It was raining, when he woke up.

Then again, it had been raining intermittently for the past two weeks, with the odd dry spell every so often. It made the rebuilding works treacherous, slippery and hard to work with.

For anyone else, it was normal. After all, it was turning into winter, and heavy showers or even storms weren't uncommon at this time of year, the end of October leading into November.

But for him, regardless if the others felt the same way or not, it felt like the skies were letting out an almost endless stream of tears. That, or the heavens were trying to cleanse the earth of everything that had happened, everything that he'd been party to.

Eventually though, he knew the tears would stop, and the wounds would be cleaned, clotted, mended and healed over, almost as though they'd never happened. Like everyone else, he'd heard the announcements – they were going to rebuild Satellite. Make it like the City, so that the people there had an equal chance to succeed.

It was what he'd always wanted, in a way. He was happy for them.

But that wasn't him anymore.

The rain continued to fall, and heavy footsteps took him to the window of the cheap apartment in the lower area of the city that he was staying in, his rent being covered by the others while he got himself back onto his feet.

They were all rushing around out there, weren't they? As though the world hadn't nearly ended less than a month ago.

He could see people running, people holding their coats close, people sharing an umbrella at a slower pace. Others still were hazy faces seen only through shop and street windows, hiding from the rain as best they could.

The phone was ringing.

Crow had given it to him, but he didn't use it, and it hardly ever rang, mainly because if anyone who knew the number wanted to talk to him, they'd usually find their way over somehow to meet face to face instead.

It kept ringing. He couldn't bring himself to answer right now – his mind was numb, the deck on the small table beside his bed burning a hole into him even from over here in the next room. He had a feeling he wouldn't be able to speak clearly even if he tried. Even if he wanted to try.

Eventually, it went over to voicemail.

"O-oi, Jack – stop shoving! He'll still be able to hear you if you're not right next to it, y'know-"

"Guys."

"Ahah, right… anyway! Hey, Kiryu! So, we remembered it's your birthday today!"

"Yuusei remembered."

"Er, yeah, but still – we wanted to say happy birthday, from all of us! I dunno if this means you're in an' you don't wanna talk, or you're out, but-"

"We hope you're feeling better, Kiryu," came Yuusei's voice again, cutting over Crow's and Jack's.

"Mn! And if you're hearing this right now, then you can hear this, too – we're going to come and get you!"

"Er… Jack. What if he isn't there?"

"Then we'll still find him somehow!"

Despite himself, he found that he was smiling. And when the line beeped to signal the end of the message time, he reached up to his eyes only to find that they were wet.

He drew a breath to calm himself, but although it was shaky and gasping, instead of just further tears – although some did fall – he found himself laughing.

His birthday. He'd almost forgotten. It was just one more day in the year for so long, because how could he celebrate another year of life when he wasn't actually alive? But he was now, and Yuusei… Jack… Crow… all of them. They'd remembered.

He didn't deserve it – the happiness, the laughter, the celebration. He didn't deserve them, either. People he'd done so much to hurt, and yet… wasn't it just in their nature to do something just like this?

...

AN: Based on a vague idea I've had for quite some time now, of the Signer War happening in October (or around that time), and the more recent revelation of Kiryu's birthday being November 1st. Meaning his birthday was either after or even during the time when he was a Dark Signer. Also inspired by listening to the song 'Mad World' - the Gary Jules version, given it's got a slower pace.

Also, fun fact - November 1st also happens to be one of the days on which Dia de los Muertos, the Day of the Dead (specifically, for 'los Inocentes', the children) falls on.