“A different sort of being?” Misaki repeated. “A bigger being,” he said, “so big that I, Matsuda Takeru, cease to matter. The first time it happened to me, I was very young. On that day, the snow fell thick, as it does now. My father was beating me for something. He knocked me down in the snow in the courtyard. And with my palms to the ground, I realized that I could disperse myself into the snow, spreading all across the mountain, even to the sea below and deeper, deeper, until the pain diffused through my new being, like a drop of blood into a pool. Maybe the pain and shame were too much for
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