Looking Back
Because it's hard.
To say that he didn't look back would be a lie. Because it was harder to look back than it was to not, because if he didn't he could pretend that everything was fine.
So he looked back, tears trickling down his face and leaving a trail of wetness that would never disappear, physically or not.
What're you going to do?
She was gasping for air, cursing the enemy, cursing her allies, cursing herself for being so goddamned weak.
Cursing the war.
"Help," she rasped, eyes bright with pain, "please please someone dear god help."
If God was real, we wouldn't all be in pain.
Death is not silent. It sets off with a boom and crackle. Then the screams come.
Why'd you leave me here?
Death is not ice cold, nor does it burn like hell. It is pain. Pain that isn't cold or hot, pain that simply hurts.
Death hurts because you know you're leaving people that will cry for you and nothing will ever be the same for them. It hurts because you suddenly realize you've done next to nothing in your life and then you're just going to go and leave.
"Why?" she sobbed but it was just the heaving of her body without the tears because she couldn't muster up the strength to actually cry full tears. "Why?"
But there is no answer to such a vague question.
It is under the silence of the night that he stopped crying and began crying.
Everything was so normal it hurt.
Life was continuing on even though it should have stopped without her. It should've stopped because he abandoned her.
Such is war.
He swore to never cry again as his heart broke to tiny shards that would be swept away in the wind.
It figured that she couldn't even die in peace.
Every explosion, every muffled shout she couldn't quite hear through the boulder that was kind of blocking her only served to make her worry.
Was their side winning? Or were the enemies winning?
Most importantly, was her sacrifice in vain?
She cursed every god she could curse.
"Never again," he said, his voice cracking from disuse.
"If that is what you wish," his commanding officer said coldly. "If you wish to let all her work die just like that."
"You don't understand. I can't."
"You can," she hissed back. "You're not the only one that misses her, dammit! This simply means we have to try harder, kill more of their men and avenge her."
"I can't. I can't do this without thinking of her."
"Then think of her while doing it. Remember that all you do is for her so that she may rest in peace, wherever she is."
"I can't even give her a real burial."
"We'll find her body once we finish with the enemy. She'd have wanted that."
"You're her cousin. Have you no feeling?"
The girl whipped around and he stared right back at her unfeeling eyes.
"This is war," she said. "Sacrifices must be made, no matter how much we hate it."
He stared at her, amber eyes blank and fevered with guilt.
"…Alright."
Kinomoto Sakura died in a pool of her own blood.
Li Syaoran died on the battlefield.
Daidouji Tomoyo killed herself after finding her cousin's half-rotting body once the war was over and made sure her cousin was buried with her would've-been husband.
This is war.
"Upon this battlefield, I see chaos. I see heroes, on each side, fighting. I see heroes, each and every single one of them, fighting for what they believe in. I see heroes, nameless, famous. I see heroes, dying pointless deaths, but honorable.
"I see war."
This is something that I could've put in Again. But didn't. Because it was too fragment-y. There were too many little pieces.
