To Bury Oneself
The sun shines unbearably on the village, windows reflecting the glare. In a largely shady spot, scattered in neat rows and patterns, are slabs of stone with engraved names and dedications. Amongst them all, is a grave, empty and isolated. While the others have roses and stargazers and carnations, It lies there, barren.
"Tsk. What a waste of space." Someone says towards the lone grave, her tongue clicking in a foreign dialect. "What idiots." She turns away, staring into the bright sunlight. A gray bandage covers one of her eyes. Facing the memorial, she smirks, and kneels. She traces over the faded embossing, and laughs bitterly, staring at the grave.
Because it is hers, Tenten thinks. It's her grave.
And even after faking her tragic death, they still do not recognize her. Even as her "death" was in protecting the cause of the war from the war itself.
"Goodbye, Tenten." She says, and walks away, while the graveyard caretaker eyes her warily, a grimace on his lips, as he goes to report the visitor.