Again, this is un-beta'ed, so sorry for any grammar mistakes or tenses mistakes whatsoever. English isn't my first language. This takes place on theday after his death. Enjoy.

The day of the funeral had been depressing; too depressing, really. The rain seemed to fall endlessly – I had a notion that even the skies were crying for his death.

I looked around me. Everyone was wearing black – nothing but black – and some huddled closely under their umbrellas while others ignored the rain that was pouring down relentlessly, despite their clothes which seemed heavy with trapped moisture. Packets of tissue were passed around; people taking some out when a packet reached them.

I couldn't bring myself to cry, not even a single tear. It seemed as if my eyes were too dry to shed a single of tear. Somehow, I felt as if it's a shame to myself as everyone around me was crying abashedly, openly for him; everyone except me.

But he knew. He knew that I'd been crying ever since. Maybe it's not crying; just tears escaping my eyes – no hiccups, no strange strangled sound from deep inside – there're just tears.

I went up to the hole they'd dug for the coffin. He was already inside there, the lid covering his still form. I saw him earlier, when we were at the church; he was all dressed up in a white suit, his hair fixed like how he'd liked it, his face powdered lightly so as the deathly pallor it wore since that day wouldn't be that obvious. His arms were arranged so that his forearms lay across his stomach. Even his shoes were polished to their best.

He looked serene though. As if he preferred to be dead. As if death has been the option that he'd chosen all along; as if he didn't mind that he hadn't had a longer life on Earth, with us.

Those who attended the small church service were quite large in number; most of them were friends from various schools, even his archrivals found time to attend the service. His family members were seated on the first few pews; his best friends and closest classmates on the pews directly behind his family members.

We stood among his family members, the handful of us surrounding the six-feet-deep hole; heads bowed down as the priest finished the last of his blessings. Murmurs of "Amen" were heard throughout the small crowd as soon as he finished.

I took a few steps behind and waited as everyone threw their roses in. Mizuki threw a white rose that had a purple ribbon tied around it.

"So as he'd know it's from me. I'll miss him," he had said when asked.

Atobe had thrown in a pink rose.

Even Kaidoh threw a white rose in. But only after he took off the black bandanna he was wearing and knotted it around the frail stem of the rose he was holding.

Tears finally leaked out from the corners of my eyes; it actually hurt when I closed my eyes and let the tears run freely. The rain kept coming down, enveloping me in its icy grip. I was cold, I was wet – soaked to the bones – but I didn't care. I looked over to the others. Kaidoh and Inui were as soaked as I was, and so were the rest.

I finally stepped up to the hole that had been dug. I squatted down and threw in a deep red rose.

I'm missing you already.

Why did you have to go? Why didn't you tell us? Why did you have to hide?!

It hurt to cry. The rain mingled with the tears on my face. But suddenly, I didn't feel the rain anymore. I didn't look up though. Someone put a hand on my shoulder.

"He'll remember you, don't worry."

I looked up to find his sister; tears streaming down her face as well. I got up slowly and pulled her into a hug. "I'm sorry," I whispered. "I'm so sorry." My throat hurt. It felt as if someone had shoved a wad of flannel cloth down my throat, scraping the walls dry – so dry that it hurt.

"Why? Why are you sorry?" Had been her reply. "It's not your fault." Her hold around me tightened as another round of fresh tears threatened to spill from my eyes.

"We should've known. We could've helped." I nearly wailed. But it came out a gravel-y whisper, whisper almost inaudible.

"It's alright."

That simple answer managed to draw more tears from me.

My heart ached when the gravediggers started to cover the hole that they'd dug. Each shovelful of soil that was flung into the hole was like a stab in the heart for me. The sound of the shovels hitting the wet soil, the squishy sound of the gravel and mud-like soil hitting the lid of the coffin was like a punch on that soft area where the ribs end and the stomach begins.

I felt as if I couldn't breathe as I watched the slow process of burying the coffin. But I held on. I stood there, tall and proud. And my heart continued to ache at each scraping sound the shovel made. One painful stab for one shovel of soil. One painful stab for one shovel of soil…

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I promise I'll tell who died when I get my next chapter out from my muse. Thanx for reading and reviewing! Your guesses are appreciated and amusing, really. So, we'll see who's right and who's wrong in the next chapter. Jaa.

P/s: How come there're only 2 guesses - Ryoma and Fuji? Just curious... hehe.