Hey all, just wanted to do a little something for the Day of the Dead, apologize for the delay. Been a bit sluggish in the world, but I don't want to take too much time before the goods, so here's a little Discord link if you want to chill with more Fanfiction writers and fellow anime lovers (expires on November 9th, 2021):

/XAQHH85U

Without further ado, let's begin.

"If the people we love are stolen from us, the way to have them live on is to never stop loving them. Buildings burn, people die, but real love is forever."

- Sarah, 'The Crow' (1994)

A bespectacled woman of short black hair in her mid-thirties made her way to the cemetery, an array of cleaning tools in a bucket, and a broom held in her free hand. She had paid for a service to provide maintenance to his grave once a week for the duration of the year except for this one, as it was somewhat of a personal matter to her. Indeed, while the maintenance of the personal mausoleum was quite different compared to standard chores, she was glad that the building had not aged in the slightest. Setting the bucket and broom near the entrance, she reached into her pocket and reached for a set of keys, grabbing one and using it to unlock the door to the stone structure.

After checking her surroundings, she grabbed a feather duster and began to dust by grabbin the place to get any lingering dust from higher places onto the floor. She then proceeded to sweep the floor with the broom and took a moment to stretch once she finished. Taking a moment to look at the burial plaque and smile, she proceeded to grab a spray bottle and cloth, making sure to clean it without causing any damage. Despite the enchantments imbued on the structure, she checked for any possible cracks or mold on the inside, only to then begin to mop the floor. She put her cleaning utensils aside before checking the outside of the structure for any possible damage, a ritual that was almost like clockwork to her.

She took her cleaning tools with her, but knew that her work was far from done. She made her way over to her home, only to drop off her utensils before teleporting to the mausoleum once more. To those wondering why she did not teleport, it was an odd habit of hers, something about letting the floor dry. Making sure she was alone, she set to making her yearly preparations. The first was the table, and with it two smaller boxes to make it similar to a three-tier altar. What was perhaps the difficult part to her was fixing the cloth so it wouldn't seem out of place, but alas, she succeeded. Heaven, Earth and Hell had not been portrayed better, something she found herself thanking the humans for.

With the cloth in place, she set to setting several items to give the altar a proper appearance: a small container with several types of dice, their colors being black with blue text. Several chocolate bars, a treat the two once shared in secret, set right next to the box of dice. Twelve candles, four to appoint the cardinal directions, and eight as a sign of her loss. A glass of water, to satiate his thirst from the long trip. Sheets of paper (1) attatched to a long string, each sheet presenting a different illustration and of a different color. This had to be, perhaps, the most difficult task when it came to work she did. Sure, she could buy this kind of paper online, but that defeated the purpose. Each sheet represented a memory of sorts between the two: whether the illustration was of an item or an attempt of recreating an event, each one was done with whatever her fading memory could remember.

Flowers on the sides of the mausoleum, a lovely field of marigolds giving a contrast of yellow and orange. A sugar skull on each side of the alter, and a plate with tasty bread in the middle of the bottom layer of the altar. She set a portrait of a young man who seemed to be in the latter years of highschool. Brown hair and matching eyes adorned his features, and taking a good look at him, she grabbed a box full of marigold petals and began covering the mausoleum's ground in said petals. Once outside of said building, she set the box she held aside before grabbing another box and making a small trail of marigold petals from the mausoleum's entrance and back.

Satisfied with her work, she flicked her wrist and ignited the candles, a soft smile adorning her face before she made her way to a chair she had propped up earlier and took a seat. The cold was somewhat welcome, a marigold petal blowing away here and there. As night fell, she sighed, her mind briefly drifting away. As the light emanating from the candles seemed to glow brighter, and she slowly got up, making her way towards the mausoleum's entrance.

"I suppose a cross was not possible given context," a voice she knew all to well said, smiling as he walked towards her. Dressed in a long-sleeved black shirt, matching pants and boots, he had a black leather duster to finish his look, his face painted white with black makeup on his eyes and lips, somewhat reminiscent of a clown.

"Issei, I missed you greatly," the woman said, rushing over to him and wrapping her arms around him.

"And I missed you, my beautiful nymph," he said, looking at her and receiving a look of disapproval. "No? Okay, I can work on that."

"I rather you not," she countered, her gaze softening before she rested her head on his chest.

"Okay okay, Sona it is then," he finished, kissing her forehead. "Come and think of it, why rest your head on my chest? I ain't got a heartbeat."

"Shh, let me have this. Please Ise..." the bespectacled woman said, looking at him with concern. Those eyes, in a look that instilled sorrow in him. Briefly feeling incompetent, but willing to do something to instill comfort, raised her glasses enough to wipe at the tears that threatened to run down her cheeks.

"I will, now and forever. When we are together in the Land of the Dead, we'll be together as long as you wish, my love. You've heard it time and time again, but I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry for the way things turned out."

"No Issei, it was my fault for you dying in my town."

"None of that, Sona. You can't save them all, but you can save as many as you can," he said, fixing her glasses once more. "I believe my beloved requested a dance last year?" he asked, breaking the embrace as he now held her hand, him standing across from her.

"That I did."

"Cute, but alas... we are on borrowed time, and may I mingle with the living on this night granted to me," he ended, resting his free hand on her hip as the two began a slow waltz. The lack of music and conversation was all but a disservice to the two, as in the company they shared when his heart was still beating, they found that silence often spoke volumes. Let it be that they spoke to no end when they were with each other and no one else, or basked in the other's embrace to take a break from the ever-shifting world around them.

As they slowly ended their dance, they made their way to a nearby patch of grass underneath a tree, holding each other's hand as the two took a seat on said grass. Resting her head on his shoulder, he slowly drew circles on her hand in a way to soothe whatever worries plagued her.

"Sona?" the brunette asked.

"Yes?"

"I know it may be too late but... if there were, for some reason, a way to bring me back, what would you do?"

"I, I suppose I would do so in a heartbeat. But then... I don't know if it would be worth the trouble. I don't want to endanger the others just for my selfishness."

"It's a valid concern, and I respect it. I still miss you, and wish there was a way to be in your arms for more than a day a year and yet, here we are. I did my part with my mistress, ended my cycle, and was still offered this bridge that unites us. I'm going in circles but, I hope you don't mind."

"Never."

"Hahhh, so blunt with your answers, but no nonsense to them... don't ever change, honey."

"I don't plan on doing so," she replied, kissing his cheek before going back to resting her head on his shoulder. Time passed, and the entry to the mausoleum flashed a bright white.

"I suppose it's time for me to leave," he sighed, getting up alongside her.

"That it is," she replied in a sad tone.

"I know it's difficult, and maybe you've asked it time and time again, but they need you, I can wait," he said, tears running down his cheeks as he kissed her forehead and hugged her tightly.

"I-I know but-" Sona said, choking on her sobs as she began to cry.

"But nothing. It hurts a lot, trust me, but they need you. You've done great things, you've helped the Underworld improve based on your experiences with the attempt of a revolution. I'm being optimistic, but we'll be together someday, just don't throw your life away. All will be well, please... please trust me," he ended, looking at her before resting his forehead against hers.

"I will," she said, slowly closing the gap between their lips. Time stood still for them, as the kiss reminded them of years gone, friends that had departed in one way or another, and ultimately lead to the same path. Once their kiss ended, he looked at her and said with a sad smile: "Care to walk me to the door?"

"It would be a pleasure."

(1) 'Papel picado', colorful sheets of paper with an illustration that is somewhat cutout.

So yeah, done to try and fuel my love for 'The Crow', as well as to remember my grandfather. May he rest in peace. This said, I want to thank you all for reading. Feedback is always welcome, throw it in the comments or PM me, Discord link for Extalia's Writer Realm is in the first Author's Note. With this said, I hope you all stay safe, I'll see you next time.