The smell of ammonia overwhelmed his nostrils, the chatter around him trying and failing to drown out his thoughts.

Will she be alright?

His foot tapped up and down nervously, making many small noises against the tiled floor.

She has to be. We promised.

A single drop of sweat came down from his unkempt black hair, the man too worried and too tired to care about it.

We beat fate. We can do it again.

Two worried, hopeful cyan orbs twirled over the wall in front of him, his mind projecting terrible scenarios across the blank surface. Images of that horrid line, accompanied by its monotonous screeching, letting him know that-

"Hey, cheer up. She's a tough woman, you know that," the blonde-haired man sitting next to him said, patting him on the back. His companion's eyes, framed in his glasses, were concerned. Two points, ones he could feel boring into his mind and soul, attempted to seek out his troubles.

He sighed, sitting up. "It doesn't make me feel any better. Until I know that she's fine, I'm going to be on edge," he stated, rubbing at his forehead.

But what if we're torn apart?

I'll come get you.

Thanks. Same here.

He took his hand away from his forehead, thoughts finally calming. Maybe now, he could envision the future he'd get.

Some length of time passed. Nurses and doctors and visitors alike rushed by them, paying no heed to the worried man and his friend.

It was when one did that they knew something had happened.

Their old one-armed friend walked into the room, holding a datapad. If she was thinking anything, her face didn't show it. She was unreadable, cold.

"Come with me, please," she said, walking back into the hall.

The two men stood up, glancing at each other. They walked side-by-side, following the doctor.

As they came closer to the room, the horned man began to hear his daughter's crying, along with some fussing by the doctors.

He smiled, thoughts drifting to happy times, happy places, and memories yet-to-be made.

They stopped in front of the delivery room's door, his hand hovering over the button to open it.

He steeled himself, preparing to see his wife's smiling face, her chest expanding and contracting softly, her horns as bright as ever, and her eyes looking at their newborn child.

He opened the door.

Besides his daughter's crying, no noise was being made. He looked around the room, seeing all its inhabitants turn to face him.

All except one.

No.

His eyes widened, and he rushed to his wife's side, looking down at her.

No.

Her eyes, so wide and pleading, so full of life mere hours ago, sat dead. Her bright, scarlet pupils now an ugly shade of burgundy.

No.

He looked up at her horns, wishing they would be glowing, but found them dark. Their light snuffed out, their luster gone. Just two dead growths on a de-

No!

He put his hand on her forehead, finding it cold. He touched their horns together, wishing he could hear her heart beating.

But, like that terrible monitor, no sound came. No noise, no life.

He sunk to the ground, tears finally sliding down his cheeks. The doctors around him called out to him, asking him to stand up so they could explain what happened, why she wasn't there, why he was alone. He couldn't hear them.

One voice - his glasses-wearing friend's - broke through the haze.

"...her horns cut her open from the inside? What?! Why didn't her regeneration kick in?"

The broken man's eyes widened.

She killed her. My daughter killed my wife.

His thoughts screamed, his mind unable, unwilling to comprehend what just occurred.

His child cried louder.

On some days, it was better than others.

Some days, he could look his daughter in the eye without breaking down, without making her feel sad for something that wasn't even her fault.

Other days, the way her horns glittered in the sun, the way she looked at him so curiously, the way her smile was so similar to hers…

It was too much.

So he worked, he worked, and he worked. He spent day in and day out teaching others how to pilot, how to do the one thing he couldn't do any longer. He was just as useless as he was before, and both times, he realized, were because he didn't have her.

Sometimes he wondered if Strelizia was left behind to mock him. If the mech existed solely as a reminder that he was alone, that its mother was gone. He wondered if it laughed as he walked past, if it thought to itself, What a poor excuse for a man.

Sometimes he wondered why she left him here alone. Did she do it on purpose? Did she let herself die?

He knew, though, that she wouldn't leave him by her own accord. We'll be together forever, they promised.

Did she mean to break that promise? Had fate finally caught up to them?

His spiraling, neverending considerations subsided when his daughter called out to him from across the room.

She was playing with some construction toys, and had suddenly stopped, looking at him.

"Daddy, why do you cry when you look at me?"

He was thankful today was a good day, or he'd have broken down then and there.

He smiled sadly, beckoning for the purple-haired girl to sit on his lap. She eagerly accepted the invitation, positioning herself carefully across his legs.

"You just remind me of your mother sometimes, that's all. She had this sort of air about her, and I think that she gave it to you," he explained, tapping his daughter on the nose. She laughed, and he let her get it out before he continued.

"I loved her with all my heart, just like I love you. We…" he wiped at his eyes, sighing. "We promised to be together forever, your mother and I."

He pulled out his wallet, retrieving a small replica of the photo Squad 13 had taken all too long ago. He pointed to the pink-haired girl holding onto his arm on the far right side, watching as his daughter leaned in to study his wife as well.

"This is her."

"She's very pretty," his daughter confirmed, looking up at him and grinning toothily.

Now that's my darling!

An image of her flashed through his mind, causing him to gasp and remove his daughter from his lap.

"Daddy, what's wrong?" She asked, eyebrows lowered in confusion, tears already beginning to well in her eyes.

He put on a jacket and slid his shoes on. "I'm going out," he said, exiting the door and studying his feet.

Why does she have to be so like her? Why can't I accept it, so that I stop making her cry?

His feet hit against cold metal, and he looked up, realizing where they'd taken him.

Back to the FranXX training grounds, back to his cage.

He sat down and sighed, rubbing his temples. He marvelled at the way his breath travelled through the air, drifting up into the wind.

It was all just vapor. All of it, nothing but clouds. A passing fascination.

Stop it, you idiot! She was more than that, and your daughter is more than that! Don't think otherwise!

His thoughts battled each other as he regressed further into memories, recalling when he fell out with his friends.

"Hiro, you need to stop this. Your daughter needs you, not your work. You've enough money, and if not then I can pull some strings to get you by."

"You mean, guilt people into giving me things? Because they 'owe' me? Because they're sorry for me?" He laughed, face growing darker. "It doesn't matter. None of it matters. She's not here to smile for me, so I might as well be dead."

His blonde-haired friend punched him. "You… I can't believe you! You can't even take care of your own daughter properly?! Zero Two wanted that, I'll bet!"

"Don't you dare tell me what she wanted! It's none of your business!" He yelled, storming out of the room.

That was the last time he'd seen them.

He exhaled slowly, looking around him. No one was out right now, it was too late.

He needed to get back.

For what? Another night of restless sleep, of those damn nightmares of her calling out for you over and over and over again, and you unable to help her, unable to save her?

No, he fought back, for my daughter.

He returned to his house and went inside, finding his daughter drawing something.

"Daddy, look!" She presented the image. Long ago, he found out that another thing she'd inherited from her mother was a knack for art. It didn't bother him as much anymore.

It was a drawing of two people, one with blue horns and another with purple ones, walking and laughing beneath the cherry blossoms.

Above them, in a cloud, sat a third person. She had red horns, and her hair mingled with the trees.

He couldn't help but smile.

He was so, so sorry for everything.

Sorry he hadn't raised her as he should've, sorry that he alienated his friends, and most of all?

Sorry that he thought he hadn't loved her enough.

A single cherry blossom fell onto his outstretched arm, the action stirring an emotion he hadn't gotten in a while.

Comfort.

He looked over at his daughter. Her hair was longer now, and she was taller. She looked even more like her mother now, but he didn't care.

He'd made peace with that a while ago. It was another thing he had to repent for.

She started wearing contacts to school. He didn't notice.

He didn't notice her filing her horns down either, until she'd nearly gotten them to the root.

He had to stop her from cutting the growths out, he had to convince her that she wasn't why he was sad.

He was so, so sorry.

She looked back at him, horns a healthy length and eyes natural. "What?"

He smiled softly, rubbing her back. "It's just… I'm so sorry.

"For not being there for you when you needed me, for working myself too hard, and… and most of all? For making you cry," he said.

She said nothing, wrapping him into a hug.

"It's alright, dad. I… I never knew her, but I miss her too," she said, voice shaky. "I understand that you were down, but… you tried your hardest, and you did it for me. There's nothing to be sorry for."

He relished the moment, returning her hug. The moment was disturbed by her PDA going off, she'd gotten a message.

Her eyes widened, and she blushed slightly. "Sorry dad, I've got to go!"

He waved as she left, sighing to himself.

Kids these days...

There was one last promise left for him to fulfill. He wished, oh he wished, that he could do it with his wife, but… she was there with him, in spirit. His daughter had helped him realize that.

Her effect on him was profound, unchangeable. He needed to recognize that.

So he prepared to travel the world, bringing with him many cherry seeds. He figured he'd leave a lasting impression of his wife on the planet itself, as one last defiance of fate.

He was just finishing packing up when his daughter came up to him. She was even older now, and he knew that she'd be married soon.

"Dad… do you really have to go?" She asked, playing with her fingers.

"Yes. For her," he responded simply, his daughter nodding.

A look of remembrance passed over his face, and he reached into his pocket.

He pulled out a white gold ring with an amethyst in it, matching the one he wore.

"This was your mother's. I'm sure she'd want you to have it," he explained, placing it in her hands and closing them.

Her eyes widened. "Thanks, dad," she sniffled. "I'll walk you out."

The two walked in relative silence to the edge of the large town, and they shared their final goodbyes.

She hugged him tightly, and he was reminded of his wife in her one last time.

I should've realized that their similarities were for the better sooner.

He reluctantly released her, wiping a tear from her cheek.

It was time for him to leave the future to its own devices.

He began walking away, climbing a nearby hill. Just before he went fully over, he looked back on the world he'd helped secure, the future he helped create.

He watched as a head of purple hair disappeared back in the town, mingling with its denizens.

He smiled and kept moving onwards.

The world is beautiful.

He saw open plains, sparse deserts, and magnificent waterfalls. He interacted with the many animals that'd come back, running with the herds and wading in the swamps.

Our world is beautiful.

He braved snowstorms, hid in caves as tornados wreaked havoc over his head, and laughed in the rain as it tickled his face.

So, so beautiful.

Everywhere he went, he tried to plant cherries. Some places had them in abundance already, some did not. He spread seeds during his journey, hoping that one day, his distant family could come back and say, "Grandma said her dad put this here!"

It's time.

He walked and walked, staying in no place for too long. Eventually, his hair grayed. His joints became difficult to move, and he found it hard to go on.

I'm at peace.

He decided to walk through one particularly hard snowstorm, and he knew it would be his last. After a while, he collapsed, the white powder slowly coming over him.

A hallucination of his daughter and her family came. He saw them happy and prosperous, and he was content.

They made it.

He closed his eyes and braced himself for oblivion.

Even as you were hurt so badly, you kept fighting this world all by yourself.

He felt a familiar, missed presence. Someone grabbed his hand, and dragged him upwards.

The cold and noise stopped.

He opened his eyes to find himself in a different white expanse. A warmer one.

He looked down at himself and saw that his tired, wrinkled skin was rejuvenated. The bangs in front of his face were black again. He laughed slightly, shaking his head.

A voice unforgettable, unheard for all too long rang from behind him.

"Darling!"

He turned around, his smile growing wider.

A/N: This was basically just my response to all the interviews and shit coming out.

To make a long story short, I'm demotivated.

I don't feel like writing anything - my entire perception of the characters has been flipped on its head - and I'm just in general feeling down.

This was a result of that.

If I made your day worse by reading this, sorry. If I made it better somehow, that's great. I just needed to get this out.

Please give some love to your favorite authors. We all need it at this point. Try not to pressure for new stuff, though. It takes time, you know?

P.S. This isn't RaR Chapter 7. I couldn't do that to you all. Think of this as… a spinoff, I dunno.

Yours, dsw78