There's anger in his footsteps as he dashes towards the lighted path.

Why?

His pace quickens as the adrenaline picks up and carries him forward, pushing him closer yet further from his goal. There's always a light at the end of the tunnel, right?

He looks away for one moment and he's gone. The action mimics a shark, and it scares him.

There's a moment where Yuma feels as though he jumped into a vast ocean, the weight of the water pushing down on him as he gasps for air. The watery embrace isn't pleasant and is increasingly asphyxiating as he pushes upwards.

Forward.

He's not swimming though, the thought running past him as nearly misses a step. There's a moment where he doesn't know why he's running, except for the sake of running. That feeling quickly changes to one of desperation, in order to escape the walls closing in on him.

Yuma reaches out to grab the hand that shows itself, except there is nothing but a illusion present in front of him. There's nothing there but the cold air that's still clawing at his neck.

There's still determination in his spirit as he strides forward, dashing up several flights of stone steps. It's eerily reminiscent of trailing up an endless mountain, scaling every path and peak as far as the eye can see. His legs are tired but he pushes onward.

This feels strange and it's scaring him.

He opens his mouth to speak, to yell at the top of his lungs. That name that once rolled off his tongue so easily. Now it barely escapes his mouth as little more than a whisper.

Is this what you want, Shark? He wants to say, but the words never don't come out. They are but a bitter silence that envelops the tiny boy's spirit, bringing his mad dash to a grinding halt.

Yuma's eyes scan the dark area, and for a moment he swears he spots that figure in the distance. However, in the next moment it's nothing but a blur in the corner of his eye. Is it all but a dream?

He shivers as a cold breeze circles by, sending chills throughout his body. He hugs his figure, desperately trying to keep himself safe and warm. There's a moment's hesitation before he's down on his knees, face buried in his hands as he lets out a choked sob.

"Why, Shark? Why did you-" His voice lowers to just above a whisper, and then he falls silent again. Hands dig into his pants, the material bunched up in a rush of anger. In his intense rage he fails to notice the golden shine that flashes by him. The shine that belongs to armor. He only notices it when it's too late, but where does it go?

The resonating pulse formed by their intense relationship could only keep him going for so long, after all.