Hundreds of translucent Soul Bodies emerged from the eye, and the faces buried deep within their memories once again surfaced in everyone's hearts.
Pointing at the familiar yet unfamiliar face from those memories, the little girl asked her mother, already weeping uncontrollably, a question her mother could never answer calmly in her childish voice.
An old man with white hair and tattered clothes looked at his child's pale, transparent face and fell to his knees. Pressing his forehead to the ground, heedless of the filth of the dust or the hardness of the paving stones, he repeatedly smashed his head against the ground. Blood streamed forth, yet it could not wash away the pain in his heart.
A Shinigami who had been maintaining order froze when he saw those Soul Bodies.
He looked at the face he had long buried in his memories. He looked at the face that had once bloomed with smiles, now utterly lifeless; at the eyes that should have been gentle and sweet, now closed forever. Before he knew it, two streams of clear tears ran down his dark face.
Staring blankly at the sky, the Shinigami felt as if an invisible giant hand had clenched his heart tightly. Waves of suffocating pain washed over him. He opened his mouth, wanting to howl in grief, but for some reason, when he opened his throat, not a single sound came out.
It was a sorrow born of despair so profound that it could not be expressed through words or tone. That sorrow swallowed his entire world, and in an instant, he fell into the mire of despair. He could not describe it with words or vent it with sound. He could only curl up and tremble, tremble...
And such Human Tragedies were everywhere beneath the not-so-large Sōkyoku