Chapter 35: Chapter 35
Clouds began forming. Dark and ominous, writhing with tendrils of lightning that shot towards the ground in uneven intervals along with an inflow of rain and wind that the heat in the area did nothing to hamper.
It was a phenomenon created by the world. Something outside the natural laws and bordering on the metaphysical. A fire that burned and reduced all to ashes, and a power akin to creation permeating throughout. Overbearing, and imposing, the clashing of spiritual energy released a tension that suffocated all who drew near.
He took one step forward, the sound of dirt crunching beneath his feet echoed only by the distant thunder.
His presence was one that was similar to a storm. A congregation of such dense energy that it was even affecting the realm of the living, cracks forming in the dirt leading to large fissure-like chasms. The thick azure and overwhelming ferocity of it was not lost on Yamamoto, for the very same disposition had appeared once before along with death and ruin. A malefic and baleful aura, the strongest of its kind.
Vasto Lorde.
The Highest of Great Hollows.
The expression on Yamamoto's face stiffened, yet regardless of what thoughts were running rampant within Yamamoto's mind, his past-self didn't care for it one bit. His attention was focused solely on Coyote.
She was pinned to the ground within a crater, pink orbs listless and blurred yet staring at him all the same. Burns were scattered over her body, patches of black and reddish sores surrounding a punctured wound directly through her stomach unable to be healed due to a lack of reserves.
She was barely alive and yet when she saw him, he couldn't describe the emotion in her eyes. Her fingers dug into the dirt, a faint tremble in her body as she swallowed and attempted to push herself up, ultimately failing before crumbling back down. Her injuries were just too extensive, a far cry from how she had been before.
It wasn't fair.
He could understand why hollows were hunted, but Coyote had done nothing wrong.
She didn't prey on humans, rather, she maintained herself from the bountiful offerings given at temples and shrines, areas filled with spiritual energy. In exchange, she even watched out for the safety of the locals. He had seen her do this on numerous occasions, himself included when they had first met due to how similar to a human he had appeared.
They were actions that no other hollow would have had done, yet she had done so anyway only to end up in her current state. And at what cost? The mere act of defending herself?
A frenzied spiritual pressure began to brew.
"Wait here Starrk, I'll be back."
His past-self could still remember the words she had spoken to him then, the earnest determination, willingness, and solemnity in her actions conveyed with a silent disposition.
She had asked for nothing more, resigned to simply living within a mountainside cave isolated by others she nonetheless still wished to protect. All for a single reason he couldn't help but empathize with her for.
"I don't want to be alone anymore."
A lonely path, one that he too had walked upon while bearing the pain of losing those who had once stood alongside him.
His hands balled into fists, fingers curling into a white knuckled grip, and by the time he realized it, he was already standing before Coyote. A shockwave of spiritual energy left in his wake; the only signs apparent of his sudden movement as spatial cracks began forming in the air above.
He ignored the subsequent widening of Yamamoto's eyes in favour of gently kneeling down on one knee.
"S-Starrk," Coyote struggled to say while willing her body to move, she could feel his presence above her.
He shook his head, pulling her into his embrace and pressing her to his chest to get her to stop her movements. It was okay, everything was okay now. The matters one couldn't handle alone could often times be settled by others. He was there, her Family. He would protect her just as she had protected him. In his arms, she stiffened immediately, inexperienced with the warmth she felt around her yet understanding it for what it was. Something that had always been beyond her reach, a Bond with another. Her eyes began to glisten before a muted sob escaped her lips.
He didn't say anything in her moment of weakness, simply keeping her close and whispering into her ear.
"You've done enough, Coyote, it's my turn to protect you."
Coyote swallowed at his words while shakily staring up to meet his clear gaze, suddenly, a sword's light reflected in her eyes, causing them to widen.
She wanted to yell in warning, but she didn't have the energy to.
However, she need not worry.
A hand stretched out, unassuming and lacking any factors of intimidation.
It was a strength that didn't need to be sensed to be understood, for his current power was one that couldn't even be felt. The mysteries and laws of the world could no longer contain him; to pressure him into limiting his ability. For his ability imposed on the world itself.
The very strength of his soul.
Steel is my body.
As if by some unfeasible decree, reality bent, flesh made strong, weak made hard.
Steel met steel in a resounding clash of metal, fingers wrapping around a sharp edge and grating. Sparks flew endlessly in arcs, yet no matter how much weight Yamamoto put into his sword, it would not cut.
It would never cut. Not with the sheer difference in spiritual energy; the composition itself too distinct to even compare. What he was exerting was not simply the might of his spiritual energy alone, but rather that of his inner world breaking the bounds of reality.
A power whose jurisdiction belonged only to one.
The Soul King.
"Impossible," Yamamoto's tone was pensive, disbelieving.
The Soul King was a being that was the God of the realm of the living and the dead, possessing the means to change the nature of the world by initiative. Only in the space around the vicinity, the Soul King was no longer the absolute Sovereign.
It was a dimension of swords and steel threatening to explode out in a moment's notice reflected from a pair of bronze coloured eyes.
His gaze slowly shifted away from Coyote and turned towards Yamamoto, the impassiveness of it sending chills down Yamamoto's back as a set of magic circuits thrummed.
Converters of magic, they rapidly began absorbing an enormous amount of latent energy present in the atmosphere, funneling it to the very hand clasping over Yamamoto's sword.
In wake of his current strength, swords and weapons were no longer necessary.
The attack of a hollow would be enough.
He flicked his fingers.
"Begone."
With a word, the world shattered before Coyote's eyes, an explosive force completely enveloping Yamamoto and relieving her of her tension. Subsequently, she could last no longer and passed out in his arms.
He readjusted his grip on her before placing the hand he had used to repel Yamamoto's attack under her knees and hoisting her up. She had suffered enough, it was time for her to recuperate. He used his shoulder to rest her head on and gradually narrowed his eyes as the smoke cleared.
A bottomless chasm stretched on for miles on end, water from a nearby lake spilling into it and creating a vast blue river contrasting the inferno that appeared alongside it.
The temperature swelled instantly, a wall of flames striking forward like a viper's bite, melting the gravel and rocks and turning them into an odorous magma as it quickly approached him.
It didn't matter. Yamamoto had simply found the wrong opponent.
Fire is my blood.
He didn't dodge the blaze, he welcomed it, a fragment of his reality marble piercing a hole into the world.
Mere moments away from touching him, the flames themselves vanished without warning.
Hovering in the air just above the river, Yamamoto stood in tatters, his breathing ragged as an expression of dread and disbelief appeared on his visage. Cracks and splinters soon began forming over the four barriers erected in the air before shattering entirely, Yamamoto's formidable spiritual reserves significantly depleted.
In response, he stared silently at the man, expression cold as a sword began forming within his mind. However, he paused abruptly in the midst of his tracing, eyes darting up into the sky and off into the distance.
He was being watched.
More importantly, he could feel that he had earned the attention of the entity at the center of the world's laws and that killing Yamamoto would only earn him its animosity.
Glancing at Coyote held protectively in his grasp, he realized that it wasn't worth it to stay much longer just to vent the anger from within him. He couldn't risk Coyote for it. Besides, he already understood that even if he defeated Yamamoto, nothing would change for the hollows unless he did something drastic.
As such, he glanced deeply one last time at Yamamoto before promptly leaving. He would need all the power at his disposal for what he was planning.
Yamamoto bristled at his actions, the weight of his duty urging him to give chase, but he stopped mere moments from moving, forcibly restraining his body.
He felt something.
Icy, and cold originating at his back.
A premonition.
Should he so much as even move, he felt that his life would end.
Hard as it was to believe, years of battle experience had long since developed a deep trust towards his senses and they were warning him heavily.
A minute passed, then two, and then ten.
It was only when Yamamoto felt it safe enough that he glanced behind him. And when he did, his complexion paled as for the briefest of moments, he saw the fading outlines of thousands of objects disappearing.
His mouth dried.
Sheathing his sword, he looked towards the direction the hollows had left from and all intentions of chasing disappeared. He couldn't allow himself to die at such a precarious time. The Academy still needed him as its headmaster and the Quincy couldn't be left alone.
It was a dilemma between honour and duty.
Finally, he let out a sigh and left, whether it was one of relief or weariness, no one but Yamamoto would know. Just that as soon as he returned, he forbade all Shinigami from leaving the Academy grounds for a period of time.
However, in the place Yamamoto had just left, a man clad in black subsequently appeared, a frown on his face.
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By the time he returned to the once burning temple that had housed him, the fires had long since been put out by the coming rain. Charred remains of splintered wood and blackened tiles lay sporadically amidst the ruin of the interior, smothering all who couldn't escape to death.
He watched this all with a sobriety that constantly ate at him. He could feel the emotions of his past-self, could comprehend them even without explanation.
He had always been one to put the lives of others before himself, a fool whose only acceptable outcome was saving everyone. In the end, what had it given him?
He paused in a moment of silence but regardless of the answer, he didn't regret it.
He released a breath, pulling Coyote closer into his arms and moving amongst the wreckage. Embers shifted into the air with every step, the dying sparks of life extinguished in mere fleeting moments without warning much like those that had burned to their deaths within the temple.
Carbonized remains were all that were left, fingers curled into claws in an attempt to dig their way out of the rubble yet failing from the unnatural heat that had suffused the area alone. It was why the power of Shinigami in the living world were restricted in the peaceful times of the future. Innocents were killed as a collateral. It would be one of many regrets Yamamoto would have in the future whilst thinking of the past.
The smell wafting into his nose was nauseating, but not as disturbing as the familiarity he felt in his actions by just walking through the remains of the temple.
He dealt with everything wordlessly, traveling forward until he reached his destination.
"You came back," a voice called out softly, weakly as if in a daze.
He stared ahead, observing how Lilynette had dragged herself to lean her back on a blackened boulder, her legs sprawled in front of her. There was something missing from her generally optimistic expression, eyes limpid and unfocused as she stared at the ruins, lips trembling.
"T-They're all dead," she whispered while smiling as if it were all a sick joke. "The stupid old man, the other brats, uncles and aunties. There's no one left who will search for me anymore when I go hiding."
She swallowed, the falling rain making it difficult for him to determine whether she was crying or not. Only the forced smile on her face was just abnormally wrong.
"I'm sorry," he said.
The words left his past-self's mouth before he even knew it. If not for the fact that he and Coyote had taken shelter in the Temple, then perhaps it wouldn't have had been destroyed, the lives of the people within left unchanged.
Hearing him, Lilynette shook her head while whimpering.
"It's not your fault," she pursed her lips, a corner of her mouth lifting from a memory. "Like the old man had said, this temple accepts everyone, even if they're different. You, me, Coyote, we were all accepted. That's why it's not your fault."
The two lapsed into silence, he unable to utter anything, and she listening to the pitter-patter of the rain. Eventually, his back turned.
"Are you leaving?" A voice called out to him.
He turned his attention back to Lilynette and had to stifle the guilt he felt when he noticed the despondence of her expression. The rain had made her face pale, and the wind had long since stiffened her body, fingers shifting blue and cheeks stiff. It wasn't that he didn't want to take her with him, but the difference was that he and Coyote were Souls and she was still of the Living. Taking her along would be a death sentence which was why he had already alerted the village folks situated away from the temple to come through impersonated divine intervention.
He nodded his head in response to Lilynette's question. Lying would only make things worse.
"The people from the village below will come. They will help you," he said.
Surprisingly, on mention of the town's people, Lilynette's complexion seemed to pale further.
"No, no," she sniffled, her eyelids drooped. "They won't help. They'd probably kill me instead."
Saying that, she extended a trembling hand forward, and from within it, a spark of energy came to life, glowing with a dull light-green.
"They think I bring misfortune with this power. Its how they explained why my parents died."
With a flick, she extinguished the energy, pulling her knees to her chest and snivelling. "It was only the stupid old man that said it's a sign of a strong individual given power by the world, and look where that got him? It was the same for the others in the temple, but they're gone too. There's no one left."
No one else would ever accept her.
His expression grew grim, after a moment, words of conciliation at the tip of his tongue but faltering when he noticed the look she was giving Coyote.
"Is she alright?" She asked tentatively.
Looking down at Coyote, her body was still riddled with injuries and burns, her natural healing unable to close the wounds without sufficient reserves.
"She's injured," he frowned as he spoke, watching as Lilynette struggled to her feet. "You're injured too. You shouldn't be moving."
Lilynette staggered, but she stared back at him defiantly, a hand held over a wound that had stabbed her in the stomach that he hadn't noticed before due to the way she was sitting. It was only the burns that he noticed first.
"It's alright then," Lilynette wobbled as she walked, on the verge of collapse. "There's still something that I can do."
A soft glow began emanating from her palms, a dull light green that was like a beacon in the night.
He didn't stop her. He already understood that nothing he could say would be able to get through to her at the moment, rather it may cause her more pain. Therefore, he didn't move.
Seeing his actions, Lilynette swallowed audibly, lowering her head.
"Thank you," she whispered as her hands fell onto Coyote's side, the energy in her palms transferring to Coyote in mots of green light.
He didn't pay much attention to it at first, but when he realized what was going on, he stiffened.
"Y-You?" He stuttered out.
Lilynette shook her head, and he grit his teeth as a result.
At first, he had believed what Lilynette was transferring to Coyote was just the spiritual energy she displayed moments earlier, but focusing on the dwindling energy of her body, it was clear that it wasn't that simple.
What was being transferred wasn't just spiritual energy, but the potency of life force itself. Already, he could see visible signs of improvement over Coyote's form, but in contrast, this wasn't something that was easy for him to accept.
"You'll die," he said in agitation.
Looking up at him, he saw the depths of the blankness on Lilynette's features, cold and unfeeling.
"I already have alongside the stupid old man and the others," she said wryly. "At least this way, I can give just one more act of kindness."
"No," he was quick to say, yet the hands that were moments away from acting froze.
"Please." A sob of despair came out. "I don't want to be alone."
Lilynette bowed her head low, her lips quivering. No matter how much he willed himself to intervene, he couldn't bring himself to move, watching as the life gradually left Lilynette's body. The action of giving up her life force even made it such that her body was deteriorating at a visible rate until Liynette faded entirely from the world; her life transferred over to heal Coyote as he stood in a daze.
"Thank you."
One last show of gratitude filtered into the wind, and then it was gone.
Everything was gone.
For the first time since his past-self regained his memories, he felt hollowness in his heart.
This new world he was in, he couldn't accept it!
Hollows were hunted just for the sin of existing, and the skirmishes of others placed no regard for those who were powerless to resist.
It wasn't fair.
The Shinigami were said to be on the side of the righteous and the just, but he saw no Justice. Only death and persecution that dragged the innocents in.
If Hollows had no place in either the realms of the living or the dead, then he would create that place where they could all come back to and call 'home.' So that no Shinigami or Quincy could ever have a reason to fight near human settlements again.
His grip tightened around Coyote in his arms.
A family even if not by blood.
His power swelled around him, stretching for hundred and thousands of miles, a pillar parting the sky.
His was a world of steel and flame, an armoury of thousands upon thousands of blades. Yet, his inner reality wasn't suitable for hollows to live in, his beliefs and ambitions reflecting his vast armoury a hinderance rather than a necessity.
It didn't matter, his past self understood what had to be done.
A sacrifice made without a single hesitation.
He hovered into the air, thunder resounding in the distance.
"I am the bone of my sword."
Words of power representing a deeper meaning sent out invisible waves of energy throughout every corner of the world.
An incantation of self belief.
Fractures appeared in the air, dark and like broken glass in appearance leading to a dimension of rotating monolithic gears and a bronze coloured horizon.
"Steel is my body and fire is my blood."
His fingers curled into fists, wisps of rampant spiritual aura acting like tendrils that shot out in all directions. He wanted to make a world for all hollows to live in, to put an end to a life of constant hiding and oppression.
He roared, long and hard, carrying an unrestrained might that caused all hollows present anywhere to give pause.
A rallying call of a Greater Hollow.
A Vasto Lorde.
Hollows began leaving their seclusion one by one and moving in a certain direction, attracted by the protection of the strong.
"I have created over a thousand blades."
He could sense them coming in large numbers without even concealing themselves.
Elsewhere, the Shinigami and Quincy who noticed the large number of hollows didn't dare to intervene without sufficient reinforcements, otherwise death was the only outcome.
"Unknown to life,"
The energy around him thrummed, a vibration felt throughout.
"Nor known to death."
He closed his eyes, peering within himself. Hollows would never thrive in his inner world as it was. What he needed was a land of emptiness and high levels of spiritual energy that would last without conflict with the laws of the world.
As such, he had to integrate.
He would no longer impose his will upon the world, but instead allow the world to alter his instead. It was the birth of a new dimension.
Noble Phantasms didn't exist in the world he found himself in, but what did were weapons of rough equivalence called Zanpakuto. The numerous weapons stored within his armoury altered, giving life to spirits that weren't present before, parts of a soul belonging to legendary heroes manifesting in their weapons.
Ireland's Shield of Ulster.
The Rose of Olympia.
The Hero of the Nibelungenlein.
They all shifted to accommodate the laws of the world.
Yet, even still, there was something he had to give up.
"The path forward slowly reaches its end, the sharpest of swords dulling in the dusk."
His hopes and beliefs, that which gave life to his world founded upon an earnest wish. To create a universe that was truly empty, lacking wants, nor ambition.
The bronze horizon began to dim, a pale moon representing the end of an era rising up into a dark sky as the monolithic gears fell one by one. The embers that drifted in the wind became ash floating to the ground and burying all beneath; the veins of fire deep within the ground crystalizing into dull grey-like quartz.
Something within him snapped, the ideals holding his past-self's regained memories forcibly stored away lest everything fail.
"I have no regrets. An empty crucible."
He staggered, white flecks of extinguished cinders grafting over his body and enlarging the hollow hole in his chest.
"And so, as I pray, Unlimited Blade Works."
Tribal marks reflecting the nature of the world's laws travelled up and down his body as reality distorted, a ginormous crack forming in the air.
The first Garganta.
The hollows that had quickly gathered didn't need any prompting to understand what was in front of them, the white sand that they could see through the tear between dimensions evident enough.
He stood still, watching them filter in, hordes of hollows that would eventually build their own kingdoms and shelters. They entered with self-abandon, only a few taking the time to stare and commit his image to memory.
Currently, the cinders grafting over his skin had yet to cover him completely, preserving his original human-like image and what memories his past-self stubbornly clung onto.
"You, you will be remembered," the hollow who spoke was a skeleton for a hollow, brown rags adorning his form. "This King will remember it."
He simply nodded in response, his energy gradually leaving him from his exertion as he watched the skeletal hollow disappear through the Garganta.
In fact, many of the hollows understood what he had done and their gratitude simply couldn't be described. They didn't speak, but their sentiments were already conveyed. Not only was the human world stagnating for stronger hollows, but it was dangerous too.
Eventually, no others hollow appeared to enter the Garganta, leaving him alone with Coyote in his arms.
Slowly, steadily, he placed her through the tear between dimensions. A place where she didn't have to hide under oppression any longer and a place where hollows were abundant. She shouldn't be lonely anymore.
It wasn't that his past-self didn't want to stay with her, it was that he couldn't. His past-self still needed to stabilize the world created. As Shirou watched the actions of his past-self, he couldn't help but sigh in relief, Coyote didn't die.
She would be fine.
With that in mind, he observed as his past-self opened a smaller Garganta and entered, arriving upon a hill now buried by several layers of sand. It was a place that Shirou knew all too well, the vantage point he had always frequented.
"Now then," his past-self sighed while crouching. "There's only one thing left to do."
Closing his eyes, his past-self finally gave up on the things about himself that he was stubbornly holding onto. The ambition of his ideals and the motivation to continue forward, his soul becoming truly empty.
The very representation of the world around, barren, and destitute, the pale embers covering him completely as he resided within the center of the realm to act as its temporary lynch pin.
A blank sleight.
The Vasto of White
It was the last memory Shirou saw of his past-self as he felt the will of the Hogyoku dragging him back to the present.
Meanwhile, Coyote stirred, her eyes opening whilst pushing herself off of the sand.
"Starrk?" She called out softly, gaze shifting left then right.
No answer, the barrenness of the endless dunes giving her a sinking feeling of panic as her pupils dilated.
She was alone once again.
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It was a world of emptiness, of white ash and buried swords; the same pale moon reflected up in the sky.
A forge without its flame.
A Hollow World.
Hueco Mundo.
He opened his eyes, staring uncertainly at the Hogyoku in his palm and sorting out the information in his head as a shudder travelled down his body. He had seen the past, what had happened to him and the decision his past-self had made.
To allow the hollows a stable world to live in, his past-self was in turn unable to maintain the memory of the ideals that had shaped him into the man he was. Otherwise, the emptiness that the hollows thrived of off within the world would crumble, replaced by an energy unsuitable. One that was pure, rather than baleful, more appropriate for Shinigami if anything else.
He shuddered to think of what the Shinigami would have had done if Hueco Mundo actually became beneficial to them. They would have had waged war for certain.
Then again, the fact that he had recovered his memories now would have little effect on the world. After spending millenniums integrated with the laws of the present universe, the world he had created had become intricately bound with the others, creating three worlds in total. Hueco Mundo, the Souls Society, and the Human World.
The only difference between the him of before and the him of now was the connection he felt with the world. The buried armory calling to him to reignite that which had gone cold.
Little by little, cracks began forming on the pale white hollow-bone armour over his body, shattering completely with the return of what he had lost.
His red hair stood freely, his toned body bare of any clothes besides a rag tied around his waist, the hollow hole around his chest having shrunk in diameter. His muscles flexed on reflex, hands clasping and releasing as interface-like patterns briefly flashed over his skin.
Shirou Emiya.
That was who he was, the man with a dream unable to ever be realized, yet striving for it anyway.
How or why he ended up in a world different from his own, he was still uncertain of even with the return of his memories. However, he knew that he hadn't been abducted by the Wizard Marshal as he could clearly remember dying in life, a force of humanity contacting him, and his prompt refusal.
Therein lies the mystery; the time frame from when he had closed his eyes in life, and when he had opened them in death. The answer he wanted was there. The reason for his presence in the world and what he was supposed to do. And the only one who could possibly aid him in this answer was the being who watched over the realms, acting as its lynch pin.
The Soul King.
In the end, he would still have to gain himself a meeting, but as a Hollow he knew it would be impossible for any kind of formal request to be approved. Therefore, cooperating with Aizen for the time being was probably in his best interest as he had no knowledge at all about where the Soul King resided or how to reach him.
With the shattering of the white exoskeleton around him, he had no choice but to realize that Aizen was still standing before him, gazing at him with a critical eye.
"Why can't I sense your spiritual energy?"
It was the first question out of Aizen's mouth, but he wasn't in the mood to answer.
Instead, he returned the Hogyoku to Aizen and hid his agitation, the dread welling up from within him like a festering wound. She was supposed to be here. He had saved her, made sure that she was safe before stabilizing the world.
Therefore why? Why couldn't he sense her unique spiritual pressure within the entirety of Hueco Mundo?
It was one of a steady ferocity, overbearing and as vast as an ocean. Utterly unmistakable.
Coyote, she had to be here somewhere.
Due to the connection he had with the world, it was possible for him to get a general feeling of the others within it to a certain degree. The varying levels of power from the individuals within Hueco Mundo were represented by how radiant a light they emitted in his mind's eye, and Coyote, she should have had been a torch with the amount of strength she possessed. And yet, the torch didn't exist, only a multitude of smaller lights.
The uniqueness of her aura was one that he was exceedingly familiar with.
Abandoning all intentions of discussing anything with Aizen at the moment, all he cared about was the anxiety he was feeling at being unable to sense Coyote's unique spiritual energy. It should have had been impossible for him not to be able to sense it given how large it had been in the past, and yet no matter where in Hueco Mundo he attempted sensing, he couldn't find her.
Uncertainty building, he was left with his last resort.
A memory from a certain mountainside he wouldn't be able to forget any longer.
For it was something that meant the world to Coyote.
Why did hollow's roar?
An action whose meaning had long since been lost to the newest generation of Hollows.
He roared, a howl stretching out across the barren dunes, amplified through his connection with the world. A distant cry with only a single intention behind it.
Where are you?
The distinctness and familiarity of it was not lost within the entirety of Hueco Mundo for the ancient hollows, a deep and guttural roar filled with unbridled power.
Barragan, within the center of Las Nochas blankly looked up into the moonlit sky, a flash flickering within his hollowed sockets.
The howls continued, growing more and more desolate with each passing moment, waiting for the response of another that never came.
Elsewhere, two others felt a jolt from within them that they could hardly fathom, an inexplicable sadness and mourning that instantly rooted them in place.
Wordlessly, Starrk shot up from where he was napping while Lilynette who was once watching Ichigo train with Nel swallowed audibly.
Both stared blankly into the distance, unable to explain the sharp pain that they were feeling within their souls as the word 'Family' persistently appeared in their minds. They just couldn't understand it.
The depth of what 'Family,' meant to them.
Nor the reason why they felt like crying.
Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone