell me, why did you bring me here?"

"This tree was important to me, and now it's gone. And it was my fault, you know."

"This is an irrelevant fact."

Komaeda turned his head downwards. Locks of cloudy white hair tumbled around his face, and the young man behind him could not see his expression. It wasn't as though there was much of an expression anyways, only pain.

"You know… you were important to me too. More… than anything I've ever seen in my whole life. And it's my fault you're gone as well… and I'll never see you again… just my luck."

"Ridiculous. I don't know you. And I have yet to leave, although doing so seems significantly tempting-"

"I… wasn't talking to you."

The dark figure behind Komaeda glared down towards him, studying the other teenager. His face was down, but he could have sworn he saw something fall from his face. A teardrop? Ridiculous. The person before him was getting emotional for some reason. What garbage.

"I don't believe I understand what you imply."

Komaeda closed his eyes, allowing the wind to whistle through his hair again while he dropped the poster back in the ashes. He watched the wind carry the scrap of paper along the fence walls surrounding the ashen backyard.

"You wouldn't... Kamukura-san."