A cold, lonely and dark space — this is where I should belong. A place where I can not get into contact with others, a place where my flame can not harm anyone; a place, fitting for me. But what is this… the scent of a Japanese yew. Heartbeats after I smelt the scent, you appeared, smiling at me. “This place is dark, eh? It’s lonely and cold, too. Let’s get back home!” You said as you picked me up, nuzzling your head against mine. “But you’re so warm, I think I might not freeze on the way back home.” I was reluctant to follow, I was stubborn and I told you I’d rather be alone. But instead, you smiled and said, “I told you, when it hurts, tell me. I’ll listen to you.”

Why do you always do this to me?