AN: Okay, I was feeling in a writing sort of mood when I decided to go back and read this fanfic. Honestly, it is one of the worst things I've read in my entire life. I've decided that the whole story is going to be over-hauled before I even consider doing a sequel. Yeah, I know I said that I would be revising it on my profile, but I now realize that the story just needs to be redone. The romance bit just started coming out in the last couple chapters. The story is way too short to establish any sort of relationship. I am ashamed of myself and my lack of endurance and patience. I'm in my senior year of high school, for Christ's sake, and this was the best I could do? "The Half-Empty Locket" deserves to be so much more than the half-baked story that I published on this site.

This is a little snippet of an idea that I've added. This should better characterize Yuki and her barely mentioned trauma. Here is an excerpt from the new chapter 2:

With that embarrassing thought, I headed down the corridor –it was much too large to be called a hallway—and opened the last door. The room was the same size as mine, but decorated completely differently. The walls had originally been white before murals of anything and everything in nature were painted on them. Depictions of plants, animals, and landscapes were scattered willy-nilly around, yet all of it seemed to work. The furniture was the same; all plain to begin with, but easily changed to fit the designer's mood. A loft bed allowed for the most floor space for painting and kept it from getting covered in artistic materials. Hanging from the ceiling was one of those egg-shaped chairs with a modification that allowed it to be pulled up and out of the way. Sunlight poured in through the large windows that had a view to the garden. I opened them to let in the delicious breeze. "So," I said to the air, "I should probably tell you about my first day of school."

After the accident, sensei had wanted to get rid of everything in the room because it was too painful a reminder to his wife and my older sister, Fukiko. I would not allow it, so everything remained the same as before. I kept Tsuki's bedroom and adjacent art studio clean without the assistance of the household staff. I didn't dare allow them in for fear of them throwing something out.

Unlike Fukiko and sensei, I didn't pray for my sister in the conventional way. They always showed up at the official shrine downstairs dressed to the nines and put fresh incense up while they prayed for her wellbeing in the afterlife. To me, it was sort of impersonal. I showed up to her actual room at least once a day, but never at a particular time. Sometimes, I would come in after a grueling workout and piss off Tsuki's spirit by letting sweat go all over the place. At night, I would sneak in in my pajamas with hot chocolate in hand to taunt her with. They probably had hot cocoa in Heaven, but I made it best.