Disclaimer: All characters and locations belong to their respective owners, ©2004-2008.
A/N: We're nearing the end, folks. Only one chapter left to finish (because yeah, I decided to split it again; that and I wanted to make this fanfic easy to read, story-line aside). All I can say is if you don't like canon characters going completely OOC, (as you'll soon find out) then please turn back.
Otherwise, please enjoy and R&R. I would love to read your reactions!
(PS. This chapter goes out to you, markesellus! Hope you like it!)
"Abandon all hope, ye who enter."
-- Dante Alghieri, "The Divine Comedy - Inferno Canto III"
Canto II
CATHARSIS
PLAY.
Cold grey steel. There's so much steel. The walls, the floor, the ceiling; they're always cold to the touch. Beautiful they may be, but there is something missing. It isn't a physical absence, per se. The ship with its sturdy construction and refined planning didn't put her off in the least bit. Scents of lavender tinge the atmosphere in ghostly will-o'-the-wisps. Asura's motley crew of colorful technicians and brave soldiers wander the halls, their footsteps tapping rhythmically to time's metronomic pulse.
She realizes, to her discontent, what this missing jigsaw puzzle is.
The steel is no longer warm.
She huffs. This is the reason why she's here. This is the purpose the Gods have proposed and she wholeheartedly accept it. If someone asked her to pick between a red pill and a blue pill, no matter how ignorant or obvious the choices are, she would refuse to do so. I forgo my own path, she would say.
Well then, says the stranger. Do what you must.
And I will. Ironically, she finds she is the person who has to restore order. She will bring their smiles back. She will smite the desolate fog diluting their good cheer. She will deliver hope and drag its ass out of the suffocating fire. (She is the one to bring about the Metamorphosis, but this she shall never know. It will be as if destiny took its own course.)
Rain, rain, go away. Don't come back ever again.
Vita of the Wolkenritter huffs, shifting Graf Eisen to a more comfortable position over one shoulder. 'Time to perform my sacred duty.' Holy, holy, holy!
She walks down the corridor alight in the glow of a distant sun. There is no need to rush, but there is no need to further delay the inevitable. To her right is the dormitory, each room categorized alphabetically. The war cruiser could only accommodate so many men and women, and with the numbers growing plans had to be made to resolve the problem of maximum capacity. The floor she strides is the second of five floors, the first being the basement in the hull (containing Arc-en-Ciel, the infamous weapon of mass destruction) and the fifth a warehouse for vehicular transportation. The remaining floors are the resting quarters, twenty-five rooms for each occupant(s). The higher you go the more luxurious and private they are made.
Central Command happens to be at the end of the T-junction. People greet her along the way and she returns with a lazy, dismissive wave of a hand. (Because they notice the large war hammer bobbing in her grasp, glinting menacingly under the strobe lights. And right away they keep their distance, the hairs on their necks standing ramrod straight and perspiration rolling off their bodies in cascades. Vita ignores this and moves on.)
The general rhythm of conversation and working metal grows louder with each step, a massive hive looming on the horizon. The numbers wind down to their double-digit prisons, letters and symbols proudly displayed in large, bold, black print. Every door the Velkan Knight passes is closed shut, possibly password-encrypted if a person's low sense of paranoia is necessary. They, too, are steel, but these doors that hold memories and secrets and trysts bear the presence of warmth and harmony that is undoubtedly lacking.
The door before her, however, is an exception.
She eyes the plaque card labeled TA-04. In its tracks there is a tiny crevasse. Whispers emanate from within. Pressing herself against the wall, she slides forward and places a blue iris into the portal.
It's dark in there, solid and pitch black, but from the window behind her a sliver of sunlight pours in. A lone figure stands in the midst of the glow, a painting of noir fiction and postmodern angst. Her hands are on the surface of a cabinet, tightening into fists. There's a mirror above the cabinet, a realm of liquid silver. But she doesn't look at it. She avoids the pathetic image that she is, hides the overflowing well of emotion as they spill from canyons in needle-thin droplets. (Because it's said that God resides in wood; you knock on wood and He gives you good luck. It's also believed if you cry just enough He'll forgive you of any wrongdoings you may have done.
(. . . . It's been six days.)
Choked sobs are escaping from her throat. Her forehead touches the glass. Her shoulders shake, and she cries. And cries. And cries. And cries.
It sickens her. It sickens Vita to her very core. Her blood roars and fire kindles in her heart, but at the same time it only strengthens her resolve. A growl rises in her throat, but the Velkan Knight pushes it down with all her might. There's nothing more to see, her mind decides. She leaves in a huff and doesn't care whether Nanoha hears her or not. (Because she's too busy ripping herself apart and sewing it back together again. So she can destroy the foundation of purpose and drown with a whimper and not a bang.)
She enters Central Command without fanfare save for the soft rush of wind that opens the door. The techs are at their stations reporting whatever shows on their monitors and Chrono son of Lindy directs his orders from his place atop the Bridge. Nodding knowingly, Vita heads on up there and hails him with a salute. The Captain is surprised to see her make such a rare appearance, but nonetheless he gives her his full attention (fighting the urge to gawk at the ominous Graf Eisen).
"What can I do for you?" asks he.
"A couple things, actually," says she. "I need to know the exact time Nanoha goes to the gym."
"The gym?" Chrono parrots. He arches a blue-black eyebrow and taps a finger to his chin. "Well, uh, it's four o' clock Galactic Time Standard. She usually goes around this time, but what with the Fallout--" At this he gives a sad frown. Cosmic irises look on in metaphysical dimensions, but is then swept aside by his casual demeanor. "--she goes a lot later."
"How late?"
"Somewhere 'round five or six."
"Okay. And has she come out yet?"
"No. Not since her encounter with Fate, which was three days ago."
Now it is Vita's turn to frown, but it comes out as a grimace. She finds it disgusting (truly, terribly disgusting) that Nanoha can even think to hurt someone (anyone, everyone, it didn't matter. Nanoha was nothing like that. Not until the Fallout. The Fallout made her tailor her own personal hell), but that isn't the point. To hurt the one who cared for her, looked for her, smiled for her and loved her (loved her indeed, because Vita and Chrono and the Wolkenritter and Asura's techs and soldiers know it and they know that not even the most cold-hearted Gods can condemn pure, unadulterated love. But Fate is just starting to realize this, starting to realize who she wants to spend the rest of her life with, who she wants to protect with all her being and who she will sacrifice herself for the sake of the greater good) is a crime that can't be left unattended.
Vita won't let it happen (and she swears on this because she is the one who has to restore order. She will bring their smiles back. She will smite the desolate fog diluting their good cheer. She will deliver hope and drag its ass out of the suffocating fire). It is her duty.
"I see," she says after a brief, awkward pause. "So it's somewhere in between."
"Yes," the Captain affirms, "but why do you want to know?"
Now this may seem like it needs a little bit of convincing, but the Velkan Knight has this all planned out. Five minutes of her walk gave her enough incentive to go with it and not look back with nary any regrets. The others may find it harsh, brutal and against protocol, but she doesn't care what they think of it. You want to help someone, you need to do it the hard way. Pampered comforts don't always work.
So she tells him, gives him every detail and reason to believe that this idea of hers will work. She explains about locks and surveillance and Graf Eisen and tells him if they try to interfere with her they might as well eat shit because if they want Nanoha back they're going to her get back and they'll thank her for doing the right thing no matter how wrong it is to them. And Chrono's protests go on deaf ears for a half hour before he gives up and allows her to do what she pleases.
Vita leaves the stunned crew with a smirk on her face.
The gym is on the other side of the T-junction. Peoples of various ranks are training themselves for a chance at promotions; sparring one another at the punching bags, undergoing barrier summoning endurance tests, meditating on Linker Core device connections, running laps on the track. She surveys the place warily, ignoring the various, perplexed glances until she finds an empty space by the bleachers.
Sitting down she pulls from her uniform pocket a white cloth and a small container of wax. She applies the wax to the cloth and polishes Graf Eisen's head and the length of its handle.
The waiting game begins.
REWIND.
The static is unbearable. She can barely hear what they're saying (because parting is such sweet sorrow, and yet the lingering aftertaste of their departure is a little too bittersweet for her to keep down), but this is what she remembers.
There is Nanoha. Nanoha is lurking the halls. She is a mess. Her uniform is wrinkled, untucked, unbuttoned. Her long, silky, terracotta mane is tousled and flat. Her steps are slow and unsure. She does not speak, does not acknowledge anyone. Eyes of the most beautiful shade of blue are dead, abysmal black and distant. She walks, and she does not stop until she is in the confines of her room, safe from the questionable minds and pitiful glances sent her way.
And she cries. And cries. And cries.
And she can't take it anymore. She can't bear to see her suffer like this. So she hurries after her and when she gets there she grabs hold of her arm and stops from her going any further.
Nanoha does not look at her.
"Nanoha," she says, her voice cracking. "Nanoha. Talk to me. Let me help you."
Static. She hears her answer along the lines of There's nothing you can do to help. Leave me alone.
"I don't want you to," she recalls straining. "I want to be there for you."
There's no need to.
"But I want to. I want to be the shoulder for you to cry on. I want to hold you and comfort you."
You can't take my pain away. (It's only until now that she remembers this.)
"Just give me a chance. Let me make things right."
And that's when the static clears and everything she hears and sees and feels is in perfect, perfect clarity.
"Don't you see!? You can't! You don't know how I feel! You don't know what it likes watching every squad member and refugee get slaughtered right before your very eyes! You've never stared into someone's bloodied face with an eye socket gaping back at you! You've NEVER had BLOOD on your HANDS!"
She's in front of her now, angry and weary. Their faces are mere centimeters from touching and she feels a stirring in her gut, but it is out of fear and not the strange, throbbing sensations she has been having when they are in close proximity. Those fists are balled and that gaze hard as stone. She has never seen such raw emotion before. (And she realizes this face does not suit her. This is not the Nanoha she knows. This is not the Nanoha who went to great lengths saving her from the darkness in those years bygone. This is not the sweet, innocent girl she's come to love.
(And she does not like it.)
"They should have killed me!" roars the White Devil, gesticulating wildly. "They should have killed me instead! Not Tsuzakun or Sun Squad or Moon Squad or any of those refugees! I should be dead!"
"You don't mean that . . . ."
"But I do! I mean every fucking word I said! If I died everyone would still be here, but because of that mission I failed them!"
"That's not true. They protected you, gave up their lives so you could live on and maintain your legacy as a soldier of virtue. They did what they had to do to ensure your safety."
And then, all focus is attuned in high definition.
"They didn't deserve to die! They didn't deserve to be lead by me!" A furious, ugly rictus crosses her beautiful features, and it is then the monster in humanity presents itself in a wicked snarl.
"I don't deserve this position!" She tears the TSAB badge from her vest and flings it to the ground, which clatters loudly on the cold floor. "I don't deserve being a mage!" Raging Heart is unclasped and it, too, joins its brethren (like a heavy teardrop sliding down the surface of a steel gray soul). "I don't deserve any of this!"
(It's starting to fade to black . . . .)
"I don't deserve you!"
(The colors are running and the picture's melting . . . .)
. . . . Wh-What?
I don't deserve your kindness. I don't deserve any of your compassion.
(The voices are distorting . . . .)
--Why do you wish all this?
Don't pity me, Fate. I'm not worth it.
(. . . and exit stage left.)
Now . . . now she's alone. All alone. Everything has lost its warmth. Everything is numb to her touch, pressed flushed against a cotton barrier of static. The walls have spoken their secrets and they wish to keep mum while they watch two hearts gripped by pain and despair spiral to oblivion (dark, dark oblivion where only shadows reside and suffocate their victims with no remorse to blind their narrow-minded ambitions).
The spot on her left is empty and lifeless. She sets a hand on that void sarcophagus with fingers spread forth while the other clutches the abandoned emblem to Bardiche's golden core (and it's cold cold cold and it'll keep getting colder until there's only a husk and nothing else).
Her heart won't stop aching.
FAST-FORWARD.
The doors to the gym open with a sigh. Vita averts her gaze from Graf Eisen to locate the source of the sound.
Lo and behold, here comes Nanoha Takamachi. And what a surprise! she looks better than the fucking tornado she came out of three days ago. Her clothing, that loose-fitting attire she wears to increase fluidity in her movement, is actually in one piece!
Vita can't help but smile inwardly, but as soon the last of the clerks leave and the doors softly slam shut the facade is immediately dropped.
No turning back. No hold's barge.
It's showtime.
"Hello, Nantoka," greets the redhead Velkan Knight, aware of the mispronunciation of her name.
The Tenth Regional Officer perks up and gives her a double take. A second later she puts on an amiable mask and (forces) a smile unto those (traitorous) lips. "Oh. Hello, Vita. What brings you here?"
"I should be asking you that," The dark edge in her tone barely escapes, "but don't mind me. How's life treating you?"
She looks away for a moment, distant and ashamed. Once, twice, does she blink, and she resists the urge to hold and rub at her arm (as if it's a bug zapper and she is the moth who flies near it; lands on its lighted surface and endures the unbecoming torture that follows). "It's okay. . . . I've been thinking a lot, is all."
"Ah," says the Knight, nodding her head understandably. She gestures to the center of the gymnasium. "Why don't you come on over and tell me what's on your mind? I could be of some help."
Nanoha cringes. "I don't think you can."
"Why is that?"
She fidgets. "Well . . . it's personal. I mean . . . I'm sure you've heard about it, but . . . ."
"But what, Nantoka?"
A shuffling of feet, hands clenching. ". . . But it's hard. Hard to say . . . how I really feel about . . . about . . ."
"The Fallout?"
She flinches, folding in herself, hiding from the world (a cruel, cruel world). What an unsightly display it is! seeing the stalwart White Devil cower like a lost child weeping in the dark, dark oblivion!
What a perfect, pathetic fool.
". . . Y-Yes," answers Nanoha forcefully. Her brow creases and her lips twist in a scowl, "but it's none of your business."
"You're right," Vita states diplomatically. "It's not my business. But does it stop me from asking why? No."
"You weren't there."
"Are you guilty because you're alive? Are you guilty because the people assigned to you are no longer among the living? Are you devastated because you could not save them, because you could not join them in death's cold embrace?"
A low growl. "Stay out of it."
"Or is it that . . . you are too ashamed to admit you are weak?"
"SHUT UP!" snaps the white mage, lips curling over hot pink gums. "Just shut up! You don't have any say in how I should or should not perform in the line of duty!"
"As a matter of fact, I do."
"Keep it to yourself. I don't need your sympathy."
"I wasn't going to."
"Then what do you want?"
Vita cants her head to the side and bats her eyelashes. "What do I want? I'll tell you what I want." She rises from the bleachers and grabs Graf Eisen. Four silver balls materialize in mid-air, and the red and black Knight Armor wraps around her small frame. "I want you to wake the hell up!"
The mallet taps the first ball and, in the stunned silence, follows up with these words:
"(SWALLOW FLIER!)"
Nanoha has only a second to blink before the resulting explosion knocks her off her feet. She recovers in a backward somersault, but the speed of the second and third orbs forces her to back-flip away from the strikes. The last one is dodged in a hasty maneuver and leaves a remarkable dent in the wall behind her.
The face Nanoha wears is uglier and meaner than when she disowned Fate. If anyone, any one person, were to witness the madness rolling from her pores in waves and the murderous (sweet murder!) intent in that glare, their fear would root them to the ground. Their awe would transcend Freud's id, ego, and super-ego beyond the stars and the mere whisper of the White Devil's name would make them hollow.
But not Vita. Never Vita. Vita doesn't give a damn what happens to Nanoha.
"This is a breach of protocol!" shouts the enraged girl.
"Your point?" considers the other.
"You're attacking an officer of the Ground Defense Force in violation of the Administration Bureau's code of conduct!"
"So?"
"I'll have you reported for this!"
Vita grunts and responds with a familiar, universal hand gesture. "Like I care."
The look Vita receives would make hell freeze and thaw to water in a split second.
Nanoha reaches a hand up to her neck. "Let's go, Raging Heart! Now! You, me and--"
--her hand clutches air.
"Looking for this?"
Nanoha chances a glance at the Velkan Knight, but what she sees makes her blood run cold and her mouth dry to a barren wasteland.
Dangling in between the child's fingers is Raging Heart, dully gleaning crimson in a slow, long strobe light effect. There seems to be a smirk grazing her lips but Nanoha isn't so sure there is one (because the mind is a god of tricksters, and it revels in the loss and confusion that taste like sugared gum drops when its victims stumble in the labyrinth of their psyche).
She's too shocked to form a coherent sentence, but the question on her mind and tongue is: "How . . . ?"
"She came to see me after your little tête-à-tête," Vita says flatly. "She couldn't stand holding onto it any longer, so she gave it to me. Told me to make sure Nanoha got this back when all was well and as soon as possible. I kept it in my pocket for three days, three days of passing your room and hearing forgotten, unheard lamentations. They got worse and I got tired. They died quietly and I burned loudly.
"Then, on the third day, she told me everything. Told me how you were acting, how you were resisting, how you were falling. You weren't your good old self. You weren't the golden girl sung in fabricated songs and spuns yarn the Riot Forces would sing on their bar nights. No. You weren't a Devil. You weren't a mage. You weren't a regional officer, a protector or any of that crap."
Her gaze hardens like volcanic rock. Her scowl deepens like the most predatorial beast. Her voice is ice, ice cold and deadly fierce. "But you know what I think? You know what I think of Nanoha Takamachi when her back's turned and she's out of earshot? She's a coward! A failure! This cheap imposter standing before me is not the Nanoha Takamachi I know! She's not the girl who pulled Fate from rock bottom. She's not the girl who saved Mistress Hayate from the Book of Darkness. She's none of that! And I'm tired of this emo-angsting crock of bullshit!"
She pockets Raging Heart and cocks Graf Eisen in front of her. The war hammer ejects three cartridges and seals shut with a hiss.
Nanoha gasps. Her pupils shrink.
Spears of energy hover 'round their master, crackling madly.
("NANOHA!!")
"I believe this is the part where you run like a little bitch."
("NEVER TURN BACK!")
"(DEADLY PUNISHMENT!)"
And Nanoha runs, hell snapping at her heels (hoping to reach the TSAB corvette that was never there).
The room is blast-proof (thank the Heavens!), but the smoke and residue and heat waves make it extremely difficult for her to make a beeline straight for the doors. Her steps are fleeting, haphazard and GODDAMN VITA'S GOTTEN FASTER but she's almost there. Almost there. Almost there. Almost there. Just a little bit further.
Go. Go. Go. Go. Go. Go. Go. Go. Go. Go. Go. Go--
Now those doors were operated to open and close via motion-sensor technology, but it goes to show a slice of the staunch security the Asura is capable of when Nanoha crashes face-first into them. As panic blossoms she flips open a hidden panel on the side of the entrance (for it is required for the crew of all types of cruisers to memorize its layout and schematics) and keys in the digital combination on the tiny computer.
When it replies as 'ACCESS DENIED. COMMAND OVERRUN.' Nanoha starts to break out in a cold sweat.
"You're trapped," shouts Vita. "Got nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. You're on my stage now, kid. We're doin' it Vita's way."
That last sentence alone makes Nanoha's extremities wither inside.
"Let me out!" she cries, visibly trembling. "Please stop this!"
"It's too late for that! You fucked up and now you're paying the price!"
"I don't want to die, Vita! I want to live!"
"Oh, so now you want to live? Is that how cowards fight? Pleading and begging to be spared for actions they couldn't control?"
"I'm sorry! I'm sorry for hurting everyone! I'm sorry for blaming myself! I'm sorry for everything that's happened this past week!"
"You had your chance and you blew it! It's time for you to open your eyes and see the world for what it is!"
As if on cue the silver orb in the wall behind Nanoha detonates, tossing her flat to the floor. Slightly smoking she struggles to stand, but as soon she's on her knees ropes of energy ensnare her wrists, ankles, torso and neck, binding her to a crimson-colored barrier. Eyes wide and fearful she watches Vita approach her; slow, casual, menacing.
"It's really not a new technique, per se," says the Velkan Knight as she gives her black gloves a couple firm tugs. "More like a combination made from an improvisation. I suggested an idea to Central Command the other day. Said we should form an Interrogation and Torture Unit with the best minds. They, or rather Chrono, couldn't stomach the thought of brutal procedure. He overruled it on the spot, but that's okay. He's outranked by Mid-Childa's High Council, anyway. I'll just propose it to them next time we dock off.
"But this technique, on the other hand, is the basis of my idea. It's the answer to a solution that needs to be effective, needs to make people talk and get the point straight across. However, in order for this to work I need a volunteer. I need someone who's got balls of steel. I need a person as tough as steel and impenetrable as a wall of rock." She stops in front of Nanoha. "Except you. You are my whipping toy. You are my test subject. You will go through Das Licht am Ende de Tunnels, the Light at the End of Tunnel."
She leans Graf Eisen against the barrier, which ripples softly upon contact, and smacks a fist to her palm. "What do you have to say for yourself, you little shit?"
There's a thick, greasy blanket in the air and it stifles their breath to quick pants. This is the time for Nanoha to choose one of two paths she must tread, two of the greatest evils in the known cosmos. The highway or the scenic route. Suffer for your sins or beg for mercy. Red pill or blue pill. Live and let learn or live and let die.
Vita doesn't have to even count how long it takes before Nanoha makes that decision.
"I don't deserve this!"
It's the last straw, the final countdown to zero, the ending of an era, the death of time and shadows, the rise of molten lava and sea foam, the eye of the tiger that smolders in the dead of night.
And Vita snaps with a bang and not a whimper.
"You goddamned pussy, stop being fucking SELFISH!"
Her fist, empowered by Velkan magic, crashes into Nanoha's cheek.
"STOP BEING A RECLUSE!"
A second punch strikes the other cheek.
"STOP BEING SUCH A GODDAMNED LOSER AND GROW UP!"
Bam! Bam! Bam! Nanoha's lip splits open and blood inches from one corner.
"It's YOUR fault they're worrying! It's YOUR fault they can't reach you! It's YOUR fault for pushing away the people who love you and care for you!"
Bam! Bam! Bam! A nasty purple bruise starts to swell above her left eye.
"THEY tried to help you! THEY tried to heal you! THEY tried to assure you there's a place beyond this cruel world! THEY tried to tell you they're somewhere better off in Heaven!"
Bam! Bam! Bam! Her head snaps back and hits the barrier with a dull bang!
"But you didn't listen! You didn't bother hearing what they had to say! You just went to the darkest corner in your room and bawled your fucking eyes out OVER AND OVER AND OVER AGAIN WHEN IT WASN'T YOUR FAULT THOSE BRAVE PEOPLE DIED FOR YOU!"
A painful, anguished cry escapes Nanoha.
"They gave you a chance to live! They gave you a chance to carry on! They gave you a chance to further your career and make a name for yourself! Especially that man! THAT MAN swore to protect you with every fiber of his being! THAT MAN risked failing the mission to save you! THAT MAN was a HERO, and you DARE wish to throw it all away? You selfish, SELFISH GIRL! How dare you!"
She stops for a moment, catching her breath. Seconds are lost in eternity and time fades into obscurity.
Nanoha does not dare look up at the devil.
"You are so selfish," hisses the red and black-clad mage. "You are so thoughtless. I hate you. I hate you for causing us grief. I hate you for ignoring us. I hate you for your close-mindedness." Inhale . . . exhale. "But you know what I hate the most? You know what make my blood boil and shakes me to my core? You had the gall to mistreat the most beautiful gem in the galaxy. You had the gall to break the heart of the most delicate rose in the cosmos. You had the gall to rip and tear and forsake your duties and sense of self in front of the kindest, gentlest, loveliest girl I'd ever seen this side of Mid-Childa and back."
Nanoha blinks dumbly. Her lips purse together and a name passes them, but it goes unheeded.
Vita wipes the sweat from her brow with the back of her hand. Her eyes shine and reflect a glassy inner world of infinite oceans and clear, blue horizons (but it's the light, Nanoha thinks. It's the lights from the gym and Vita -- that angry, angry little girl computer program of the Tome of the Night Sky -- can't be that upset to . . . to . . . .)
"You hurt her," she sighs. "You hurt your best friend. You hurt your most precious person." A glare dents Vita's youthful face. "You hurt Fate and made her CRY!"
Nanoha gasps. Her eyes widen--
("Nanoha. Talk to me. Let me help you.")
("I want to be there for you.")
("I want to be the shoulder for you to cry on. I want to hold you and comfort you.")
("Just give me a chance. Let me make things right.")
--and her head snaps back again by a vicious kick to the chin.
"I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU SO MUCH! YOU CAUSED HER SO MUCH PAIN! YOU CAUSED HER SO MUCH GRIEF! I HATE YOU, NANOHA! I HATE YOU!"
The beating goes on for a long time and Nanoha is tossed and thrown about in a world of apocalyptic turmoil. Her vision blurs and coalesce and she can't see through them because the colors are running and the picture's melting and the voices are distorting. Her mind is being torn apart at the very seams and the end is drawing nigh on horses and flaming swords and sounding trumpets.
Finally it ends. The fists and magic and swearing cease and the barrier and snares vanish. The aftermath shoves Nanoha to the gym floor and leaves her a sniveling, sniffling, sobbing excuse of a mess.
"Go! Get out of here!" screams Vita. "Get out of my sight! I don't want to see you ever again! Go back to your room and cry yourself to sleep! Get out of here!"
Nanoha doesn't give it a second thought. She scrambles to her feet and dashes out the unlocked doors and down the hall until her footsteps become mere coughs of philosophy and nothing more than ashes on the breeze.
And Vita grabs her hat and throws it to the ground. She falls into a cross-legged position and buries her face in her hands.
And she, too, cries. And cries. And cries.