A/N: Written for the Diversity Writing Challenge, E49 – write about fulfilling prophecies. Maybe not a prophecy in a typical sense, but a prophecy nonetheless. :D
And my first voyage into the Symphogear fandom (and it's all Aiko's fault I watched Symphogear in the first place, lol.)
The Finale of Zwei Wing
.
It would be their greatest concert. That, they promised.
Neither of them had realised what they would give to make that a reality.
Neither of them had thought they'd sing…that.
Their swan song.
.
She was singing it now.
She'd always known she would die soon. From LINKER overdose. Or from the low compatibility with Gungnir. Or in battle against the Noise. Or all three of those.
She wouldn't have minded dying like that either.
Nor did she mind dying like this. Singing her greatest song: her swan song. Watching the Noise fall in swarms, bowing and crumbling to her voice. Watching all those people who'd come to watch them sing with smiles on their faces fleeing, still alive, still listening.
The only thing she did mind was Tsubasa's anguished scream drawing closer.
Kanade sung louder to drown that.
.
Kanade was singing her swan song.
Tsubasa had always known she would likely be the one to outlive the other: the half of Zwei Wing that would continue flying while the other wing fell. But not like that. And not then. Not when they were about to make history together: the greatest concert they had ever known.
How would they ever challenge that? Try to best the concert they'd put at the top of the ladder? Try to ascend to new heights?
Kanade had always been running on a time limit, but not like that. Their swan song was supposed to be a safety switch that was never flicked.
Or, if they ever did flick it, would be in a time they were strong enough to transcend it: their limit.
The swan song was their limit, and their wings were supposed to help lift them above that.
And yet here, at that concert that was supposed to lift them to a higher stage, she was singing her swan song.
.
It was a beautiful song, but sad. A piercing, mourning, sad. Not the sort they sang at concerts. The sort that had everybody fired up: had them standing on their seats and cheering their lungs out. The sort that lit hearts and souls, lit fires. The sort that had them singing as loud as they dared and burning, buzzing with energy.
Not the sort of song that made her stamp her feet on the stage and spin and kick and stomp and punch the ground and the Noise until they cracked.
It was a song that slowed her steps to her death as everyone turned.
It was a song that seemed to slow down time itself.
It slowed down time and raised the curtain on their tattered dream.
.
Tsubasa watched – watched Kanade's lips move, those notes fall from her lips and pierce through everything: the Noise, the broken remnants of what they'd written as their greatest stage – her soul.
And the soul of everyone there. Those watching. Those fleeing. Those who'd tumbled and become cornered by the Noise. Those for whom Kanade was singing now – singing her Swan Song so this concert of theirs at least didn't become a concert splattered with blood.
She saw that. She understood that. Still, she couldn't drop her sword and stand silently and listen. Though the song begged her to do. Begged her to stay. To watch.
To survive and to go on singing, for both of them.
Because they'd both been so sure Tsubasa would outstrip Kanade in life.
But never that Kanade would outstrip Tsubasa with her swan song.
Her heart burned with shame. Kanade's body was already breaking from the strain. There was blood on her lips. Blood in her voice, in the clouted air that hung heavy from broken things: broken concert, broken buildings, broken bones, broken Noise… And Kanade's broken body was joining there as well.
If it was Tsubasa who'd sung, they could have both lived for another day.
.
Kanade knew that if she hadn't started singing then, Tsubasa would have. And she also knew that Tsubasa stood a far greater chance of surviving. She wasn't a Linker user. Her affinity to her relic was strong. They both could have walked away, and they could have made an even greater concert thereafter.
But she also knew that the Linker was killing her inside and out. She might not get another chance to leave her mark, to let her searing flame burn a brand that would not be forgotten. It could be next week or next month –
Or the next few minutes because she could feel her armour crumbling before she even began her song.
.
The Linker. The incompatibility. It always came back to that, in the end. Tsubasa was lucky she didn't have that problem. The rest had been unlucky – unlucky because she was the only one who could fight the Noise. At the time. Until Kanade came along. Kanade who was orphaned by the Noise and incompatible with the other relic, the Gungir. Kanade who'd demanded to have a weapon that could fight the Noise anyway.
Tsubasa had been initially annoyed because she was used to fighting alone. But Kanade had wormed her way in. Kanade had a way of worming her way in.
And it was so easy to forget – and so hard to remember – that Kanade, in forcing the acceptance of a relic that wasn't compatible with her – was on a time limit.
.
She didn't want to die because she failed. It was that simple.
And she had no time for anything else. Her armour was breaking apart. She'd be without it in minutes. And then the Noise rampaging around would be Tsubasa's. All Tsubasa's. Whether she could take care of them or not.
And, after that. How much shorter would each transformation be? How much shorter, fleeting, her songs? When would her voice catch in her throat, rendering her unable to sing at all? When she was rendered completely powerless, reduced to a spectator with only one advantage: knowledge.
But they said ignorance was bliss, didn't they? She who knew the truth would never be able to live, to sing, in peace.
She'd come to peace with the fact that she'd cut her life short to fight the Noise, and that was fine with her.
So long as she went out fighting.
So she sang.
So she sang the song that would kill her, before the Linker did. Before the Noise struck her down because she'd grown too weak.
It wouldn't be the concert Zwei Wing had dreamed of, but it will still be her final, and best, song.
.
Tsubasa didn't want Kanade to die. They'd become too close over the years. Since they'd become partners. Since they'd started fighting the Noise together. Since they'd started singing on the stage together.
Since they'd become a team. Since they'd become sisters in arms. Since they'd taken the name Zwei Wing and shouted it out to the world together, hand in hand. Since they'd become friends, and something much closer.
Since they'd become inseparable.
And that inseperability meant that, even though they both knew she would one day die – one day soon die – she didn't want it to happen.
And she didn't think she could handle it if it happened.
Especially now. Especially when she wasn't prepared.
Especially when she was frozen on the battle, transfixed, listening to Kanade's swan song.
.
Her swan song was hypnotising. Captivating. It made everyone pause. It made everyone stare.
It made everyone see her breaking down, but she couldn't bring herself to care about that. To think about that.
Don't remember me for my breaking body, she thought. Don't remember me as the pitiful orphan who overdosed on Linker to get her hands on a relic and a weapon against the Noise. Remember me singing. Remember our concert. This song. The destruction of the Noise.
That wasn't worth their concert, but destroying those blasted Noise were worth a lot. She smirked, even as blood dribbled down her cheek. It didn't mesh with the slower tempo of her song, but that was fine. The fatigue quickly claiming her was match enough.
If she thought she could, she'd punch and kick and scratch and stomp.
Her eyes met Tsubasa over the frozen battlefield. Tsubasa, frozen and transfixed like everyone else.
Her smirk faded into smile.
And the last notes of her swan song fell from her lips.
.
Kanade was staring at her. Smiling at her. And wavering.
That snapped Tsubasa out of her trance and she ran. She almost flew. The people stared at them in awe but they were just a blur to her. And Kanade –
Kanade was falling now, but she was still too far away.
.
She was falling. Her swan song was over. Finished. She couldn't hear the Noise anymore. Nor the people.
Oh, god. She would have blanched if she could. Only the smell of something burnt clung to the air, but she hoped the people at least were safe.
And Tsubasa –
And, suddenly, she could feel Tsubasa. Her arms around her. Her face hovering oh so close…
Her eyes had closed. She opened them. She lifted a hand. She smiled.
Tsubasa…
.
She'd run faster than she ever had to get there, and she caught her falling friend. Too late; the song was finished. But at least she didn't fall.
And that was a pathetic accomplishment, but that was also all she had.
That and the tears falling from her face.
.
Their last concert. Their greatest concert.
Tsubasa went to sing on. Zwei Wing was finished. It was Tsubasa alone.
None of her concerts matched up to the ones she and Kanade had shared together.
And none of those matched up to her swan song.