Now that I've astonishingly succeeded in making two people cry, my first objective was to give up on sleep and go to my training room.

   Punches, blows, and kicks rained down upon an abused punching dummy. My ears were met with the harsh sounds of skin meeting coarse burlap and my rugged breathing.

   How long I spent pouring out my frustrations into the countless routines I went over could've been anyone's guess. All I was sure of was that it was dark again by the time I actually decided to leave the room.

   The moon, with its bloody, toothed smile, loomed over the entire city. For some reason, this caused me to think back to my last visitor: Soul.

   'I should probably find him and... Apologise... Or something,' I thought to myself and headed to the bathroom to grab a shower.

   As I stood under the flow of water, I watched as the droplets joined together to trace their little streams down my arms and chest. I sighed heavily and reached for one of two shampoo bottles— the one on the left— and poured a small amount on the palm of my hand before I lathered it into my black and white hair.

   After a rinse and repeat, I simply stood there under the relentless spray of hot water. Time turns immeasurable before I noticed that the steaming water wasn't exactly steaming anymore.

   Shivering, I stepped out of the stall and wrapped a fluffy black towel around my waist. I walked over to the fogged mirror and wiped my palm down the exact middle to clear the condensation.

   The picture that stared back at me without a trace of emotion looks exactly as such— a picture. His hauntingly familiar eyes were somewhat sunken in and the lips that resembled mine were thin and slightly chapped.

   I only realized it was me when I lifted a hand to my face and he did the same.

   Deciding it was fine, I shrugged and glanced at the clock as I made my way to my bedroom.

   'Wow, it's already already midnight and a hal- No wait, I meant 12:30. Ugh, I have less sleep than I thought.'   I mentally monologued.

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