Dear Agony

Dear Agony...

Just let go of me...

Suffer slowly...

Is this the way it's gotta be...?

Aoshin awoke amidst a painstaking, cold sweat. His dreams were always strikingly clear, a product of his Devil Fruit ability. He had pried into one too many minds in his hayday, and unfortunately for him, many of those memories returned to him in his hour of sleep. But none struck him quite like this one.

The Black Panther took his face into his hands, catching his breath slowly. His long, black hair bobbed around in a bun at the back of his head. He took a short glimpse out from his tent —which had been situated at the end of some beach— admiring the the rising sun in the horizon. He studied it long and hard, a single name bellowing from his lips in a soft whisper. "Hashira…"