The splendour of colours in the far distance came and went carelessly; that brilliant silver insignia of Shiro's quickly suspended from reality. This was no flippant illusion. Much to the Strain's dismay, there was no protecting the King.
Under the marmalade sky, Neko looks out in the distance, hugging the umbrella she had so vigorously dug for not ten seconds ago. Her mind told her that she needed to give him his umbrella back. She had to. It was Shiro's, not hers. Shiro was hers, but the umbrella was Shiro's. She had to return it. She knew that.
However, she also knows, no matter much she protests, that she cannot. The words 'had' and 'was' mean that the umbrella no longer has an owner to belong to. That word carried weight.
She had to return the umbrella.
Yet she cannot.