I was 5 yrs old when the memories came—after all the hysterical denial, violent anger, and heart wrenching depression in public bathrooms, I came to the reluctant realization that I was Miura Haru—in a world where I was a confused lost gone jumbled fragile girl all over again. A world where no one could save me—I'm alone. I'm so so alone—I hated being so human. I hated it. [?/SIOC]

"You know I would've been happy being a sidekick," I say, and it sounds like I'm crying. But the tears haven't fallen yet, "I would've been happy being his sidekick if it meant I was with him. If it meant I was there and supporting him. Pro—" My voice cracks, and I swallow it. I inhale shakily, and try again, "If it meant protecting him…" But I can't. My brother is dead. (?/OC)

I was five years old when the memories came—Don't go. Stay with me. Don't leave me alone. Make it stop. It hurts—I do not deserve Sasagawa Kyōko—It was always me. Always me...—It's happening again. I wasn't hesitating this time—I'll kill you! I'll kill you! I'll kill you!—Had canon Ryōhei gone through all of this shit?—Get away. Get away. Get away—What the hell did I do? [?/OC]