This is... ew. Sorry about the terrible ending. Part three of the Unforgettable 'verse.
I hope you like it though. R&R?
-Sami
-Funeral, Part Two-
"Thou know'st the mask of night is on my face,
Else would a maiden blush bepaint my cheek
For that which thou hast heard me speak to-night
Fain would I dwell on form, fain, fain deny
What I have spoke: but farewell compliment!
Dost thou love me? I know thou wilt say 'Ay,'
And I will take thy word: yet if thou swear'st,
Thou mayst prove false; at lovers' perjuries-" For a minute, Nezumi is Juliet, falling, or rather, who has fallen, for the lovely Romeo. The classic love story. It is the only Shakespeare Nezumi doesn't like, but he also knows it as well as the back of his hand. But he can't remember this damn soliloquy, he can't get it right.
Damn it, acting is the one thing he can always do right! He flips back a few pages in his script.
"My only love sprung from my only hate!
Too early seen unknown, and known too late-" Inukashi bursts into the room.
"The job's done." He knows Inukashi should not be sympathetic. When her Mother died, he had only used her. When her brother died, he called him a stupid mutt and laughed in her face. So why is her voice softer than it usually is, not quite as scathing and full of hatred? They all know pity is a dangerous thing.
He follows her outside. Things were very different now, and they had even change in the week that Shion had died. He feels almost guilty to be happy at not having his red eyes staring at him when he tried to sleep, those eyes that once held fury, and sadness, and frustration and... love... were now dull and empty. He hates those eyes now.
The streets are busier than they used to be around his place, the citizens surprisingly less violent and more... passive. He can easily tell who grew up inside Number 6, and who was cast out. What's the strangest part of it, even stranger than the different people mingling, is that more people seem to be smiling.
Nezumi grits his teeth. What fucking right do they have to be happy? They're in the West District...
Nezumi tries to wish back the dank, dangerous streets with old women dying in the alleyways, children sobbing yelling please we need food, that constant feeling that someone is going to stab you in the back, quite literally.
He doesn't feel that now, and it is strange. These people are happy indeed, the former Number 6 citizens overjoyed at the prospect of real freedom, the former West District citizens overjoyed at the thought of real, new, clothing being sold here and real, new food that isn't moldy or sour, all coming in with the Number 6 citizens.
He hates it. He hates it all and he wants them all to go back to where they came from.
This is his turf, and while he hates to admit it, sometimes, well, he would let himself feel safe on this street that was usually empty, and his small living space with... Shion.
He huffs to himself. He really needs to get over himself. What is he to do, wallow until he dies too?
When they get to Inukashi's lot, his eyes widen. They had dug a hole for Shion, so deep that from the place where he is standing Nezumi can not see inside. The body is no where to be found, which means...
He stupidly peers over the edge.
He has climbed over masses of dead bodies, kicked them aside of the streets, ignored the squish under his shoe when he accidentally stepped on a dead person's hand-
So why does he feel like vomiting?
To his horror, he does. Nezumi never gets sick. He hates it. He thinks it's almost like asking someone to take advantage of you. It makes you weak.
But he retches into the bushes for what seems like forever. His dark hair falls in his face, and the bile gets into it, too- there is no real vomit, for he has nothing to regurgitate- and Nezumi just wants it to stop.
When he is finished he stands up and wipes his mouth, glaring at Inukashi and Rikiga, (who must have come sometime inbetween Nezumi's arrival and the end of his retching) as they stare at him opened mouth.
Rikiga chuckles, and the noise makes Nezumi clench his fist.
"Shut up, old man." He half-rasps and half-snarls.
"Oh, how the mighty have fallen!" Rikiga chortles.
"Shut up!" The boy yells, this time reaching for his knife, and realizing in horror that he's forgotten his knife.
He hates himself these days. He's weak, and he knows it. You're going to die. His own voice mocks him mercilessly.
These days, he wishes he could be an apathetic, ruthless boy as he had always tried to be. It's what one has to do to survive.
But what if I want to do more than just survive? Actually live before I end up like Shion or worse?
The thought catches him off guard.
Rikiga and Inukashi are staring again, and he walked back over to the hole, embarrassed.
"So are you gonna sing?" Inukashi asks. He looks at her for a moment, and for once Nezumi's gaze is not vicious or full of contempt; no, he looks and realizes she has grown in the past few months. She is growing up.
Shion will never grow up. The little boy in his book will never grow up.
Nezumi is going to do this, just like the little boy's funeral. But he won't cry.
"Actually, I'm going to say a few words for Shion." Inukashi's eyebrows shoot up and Rikiga regarded him strangely, but Nezumi turns around, and begins to speak.
"I brought Shion here. He lived in No. 6 until then. He was annoying, clueless, and an airhead." He paused. "Shion was also the strangest person I ever met. He always smiled, always found the good in things. I mean, who the hell does that?" He needs to stop, needs to stop because they're going to laugh at him, he's a fool for doing this because they'll never look at him the same, they'll never take him seriously ever again...
But when he glances up he finds the stupid old drunk tearing up, and Inukashi stares silently at the ground.
"That was beautiful, Eve!" The former exclaims, slightly hysterical. He is definitely not sober.
"Shut up." Nezumi lashes out again. "Must you always be a weak sentimental fool?"
Rikiga is about to yell back at him when Inukashi steps between them.
"Guys! There's no time for this. Nezumi, we had your stupid funeral," Her sympathy is gone. "Now let's cover the body up before it stinks." She takes pleasure in Nezumi's flinch at her words. Maybe now he understands what it's like to bury someone you care for and to have to listen to words like those, words that are the equivalent of spitting on their grave.
She did care for Shion, though. She did. If he hadn't, she wouldn't be there now, handing a shovel to Nezumi. He snatches it from her.
"I'll do it myself." He spits at her. So Inukashi and Rikiga leave, and Nezumi works to fill the hole and cover the marred body until the sun rises the next day.