He ran, arms outstretched, into the garden maze lined with purple roses; his laughter – light and uninhibited – floating along the warm, summer breeze. Bruised, little legs pumped, propelling him forward as fast as he was able.

"Tom, Tom; he was the piper's son; he learnt to play when he was young!" The he sang, smile widening on slightly chubby cheeks, "But all the tune that he could play; was over the hills and far away!"

"Kyouya!" His sister called, "I can keep up, slow down!"

He turned on his heel – arms still outstretched but brandished with a flourish, as if he were a circus performer – and faced his older sister.

Her long, black hair was caught by the breeze, its locks appearing to float behind her as she ran, panting, with her trusted video camera in hand.

"You've got to run, Fuyumi!" He enthused, "Run, and run, and run; it's like you're flying! Nothing can hurt you!"

"You say that… as if you believe it…" Fuyumi panted, coming to a stop in front of her brother, "Running… doesn't solve anything…"

For a moment, his smile fell and settled into a frown, adding years he didn't have to his face and a tiredness to his eyes that he usually his so well; only for a passing moment before another smile took its place.

"You can pretend."

It was spoken softly, smile serene, while the tightness remained around his eyes.

"Over the hills and a great way off," He sang once more. Slower, sadder, than before but the tightness fading into a dreamy look, "The wind shall blow my top-knot off…"

"Kyouya?" Fuyumi questioned, an unexpected gust of wind blowing through her hair and caressing her face.

"I'm going to do it, Fuyumi," He promised, "Over the hills… That's where dreams come true and nothing can ever hurt you; I'm going to find it!"

Determination set his brow, a small fist clenching, and a victorious smirk curling his lips. Her eyes widened, having never before seen that look of her little brother's face before. "Kyouya…"

"Then he'll never hurt us again, sister. I promise."

Kyouya bolted upright in bed, his breath heavy.

"I don't need this tonight – or any night, for that matter," He thought, "I need sleep."

He raked a hand through his knotted, dishevelled hair and let out a shaky sigh.

"Idiotic memories," He murmured, his wide eyes becoming dull and half-closed, emotionless once more, "Just the pathetic delusions of broken children..."