Even though there were four other people accompanying them, when Yuzu looked back on that day, the words that echoed in her mind were "Jinta and I were walking…"

Yuzu Kurosaki didn't hear the music. As far as she was concerned, there was no music.

She remembered that day. Earlier, she'd seen a strange sight—she'd walked in on her sister, who had no shirt on and seemed to be looking at her reflection in the mirror. Karin had yelled, red-faced, at her to get out.

It wasn't even raining. For this day, it should be raining. The sun should've stopped shining the minute the crash settled upon the world's ears.

He walked with his hands behind his head in that way of his, the slowly setting sun level with his shoulder. He was outlined by the buildings, as if in he was in front of a fairy-tale painting.

Yuzu unconsciously put her auburn hair in her mouth, a habit that he used to tease her about.

Everything around him was like a fairytale.

The sky was nothing if overcast. It was gray, hovering in between calm and a raging storm, unsure how to react.

He'd laughed, called her names, teased her endlessly since the day they'd met. As he walked along the sidewalk dirtied with years of stamping feet in a rush to get nowhere, smirk slouching lazily on his face. He stepped on the stripes of the crosswalk, looking back and motioning for the others to follow.

The air was thick and heavy with rain that refused to fall. As the small man on the platform droned useless words, Yuzu almost became angry. Not enough was being said for Jinta, the right words weren't being said.

She'd followed him, laughing. The day had been nice, Ichigo had been home, no one had fought. It was all perfect. Even Karin's strange actions had been a nice touch, almost like the Kurosaki family was normal.

A black-clad man wearing a hat looked down at her for a second. Beside him, obscured slightly behind his leg, was the meek face that Yuzu had come to recognize.

Yuzu's smile was frozen in place in the moment before everything.

Yuzu walked over to the girl who was almost level with her height, taking her hand silently.

The screech of wheels, the yell, and the sudden push was enough to put Yuzu's head in a spin. The following yelp, dull thuds, and horrible crunching sounds were terrible. They scratched into Yuzu's ears, and she looked at the small patch of road behind her.

Yuzu's fingers entwined with the slightly smaller girl's. To her surprise, a tear slid out of Ururu's eye. Yuzu felt her throat catch and thicken.

Her stomach turned as she looked. She couldn't tear her eyes away from the sight. If she'd looked down, she would've seen the blood sprinkling her shoes. The roadkill that lay in front of her, flattened by speeding tires…that couldn't be anyone she knew. But even as she saw the tiny white fragments littering the ground, she saw the unmistakable head of red hair sticking out from the mess.

Yuzu felt a faint squeeze from Ururu as Urahara put a hand on each of the girl's shoulders. Nameless, faceless men brought out a coffin. Yuzu didn't need to see inside to see Jinta's body—it was etched in her mind, in her memory, in the back of her eyelids.

Yuzu stood stupidly, not moving, not taking it in. Around her, people were moving faster than she could think. Curious people peered of our their car windows, safe in a case of metal from the body but unable to resist the site. But they always drove away without a word.

The coffin was beginning to be lowered into the grave, clumsily, in Yuzu's opinion.

And as Yuzu went home that evening, she was numb in her room. She was unaware of the constant tears running down her cheeks. No one approached her.

She could understand the gravity of the situation, of death. But in Yuzu's mind, there wasn't a reason to be serious and quiet…this was a time to scream…and cry…be passionate…

But Yuzu Kurosaki was never passionate.