Shinji slowly fell forward onto his face. Debris bounced up on impact. It took less than thirty seconds for the rest of his body to die. The memento of his beloved uncle--the earring worn by the woman he loved--was now stained with the blood running down Shinji's left ear, reflecting the glow from the red flames of the farm building. And so the boy known as the Third Man, Shinji Mimura, was dead.

By then she was dead. In fact, she may have been dead a while ago. Physically, several seconds ago, mentally, ages ago.

It's not a bad thing to be loved.

Now there's the Niida we all know and loathe.

Yes, just like those flowers. There's something strained, but there's beauty in that. Something like that

Silly boys. Did you think we were making a silent movie?

They tried to believe in their classmates. They must have believed that if we could all get together, then we might end up being saved. We should commend them for that. We couldn't do that.