Everything is perfect. Better than I'd hoped. But it should be; I paid a fortune for this. The palace in Cinq and all its furnishings, perfectly duplicated in paper. It stands like a huge sarcophagus in the center of the temple courtyard. Big enough to walk through. And walk through it I do, inspecting everything. The monks must think I'm crazy wanting such perfection. "The spirits comprehend," they tell me. "It need not be a perfect likeness." But the spirit I intend this for is no ordinary mortal. During the war I never gave him less than a hundred percent, and I won't stop now. As I walk through the replica of the palace, I scatter paper money here and there, and pause a moment to admire the cunningly crafted servants. Zechs will want for nothing in the afterlife if I can help it. He was a prince in life; he won't be a pauper in death.

The gundam is next. It's as tall as I am, and I stuff more paper money inside it before nodding my thanks to the monks. They didn't build these things, but they seem desperate for my approval. I suppose they hope I'll give money to the temple in the future, but I'm not sure I'll ever be back. I was never very devout. I just need some sort of closure. It's been one month since Epyon exploded, and I still can't find peace. Maybe this will close the door I mentally hold open in hopes that he'll keep his promise to return.

The cars, the gundam, the palace and the rest are ready. The air is purified with twigs, the priests recite their sutra. I take my place and the flame is lit. In seconds the Shadow World objects are consumed in fire, and I watch the smoke carry them heavenward.

I know you weren't Buddhist, Zechs, but hopefully the monks are right and you comprehend.

Suki da.