Authoress' Notes: Written for 'nee-san, who said that this was her favourite story.
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I… came back.
If you could, would you be laughing at me for that ? I think you would. But maybe it's only my imagination, because you're certainly not laughing as I can hear it. Nor have you in quite some time.
Nothing ever seems to change here. And since you're here, you haven't really changed, either.
But that's always been the way, hasn't it ? Unchanging. Even when everything you knew changed, you didn't. Nor, I suppose, did I.
You used to glare at me for saying things like that.
You used to glare a lot.
I saw your Other today.
He has become so far removed from the others, so uncharacteristic, no one knows quite what to do with him… and he looked at me, and…
And I could not meet that look.
Why ??
Do you see what you have done to me ?!
Do you see ?!
You're happy now, aren't you ? Of all that has happened, you're laughing somewhere, I know you are because I know you, I know what you would do ! So somewhere you're sitting and smirking and laughing at me as I stand here.
That's what I think.
I could almost believe you weren't dead, except…
… Except you're here, where I can see you.
Your eyes are still open.
Have they stared all this time at nothingness ? Is there anything else left for you to stare at ?
Nothing else comes here.
Just… me.
I would hear your remarks to that, if only you would make them.
But you don't.
Can't.
You're just… quiet, now.
If it weren't so morbid, I would almost think to move you, just so you're not exactly the same as you were when I left you here, but somehow I cannot bring myself to get any closer.
Not yet.
I'm not surprised that nothing has disturbed you here. Nothing else would dare come here now, not knowing that I might return to this place. That alone is enough to ensure that nothing here changes, and nothing will be changed.
There is only one thing I would have changed, and nothing here can do that.
Not even me.
Maybe that's for the best -- after all, who am I to regulate the workings of death ?
It's not my place.
It's not that I am lacking in experience. Far from that. Indeed, the mechanics of death have been in my hands for a long, long time. In one way or another.
You used to hate me for that.
I used to hate you for that.
I guess we were both confident in our own abilities, weren't we ? With good reason, I suppose.
I may never have admitted it, but we were so very similar. I can almost hear you laughing again at that, because we both know that were you not laying here with glass eyes I would have never said such a thing. But we know it to be true.
We were alike, not in method or goal, but in circumstance. After all, who could understand us better than ourselves ?
I have come back, because I remember what has happened here.
That was always our greatest fear, wasn't it ?
To be forgotten ?
We both were, of course.
Already forgotten by history, by time.
But we remembered each other. We knew each other.
In a broken sort of familiarity, we were keeping each other alive.
Alive…
Have I failed, then ?
You are no longer alive.
And already memories are fading – not mine, for like we were supposed to be, they are eternal.
Supposed to be, but…
No longer.
Has it always been this cold here ?
I half expect to see brittle frost, but instead, there is just the cold.
No wonder you look cold; you've been here all this time, eyes open and staring at nothing, unable to feel the cold even though it surrounds you constantly.
You didn't like the cold. Neither do I, for that matter.
Another thing that doesn't change.
Have I been wrong ?
I have been thinking that nothing changes, and yet…
You were not always like this.
Can you remember that ?
When you were not here, and your eyes were not like glass ?
Are you listening ?
You always used to listen. True, you'd scorn and ridicule and show me contempt, but you did listen.
So did I.
Does that make you laugh, too ?
I think it would.
I'd just… rather hear it, than leave it to my empty imaginations.
Owari.