There was hatred in her eyes. Ena stared at Tomoya and his backpack, Kanako's right arm clenched in her fist.

"I told you about this. That's Kanako's arm. She really needs it."

Sensing that something was amiss, maybe, Kanako stirred behind him. She poked her head out of the backpack and weakly muttered the word "arm." Tomoya couldn't wait any longer.  How could he get Ena to hand over that right arm? Now, right now.

"Please. We can talk about it later . . ."

"Who's more important to you, me or the doll?"

Her trembling breaths made puffs of white mist that the wind snatched away.

Tomoya knew he had to say something, but when he tried it was as though his voice had been carried away too, far away. He couldn't bring himself to say "you" and try to smooth it over.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to blame you."

Ena looked as if she were the one who was hurt. Her face was white, like a doll's. She wrapped both arms around herself against the cold.

Then, with all her strength, she smashed Kanako's right arm against the wall of the building. The piece was shattered with a single blow.

The sound of the impact seemed to take a very long time to reach him. Remnants of the shattered arm were scattered across the asphalt like snowflakes. Tomoya stood there like a post driven into the ground. His eyes had seen what happened, but his mind refused to admit it. An awful, nauseous feeling crept up his throat.

"Goodbye."

Ena made no effort to look him in the face. She turned to go and then disappeared from Tomoya's field of vision.

He had no idea how long he'd been standing there staring at the fragments strewn across the ground. The arm had been smashed into such small pieces, as though its previous shape had been a mistake. The pieces were carried away by the wind.