Yuuta walked toward Elena, stepping carefully over the scattered crayons and sheets of paper that covered the floor around her.
She had been drawing for hours, lost in her own little world, her tongue poking out in concentration as she worked on what looked like her latest masterpiece.
Dozens of drawings surrounded her, some stacked neatly, others crumpled or torn, and many more spread across the floor like a colorful carpet of imagination.
He picked up the first one.
It was the drawing he had seen before, the family portrait, the one Erza had hidden behind the television.
Three figures standing in front of a crystal castle, white and blue like ice, like something out of a fairy tale.
He smiled at the way Elena had drawn his eyes too big and Erza's horns too long.
It was childish and imperfect and absolutely perfect.
He set it down gently and picked up the next one.
This one was different.
Smaller.
Humble.
