A Day Late, A Dollar Short – A Buso Renkin fanfic
Note: In case it's not clear, this takes place before the start of the series.
The sun was high, casting shadows of hundreds of trees surrounding the site. Even so many years later, this place had changed little. Though some life had returned – grass and trees sprouted again, birds returned to their homes – a mass of collapsed stone and dirt still stood out like a wound in the landscape, with an elementary school buried underneath, five years gone.
A single set of footsteps lightly echoed across the well-worn path through the woods. He had walked this way many times since that day. But the pain never dulled.
Like so many times before, he stepped off that path and looked again at the ruins of that school that they – that he – had failed to protect. He pulled off his hat, the sun glaring brightly off of his silver jacket. And as he bowed his head to pay his respects, memories rushed through his mind. Memories of a rainy day, five years ago.
The four stood stock-still, dumbstruck at the sight before them. A great, chaotic mass of stones and mud was strewn across what was once a large, peaceful elementary school. Bricks and torn metal stuck up from the ground, all that remained of walls of lockers. Crimson blood blended with the brown mud. Only a few corpses were left – those who had been lucky enough to survive the homunculi feeding, only to be crushed by a wave of rock.
With a choked cry, he dashed toward the wreckage, silver hat fluttering to the ground behind him. Diving toward a pile of rubble, he began digging frantically – looking for anyone, anything that could defy the fact that everyone was dead. But there was nothing.
Behind him, he could vaguely hear Chitose sobbing, saying something he couldn't understand. Hiwatari had sat down on a stack of stones, oscillating between hysteria and cries of grief. The Warrior Chief could do nothing but morosely stand and scan the wreckage as he called in his report. "This is the first time a mission has failed.
"It seems we were a day late and a dollar short."
Tossing aside the last of the pile, he stood and staggered to the next. "Don't give up! We have to save as many lives as we possibly can here!" But even as he spoke, he slumped to the ground, thoroughly defeated.
A voice from behind snapped him out of his reverie. "Not often I find someone else out here." He turned his head to find an old man leaning on a cane, gazing sadly across the wreckage.
"Sometimes I wonder how they decided to keep this place as a memorial, what with no one ever coming. Guess the fact that they didn't really need the space helped. This school was always a bit remote, but it was a nice place. Always quiet. My granddaughter loved it here." As his words echoed across the strewn stones, a bank of clouds slowly began to encroach the sun, casting shadows over the ground.
The man let out a wry laugh. "My pa always told me to get buried somewhere I loved. Seems my grandchild beat me to it. There's a cruel irony to that. She was always so sweet..." He trailed off, lost in memories.
"I've never seen you around here, stranger. I think I'd remember if I did, even in my old age, if you always dress oddly as that." The man said, gesturing to the Silver Skin. "Still, I'm always glad for company out here. If you feel alright talking about it, mind if I ask who you lost here?"
The clouds above darkened, and a light rain began to fall. Bravo solemnly donned his hat once more, but it was too late. Streaks of water coursed down his face.
"Everyone," he replied.
Strangely, some of them tasted of salt.
A/N: Dang. That was angsty. I don't think I've written anything like that before. Everyone, tell me what you thought about it... which means, read and review. Seriously. Reviews are nice.
And for those of you waiting for an H+H update... it should happen eventually. I'm not going to let that, my first and best-recieved story, die. Probably.
Thanks for reading,
Shadowed Bankai.