Yuuta sat on the ground, his hands pressed flat against the frozen grass, his body still trembling from the shock of returning to the world of the living.
His brain cells were slowly waking up, one by one, sending signals through his nervous system, reminding his body how to breathe, how to think, how to be alive. His DNA and genes were reconstructing themselves, piece by piece, reassembling the man he had been before the bullet tore through his chest.
He looked around.
The field was a disaster. The stalls that had been filled with food and laughter were overturned, their contents scattered across the ice. The tables where judges had sat were broken, their wood splintered, their cloths torn. The ground was cracked, frozen, stained with blood that had not yet been covered by snow. It was hard to believe that only hours ago, this place had been filled with happiness and joy, with parents cheering and children laughing and the smell of cooking food drifting through the air.
