"No one mourns the wicked
No one cries, 'they won't return!'
No one lays a lily on their grave…."
-No One Mourns the Wicked from Wicked
Akito had died.
And, now, one year later, Shigure was standing before her grave, staring at it. It was dirty; no one had come yet to clean it. Yet? The day was nearly over, as the sun was setting.
No one had come. No one else would come.
Had everyone forgotten what today was, or had they all remembered, and had merely chosen not to come? Shigure had the feeling it was the latter.
Over a year ago, after Akito had attacked Tohru and Kureno, she became an emotional mess. She had tried to change her ways, had tried to accept all the different changes that were coming so often, but couldn't; she grew more and more paranoid about everyone around her, and her hysterics had increased dramatically. Kureno never returned to her after the attack; Shigure was sure that played a large part in her breakdown.
Hatori had wanted her hospitalized, to keep her safe, for sometimes, in her fits, she would strike at herself with anything, and tear out her hair. Once, she'd gotten hold of a pair of scissors, and, for some reason, tried to cut her hair, but she kept missing and cutting her fingers or her scalp. Not soon after that incident, the maids kept her under a close watch.
Shigure had visited her more often than before, and sometimes- or rather, most of the time- it seemed to calm her. This puzzled him a bit; after all, she was usually angry at him. But, for some reason, she'd rarely snap at him or scream anymore. Instead, she almost seemed to cling to him, and many times, she'd just cry, very softly. It was almost a frightening experience, to see her so vulnerable, so willingly. He'd do his best, though, to have her remain calm, for only when he'd try to leave, would she become upset.
One day a year ago, she'd gone missing. The main house was in a state of panic; no one found her until nightfall. Some time the night before, or early in the morning, she'd left her room, and had gone to a small, unused house in the corner of the Sohma estate. It was there, well after night had fallen, one of the help had found Akito. She had hung herself.
Shigure had been very private in his mourning for Akito. He'd gone to the funeral, as was expected, but hadn't broken down. He couldn't allow himself that. The rest of the family saw him as a jovial guy, but that was just a façade at times; it was rare that he would actually show when he was hurt. He remained serious throughout the ceremony, but allowed himself to joke around a little every now and then, just to hide everything else, to keep everyone fooled.
It was only when he was alone, after everyone had gone to bed, that he had let himself break down and cry.
Shigure sighed. This was terrible, exactly what Akito had feared; that everyone would abandon her. And it had happened; now that she was dead, no one cared for her grave, that they had all left her behind. He would have to come tomorrow with cleaning supplies, to take care of this. He'd been hoping that, by coming late to visit, someone else would have cleaned it.
He knelt down and touched the name engraved on the stone. The calligraphy was beautiful; she deserved it. Of course, the family would not allow the God to be buried beneath an ugly grave; the idea was sincerely offensive.
"Oh, Akito," Shigure said softly. "I'm very sorry no one else has come. I'm sure…they're all busy." Ah, even in death, he felt the need to comfort her, to make excuses for everyone else. "But, I'm here. I'll always be here. I've…never left you."
(I am a story-writing machine!)
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