He stuck his finger into the recesses of the sharpener

He stuck his finger into the recesses of the sharpener. He really felt like dying today. Her voice echoed in his head:
“I won't let you take your life... I'm not walking your soul to the gate... Not yet... but Niku? I know I hardly know you, but give me comfort with this... never take your own life... please.”
Why did she care? No one ever cared about him in all of twenty miserable years of life. He twisted his finger, flinched in pain and then smiled silently to himself.

She was Serena, the Crystal-Eyed Dreamer. She was the one who ushered souls into Heaven. Why the hell should she give a shit about a lowlife like him? She seemed and was way out of his league.

But still the emptiness crept upon him like clouds closing in on the blue sky. He turned harder; his nail turned blue. It was filling up with blood. The blood mixed with tears on top of the poem he was writing for her. He didn’t know how to love, nor did he deserve it. No one had ever loved him. How would he–

He looked at his bruised finger. That wasn’t enough pain for today. No amount of physical pain could ever match the emotional pain and confusion that he felt. Maybe, just once like the fleeting lives of cherry blossoms, he could shine. But then fall gracefully from the tree brown and crumply in the end.

She had broken her mirror for him. She was no longer looking at twisted reflections just him as he was, and he was fine with that. But he had done nothing to show for her kindness for her notice, nothing but blood and tears.