Whether dead or alive, there is no coincidence in the world. For every meeting, for every bond formed, for every interaction, big or small, there exist a reason. He wishes to know that reason. He hopes, with all his heart, it is the reason he has been secretly searching for.

While she sleeps, her hands, her lips, her soft smile... they give off the same feeling.

It is no hoax. It is no delusion.

A part of her is with him. Like before, she attracts them... demons and spirits alike. Warding them off gives him a sense of satisfaction, a sense of relief... as if he has finally come home after a long, pointless journey. To come home at last.

Mother, I don't understand them at it. Isn't it meaningless to try?

It is our purpose to find meaning, Tao-nee. That is life. Are you afraid? If so, take my hand.

He chooses to hold her hand while she sleeps... not because he is afraid. Fear has come and gone, left in silence like a subtle zephyr. No, the truth is... if he holds her like so, surely, she will be the first thing he sees in his wake. It is his proof that what has passed is neither a nightmare riddled with heartless spectres, nor a hopeful dream.

With glowing red eyes, the little, black dog watches from his quiet corner. Unmoved, he does not care enough to intervene. What the demon child chooses to do with her does not concern him. As long as she is still able, he will not worry. The day he falls to such sentiments is the day true death comes calling.

The demon child... his face is as equally damnable as hers. Their human-like form only adds on to his irritation. Such repulsive creatures... no better than little worms. But, there seems to be something more... to hate. Always more. Never less. What is it exactly? He cannot be certain.

• • • • • • • •

"Was it a delightful dream?" Her smile is as warm as sunshine in spring. She smiles... just for him. Her eyes give him the impression that she knows of his past, present, and future.

He is surprised to find his fingers still intertwined with hers. It gives him courage to speak. "Do you..." His voice is raspy. He swallows and clears his throat. "Do you... know my mother?"

She looks at him without pity. It is a breath of fresh air. Her smile is a cause for happiness in itself. With eyes sparkling, she responds. "I do."

"Then you've seen her?" Zitao rises eagerly. "How does she look?" He can barely control his breathing. "I mean... is she okay?"

She chuckles at his sudden out burst. "You are very much alive! She has worried for nothing."

"So you've spoken to her?"

"Yes." She nods her head. "The creature speaks fondly of her sweet, little Tao-nee." Her smile is reassuring and he has completely fallen in. Completely.

"You are, indeed, a naive, little boy. Too, too eager to drown in her lies."

"Hero! You promised you would refrain from being mean." She sits up and stares at the little, black dog's whirling tail.

"I made no such promise."

"Oh, how hateful."

"I am only warning him... see? So he may exercise caution in the near future. We cannot have him believing everything he hears on our journey."

"What journey?"

"Look... he does not even know..." Long ears flop back and forth as he shakes his head in disapproval. "The boy does not know who we are. He cannot even begin to form our names in his puny head. What good is he? Do tell... what good is he?"

"I told you many, many times, dearest. He has lost the ability to recognize us. You should not ."

"He is weak, if you ask me. He will need to grow stronger if he does not wish to cry anymore."

"But sometimes... being able to cry requires strength. Strength comes in many forms."

"Pfft. Sure, sure. I will never understand you, witch."

"What journey? Can anyone explain to me what's going on?"

They both turn to Zitao and respond, "To find your (crazy) mother and your (crazier) father."