Aysen strode towards Sora’s house. He knocked on the door softly, and Sora’s mother opened.

Her brown hair was permed and her surprisingly bright hazel eyes were fixed on Aysen firmly; she was garbed in a dress and a stained apron was tied around her waist.

“Can I help you?” she asked.
“I was…looking for Sora,” Aysen said, gritting his teeth and hoping that Sora would come walking any moment from the depths of her house, carrying that cranky old cat in her arms as if it were a porcelain doll.
“I’m sorry,” she said, shaking her head sadly. “I haven’t seen Sora since this morning…Frankly, it has me worried. It’s not like her to disappear like this.”
“Thanks…I’ll go look for her,” he assured the woman, while in his mind a storm was raging.

That Goddamn bastard! Why couldn’t he leave things well enough alone?!

An animalistic growl very nearly escaped him. He stopped in just in time to say goodbye to Sora’s mother.

The door closed, and Aysen turned, ready for the worst.