The sound of that despairing cry made the blood rush to Rivaille's ears. He knew whose voice that was, and he knew instantly that there could only be one reason for it. He was on high alert as he maneuvered himself to that direction, his heart beating dangerously inside his chest.
It can't be. It can't be. It can't be.
There is no fucking way.
To the untrained eye, the lance corporal would have looked to be rushing, faster than the wind could have ever made him. But if one focuses on every little minute detail he made as he jumped from tree to tree, they could see just how heavy he was becoming. The weight of frustration, worry, fright pulling him down.
The smell of iron got stronger and as much as he was used to the smell, his stomach plummeted to the bottom and he tried to will away the fears and doubts that were creeping up on him as he drew near.
But the first body appeared and for a moment, he almost stopped. He almost stopped to mourn, to cry, to scream. But no. He was a soldier. And despite the pain stabbing at him, he moved on.
One by one he passed them. Motionless. Lifeless. Dead. And every time he took a quick glance, he felt like his chest was being torn apart. He can't spare a second. He can't stop for a single second. He was a soldier. He had a job. He can't.
But he did.
He came to a stop on a low branch and he stared at the cold eyes of the only woman he had welcomed into his little group. She was kneeling and her body faced towards the heavens as if to ask why.
As if to ask him why.
He was afraid he couldn't answer her. Not this time. Unlike those times where those eyes shone with such eagerness. So much warmth. So much life. This time, he can't turn to her to give her a smile that he had reserved only for her.
And there he clenched his fists and wondered. Why? Why did it have to be them? Why did it have to be her? Why did it have to be him?
And as he took one final, sorrowful look at the cold stone face that had before lit up his days, he had given himself an answer.
Because.
Because.
Because.
Because in this line of work, there can be no doubts. No hesitation. No fear. No tears.
Only anger.
And with the weight of the blade he carried, he will make sure that that anger manifests itself in ways that others will ask why.
a/n i haven't been writing since. ever. and i wanted to get back into it considering writing used to be the thing that kept me going whenever i had problems in my life i just wanted to run away from. and right now. i kind of need that escape back. i'm sorry if this turned out stupid. i'll try better next time. i still hoped you guys liked it and thank you for taking the time to read it.