Both she and Sode no Shirayuki shudder at the familiarity of the scene before them and the two of them as one seeth in fury at the wrongness of it all: the broadsword twisted into his chest is a sick, twisted parody of everything, everything that brought them to where they are now.
Here in her hands she holds redemption.
She clutches the phantom sword in her hand, and her aura flares slightly under the concealment. Her two companions rest a hand on both her shoulders to steady her.
His tears flow freely, mixing with rain.
Lost. So lost.
It is a side of him that has never shown itself to her before. He is broken, in pain and most of all he fears.
In those eyes, in that soul, no hope is found.
Eyes wide, dulled and lifeless.
So familiar yet...
The rain pours down.
It rained then, too. She was the one that cried that time.
Many a farewell has passed between them but for every farewell a reunion.
A sword in the heart, a borrowed strength, a closing gate in the rain, flying high above a bridge, a bird born of flames, the speed demon, a good bye spoken in an empty field, a reunion on a windowsill, a heart, white battlements, a beast in white sands, a moon demon, and a gate in the air.
They fall seven times and rise eight.
She reveals herself. A look of disbelief and calm reassurance.
She passes the blade through and hope returns.
An explosion. Black robes. A sword as long as he is tall.
Two swords are drawn.
'Long time no see, shinigami.' a small smirk, creases the brows above sparking bronze eyes. Eyes she remembers.
She smiles.
She needn't say more.
They both know the answer.
Because we are amorphous
we hold that in reverance.