The blue of his robes were barely discernable from the shadows whereas the white stood out starkly in comparison. The moon glinted off the katana on his back, showing it's sharp edge to the world. But the raven haired man wasn't concerned about being seen. At three in the morning, normal people are in their beds, warm and safe. Nobody is expected to be walking through a was the exact reason the wanted man chose that time of night to come. Nobody would be patrolling there, nothing in a cemetary to steal but dead and decaying bodies. Not that he would be taking anything. No, he came simply to get closure, to see the proof with his own eyes. To say goodbye.

He walked past the older graves, past the memorial stone with all the names of the fox demon's victims. He even walked past the newer graves, back into the very corner of the cemetary, where it was completely empty except for one headstone.

He stood in front of it, simply staring, barely breathing, for what felt like hours but was probably only minutes. The air whooshed out of his lungs as he sank to his knees, tears streaming down his face without a sound. He slowly lifted his hand and reached out to the stone. He lightly touched the engraved words, tracing the name. He let his hand drop back to his side, thinking and remembering and crying silently.

He sat like that for two hours, not moving a muscle or saying a word. He realized the sun would be up soon, that he needed to leave before he was found. But he couldn't will his muscles to move, the body he had trained for his entire life failed him. It was like he was paralyzed.

Eventually, though, he stood. He looked at the grave and laid down the flowers he had brought, blue and yellow wildflowers he had found and picked along the way. Next to them he place a scrap of paper, with the words he should've said then but he could never say now written on them.

He took one final, long look at the grave, knowing he could never come back, then turned and melted back into the shadows.

Just hours later, a young woman with shockingly pink hair entered the cemetary. At her side, an older man, with prematurely grey hair. The pair both had flowers in their hands, and black bands on their upper arms. They walked to the far corner, to a space empty except for one lone grave, a bouquet of wildflowers and a note.

"Where...?" the girl didn't need to finish. They both knew what she'd ask. No one but them left flowers at this lonely grave. No one else cared. They always came together, to clean it and talk to their friend. The man stepped closer and picked up the note, while the girl looked at the flowers, picking them up and smelling them before laying them next to her own.

At the man's sharp intake of breath next to her, she turned around; her companion looked paler than she'd ever seen him. He silently handed her the note. She took it and started to read, missing the single tear that fell from a closed eye down the man's face. With shaking hands, the girl finished the note, sobbing once before reaching for her mentor and letting the paper drop back to the grave.

Endless darkness.

Endless night.

Without you, there is no light.

The angels stole you for their own.

They took away my only home.

In your arms, I felt safe.

In your arms, I was free of hate.

In your arms, I never knew fear.

You were my equal,

my friend,

year,

after year,

after year.

I hope one day we'll meet again.

But untill then, I'll never forget you.

You will always be my one, my only,

my best friend.