One year. Quiet walks through forests, teas in small cake shops, chasing after trains. One year of hectic, scary, amazing times with her. And now that time is up. Loud shouts, passengers noticing how eerily quiet our seats are. Whistles blowing from the station. We're in Paris, all right. Or, maybe it'd be better to say… I'm in Paris. I heft her from her seat, and begin to walk calmly down the aisle. Not the aisle I was after. Not the aisle we were traveling to Zurich to walk down. I'm walking the aisle to a casket… A funeral. Shouts now, growing louder, hands placing themselves on me, trying to pry her from my arms.

"What're you doing, sir!?" The conductor asks, noticing my load. "We must ask you to wait for the police to co—" Smacked aside, he lets out a scream as he collides with the wall. Eying him, I walk out the exit, onto the platform. People stare after me, incredulous. It's no fault of mine. The man tried to steal my baggage, so I defended myself. He's the criminal. The criminal trying to take her away… I hear a familiar voice yelling at me through the crowds, which slowly part as I walk through. She'd have probably likened it to something from the Bible, some prophet parting an ocean. This crowd seems far vaster than any ocean, separating me from my goal—the doors. The voice cries out again, and this time, I'm listening.

"Yuri!! Yuri, what're you… Oh God… Alice! … Yuri, what's happened to her? Why isn't she…?" The voice stops suddenly, and when it next speaks, it's drowned out by the crowd. "Don't mo…If… going…bad will happen! Yuri!!" Sending her an icy look, I continue to move down my path. Closing my eyes, I cling tighter to my load, breaking into a sprint as the noise overwhelms me. Screams, shouts, yelps… The devil emerges from me, four bulky wings coming from my back in a burst of white light.

"Yuri!!" The voice calls after me, as I push off the ground, treading the air for a few moments as I bring my wings into action. Feathers cascade down onto the people below me as I skim the air near the roof, before diving back down and shooting through the entrance, startling all the people gathered there. Out, out—into the streets. Up, up—out of Paris, into the skies.

Only then do I begin to cry. Nuzzling her neck as I soar up into the heavens, I grip her tight enough that it feels as though she should burst. Choking out apologies, I rub my eyes against her hair, drying my tears with it. Great gasps for breath, even though I don't need it. Cruising along a current of air, I slow my wing beats, holding her away from me. Porcelain skin, long, white hair, lips with a hint of pink to them—my girl…

So why, why doesn't she look as perfect as she did only hours ago? Why does she just feel like a cheap imitation of my lover? I kiss her deeply on the lips, and a bitter, salty taste seeps into my mouth. She tastes of blood, and a lost battle… That sweet taste of strawberry tarts and lipstick has gone, disappeared. She's not meant to be this way. Not meant to be salty, or cold, or—no, don't think that word. She's not. She's not. A flash of light rides across the horizon as the sun falls asleep. She's asleep, like the sun, right? She'll be back soon. She'll be back soon… She's always back. We sleep. Everything sleeps. And this is just a very deep sleep, with no movement or breath or smile or waking…

…

…

… No.

She's dead.

I can't deny it any longer. She's dead and I killed her. That's just how it is. I'm a demon, I'm a sinner, and the angel who tried to fix me broke in the process. Humans and demons and angels, everything breaks, and some of us break so badly that we can't be fixed. She's like that. She can't be fixed-- by Émigré or herbs or my demons. Divine, human, demonic, all the elixirs in this world… None of them will work. This is it. The final stop on her railroad… And I'm the one who broke the tracks. Why did she have to swap the curse?! Why'd it have to be her?!

Stars blink into life above me, each one staring down at her and I, lights flickering on and off. A huge moon, perfectly white, rises in the distance. March moon—crow's moon, mother used to call it. Crows… I'm always told that I remind people of a crow. My fusions, and their dark wings… The way that, everywhere I go, misfortune befalls people. The dark path of a Harmonixer, I guess. And so this moon-- my moon-- brings sorrow.

A chilly wind breezes through the sky, brushing clouds along hurriedly. All the sky is opening up to watch us, now. Shaking her in my arms, I try to buy into my shallow fantasy again, that maybe she's still alive, but it doesn't work. With every jolt, she flops around weakly, like a rag doll, and still no life comes to her face. I really can't deny it any more. She's gone. She's gone she's gone she's gone and I'm the one to blame.

Best be going then, I guess. One wing beat, then another, then another, and we'll soon be away from here… Away in Zurich. Yeah. I'll take her there. We can see her mother… Just keep going. One, two, one, two. Just think about moving your wings, staying up here. Skim air currents and watch for oncoming birds. Hold her tight as you can.

Hours and hours shoot by, each one punctuated by that sick feeling in my stomach settling in deeper. Each hour means more time spent without her, each hour makes me more certain she's gone. It's freezing up here. Sometimes, I feel my flight falter as tiredness seeps into me. But I've got to… Keep… Going…

Darkness.

My wings, unmoving.

The air rushing past us.

I catch us, just before we hit the ground.

And then crumple down, asleep, pulling her near to me with the last of my strength.

In my dreams, I'm crying.

When I wake up, someone's fingers are running through my feathers, stroking them gently. Is it her? I glance up, and see two small children. Of course it's not her. She—she—

I let out a loud wail as I remember yesterday, scaring the kids away from me. One of them picks a rock up off the ground, and throws it at me, hitting me in the face. The cut it makes on my forehead begins to bleed, but heals up before even ten seconds have passed. Wide-eyed, the children grab each other's hands and run away screaming. That's it. Run. Run before I kill you too. Everyone who stays with me dies… That's the story of my life.

So, where is she? I look around. Underneath two of my wings, she slumbers, pressed up against me. Why didn't I notice her before now? Her jacket is damp… I think I've been crying into her all night long. Scooping her up into my arms, I get to my feet, kissing her good morning. The sun shines in the sky, all the heavens alight with a pale blue. A blue the color of her jacket… And the suns rays stretching out, a brilliant white… Like her hair, snaking down her shoulders. She was my sunlight, so why has dawn come again today, the first day she's not here? Jumping into the air, I climb upwards slowly, trying to just keep my eyes on the ground as much as I can. Away from the white-and-blue morning. Her colors. Her colors.

Gone-gone-gone-gone-gone.

She's not here, stop being silly

You knew this was going to happen.

I berate myself for letting all this occur. In the distance, I notice black clouds. Black clouds in my path. I'm traveling into the darkness, where no-one will find me. Maybe it's better that way.

Has it really only been a day? It feels like an eternity since I've seen her smile. She used to sleep with that tiny smirk on her face, and then when she woke up, it would burst into a huge smile. She'd say my name, and bounce into my arms, glad we had both survived the night—nights often spent in sprawling, abandoned manors, or rocky caverns, hiding from monsters that hunted our blood.

Everything is silent up here. It's as though everything has stopped along with her. I've probably been up here for hours now, even though it doesn't feel like it. I've never had a good sense of time… But then again, what is time when there's nothing to do with it? In the city underneath us, lights flicker on, and people abandon the streets. Where am I going, again? What's the point of all this? Am I going the right way?

Why couldn't the world be laid out like one of the maps she showed me—clear lines etching their way through mountains, marking one country from the next, huge dots appearing with city names scrawled next to them. I'd be able to safely tell myself to land somewhere, and know I was going the right way… What is the right way to go for this, anyway? North? South? North-west?

… She was always the one who knew where to go. Stop at this city, rest the night, and walk all of tomorrow along the mountainside—then we'll be in the right place. Follow the train tracks along the countryside, and we'll get to London. She knew these things. She had grown up traveling Europe—train, boat, on foot—with her father. I spent my childhood learning how to ride trains without paying for them, and how to get from one dirty city to the next, following my instincts. France, England, Switzerland—they're not my places. I've got no intuition on where to go. My methods come here to die.

Wait… I think I see something... This city… A river runs through it, branching into a huge lake. Her words come back to me… 'Wait until you see it, it's an incredible city'… 'The Limmat river runs through it, and branches into a huge lake—Lake Zurich'… 'I hope that you like it, mother and I always used to walk alongside it together'.

This is it. This is Zurich.

… I can't land here. I can't see her mother. Not like this. Not with her. I'll be arrested… I'll be locked away… I'll be kept away from her… I have to do something with the body.

Swooping around, I head back out of the city, and begin to watch the fields below. I have to find somewhere nice to bury her. Somewhere sunny, and green—secluded. Noticing a small pasture, I close my wings in, and plummet down. The black clouds from earlier in the day hang right overhead now, and I hear crackles of thunder approaching. Bright lights flash in the sky, far away. A storm is coming.

As the wind, previously gentle, begins to pick up, tossing the leaves around in the trees, I land. My bare feet recoil as they hit the cold, damp grass. Placing her down as gently as I can, I shift back into human form, a wave of nausea hitting me as I force back the power of my fusion. Staggering, I look across the grass. A tree grows alone up ahead, its thick trunk showing its age. A sturdy tree. It can protect her, even when I'm gone. Zurich isn't my place… I only came here for her. As soon as I've done everything here, I'll take back to the skies, and live alone until I die. It's the best way to save everyone from my misfortune. I've already cost too many people their happiness, and their lives.

Picking her up, I falter under her weight. It was so much less when I was fused… Now I'm just a normal human again, she feels leaden. Walking to the tree, I bend down, and plunge my fingers into the dirt, gripping the mushy soil in my hands. Tearing out a clump of grass, I toss it back behind me. Part of my mind yells at me—she'd have wanted a proper Catholic burial, she'd want to be in a graveyard, she'd want a prayer, a eulogy, anything but this—but I ignore it.

Another onset of tears. I'm lucky the sky hasn't joined in mourning with me. I have to keep her presentable. Realizing my digging isn't nearly fast enough, I fuse into one of my Earth spirits, and let out an almighty howl. Shifting apart beside me, the ground forms a deep, rectangular hole, exactly six feet deep. Picking her up, careful not to hurt her with my claws, I jump down into the hole, and using the power of my fusion, reform the bottom so that the grave is lined with rock. Placing her down, I carefully move her so she looks comfortable.

Climbing back out, I shift a slab of rock over her with another howl. Satisfied that she's now covered, I bend down and begin feeding the dirt back into the hole very quickly, until she's nothing but a memory, deep underground, surrounded by rock. A makeshift grave, in every sense of the word… But at least this way, I don't have to face the world holding a corpse, and wake up every morning to her face.

I wait, for what seems like hours, staring at the grave.

…

…

… Oh, God no…

… I'm never going to see her again.

As it suddenly dawns on me, I collapse onto the freshly shifted soil, pounding my clawed hand against it. For the first time in what feels like days, I truly show my feelings. De-fusing, I let out a cry.

"She's gone!" I shriek. "She's gone—" I pound my hand down.

"Gone!" Another blow.

"GONE!!" Before I can bring my hand down a third time, something—no, someone—catches it.

"Whoa there, sonny boy." I look up, and see the face of an old man, with red glasses perched on the tip of his long nose. Giving me a smile of understanding, he lets go of my hand. Taking it back, I push myself up onto my knees, tears streaming down my face. Rain begins to sprinkle over us, and the old man pulls his green hat down to shelter his face. "Are you okay?" He asks cautiously.

"Wha'does it look like, gramps?" I grumble, beginning to get to my feet. He eyes the grave, before looking back at me.

"I'd wager that you aren't." Folding his arms, he walks around me, and stands beside the freshly dug tomb. "Are you an undertaker, kid? Or a criminal…?" I don't answer.

"Criminal it is, then. Is she family?"

"She's… My girlfriend." He smiles a bit, before backing away from the grave.

"So, we've got a regular Romeo and Juliet here, then." Making a noise of disapproval, the old man turns away from me. "That was some talent you were showing off be—"

"Don't call it that."

"Mm? Don't call it what?"

"A talent."

"… Hrrm. Fine. Still interesting, though. I saw it from the road that way—thought I had seen a demon!! I came as fast as I could, but the old bones aren't what they used to be, so… Kid, are you listening?" I've already migrated back to the grave, where I'm smoothing over the dirt, ignoring the old man. My white gloves have turned brown from all the muck. I'm going to need to buy new ones. "Kid, you—"

"Please, just leave me alone." Turning around to face him, I consider changing into one of my fusions and scaring him off.

"… Her name was Alice, wasn't it?" Huh?

"Yeah." The man nods sadly. "How did you know?"

"She was my niece." Pushing his glasses up, he looks to the sky. "I saw a glimpse of her, just as you were putting her away down there. I would recognize that silver hair anywhere." I get to my feet.

"Do you know the way to her mother's house?" I ask, remembering that I have no idea where it is—she mentioned something about it being on the East bank of Lake Zurich, but I never got a street name, let alone a number.

"Yes." That's all I need to know.

"Can you show me the way? I have to try and explain this." I motion to her.

"Sure. Are you sure you'll be alright to face her mother, though? I'm not sure you'll want to be trying to explain her death while you're in this kind of state." Wiping my eyes with the back of my glove, I laugh half-heartedly.

"Yeah, I'll be fine." I deserve the grilling I'm going to get. Turning and beginning to walk away, the old man pauses after a few steps.

"… My name's Gepetto, by the way." He calls back to me.

"I'm Yuri." I respond, pulling my gaze away from her grave, and frowning. "Yuri Hyuga."

Taking a step away from her, I wince. The rain pelts down harder onto my skin, lightning igniting the sky up ahead. Hesitant to follow the old man, I throw a glance back to the grave. Before I know it, the old man is next to me, yanking me forwards.

"Come on." He tells me. "You've got to pull yourself together."

"But she—" The old man shakes his head.

"Yuri, just ignore it. She'll still be there tomorrow, and the day after that, and even a hundred years from now." Dragging me onwards, the rain doesn't seem to faze him. "Ignore it all. Ignore her, ignore whatever happened that put her six feet under—ignore the storm." Still pulling me, I hear him laugh darkly to himself.

"No matter what it might seem now, the sun will rise tomorrow. Trust me."

And we walk forwards toward the dawn.