Rin Nakamura is more like her mother than she thinks. She enjoys tearing down the proud and powerful, and there is no one who deserves tearing down like the very goddess she descended from. They say that the children of Nemesis, even when unclaimed...
She was in the park this time, and the air hummed with the distant laughter of children. Rin stood on the periphery like an unseen spectator, observing the scene with a curious detachment.
Her father, a figure she had always associated with impeccable suits and an air of authority, stood before her in an uncharacteristic state. He wore his favourite Star Wars shirt, sleeves rolled up, and jeans – a sight achingly familiar. The scene unfolded with a surreal haze, like the edges of a watercolour painting bleeding into one another.
Her father's hand was intertwined with that of a young girl's, no older than Rin herself, but the specifics of their features remained elusive. Faces obscured by a gentle mist, they moved across the park together, and from their movements alone Rin knew the pair she was shadowing to be herself and her father.
She was watching a memory. She was watching that particular memory, and all of a sudden she desperately wanted to wake up. She wanted someone from the real world to shake her awake, to wrestle her into a state of consciousness so she would not have to watch what came next.
Despite her best efforts, the dream meandered through the park's vibrant pathways, with the dream version of her leading her father by the hand. Rin reached out to the pair, eager to hold her father's hand too, for the childish desire always remained, but the distance between them seemed to grow until he was just out of reach. He was always out of reach.
The grass beneath her feet felt soft and cool, and the distant sounds of laughter grew louder with each step. Some details seemed startlingly clear while others were muffled, as she was viewing them through a gauzy veil.
When they approached the edge of the park, it took a few moments for the road to materialize before them, and the faint jingle of an ice cream truck permeated the air. The melody, both whimsical and nostalgic, played softly in the background as both father and daughter came to a standstill at the edge.
Rin, now watching herself, felt the excitement building within the dream-child. She could see herself bouncing on her toes, pointing gleefully towards the source of the enchanting music, tugging eagerly at her father's arm. The ice cream truck, adorned with a kaleidoscope of colours, seemed to beckon from the other side of the road, and Rin felt the sickening sweetness of the dessert she'd never get to have heavy on her tongue.
