The storm ended a good hour ago, but to Ahiru it seemed like the storm was still raging.
In her mind, that is.
She hadn't budged from her spot in the collapsed shack since she pulled out Fakir's shirt.
The shirt…with blood…
And she solely blamed herself.
Because I really acted like a true Ba-.
No…I can't use his word.
Ahiru thought up the notion of actually looking for him ages ago, but she knew it was for vain. She just couldn't get herself to realize why. She didn't want herself to realize why.
First Mytho, now Fakir. WHY?!
Ahiru got up, and ran deeper into the forest. To the spot where they first kissed…
NO!
Ahiru ran deeper in. She didn't want to see that place anymore.
She found herself surrounded by trees. She sat down and looked at her arm. It was too pale. The blood still flowing, not as fast though.
She took Fakir's shirt she still was holding. She wrapped his shirt around her arm as a crude bandage. It didn't matter that it was already stained with blood.
As long as it's his…
Ahiru pulls her knees up. She knows Charon's frantically looking for both of them by now.
Ahiru knows she can't go home. Charon can't ever find her.
If he can never find Fakir, then he can never find me…
Ahiru sighed. She knew Fakir would never want her to fall apart like this.
He would think I'm a weak Ba-.
No.
Can't use it.
I would be just weak to him.
Ahiru stares up into the sky. What would he want me to do?
Ahiru stands up. He would want me to dance… Right?
She gets up on her feet. She would dance. For him. Even if it's bad…
Behind the trees someone else was there. Someone watching Ahiru. Watching her dance.
Ahiru positions her arms shakily. One of them can't go even all the way above her head, due to her injury.
It doesn't matter, Fakir wouldn't mind.
She begins this dance, not knowing the routine. She just danced to what she thought was next. What her heart told her. What Fakir told her.
Ahiru leaped through the air, pirouetted with her imaginary partner, stood on one foot, and held it.
This was driving her to near exhaustion but it didn't matter.
It was for Fakir.
The someone behind the trees was watching Ahiru's dance with interest. It was so full of sorrow, of pain, of love. Why was she still dancing? He saw her injured arm, her wobbling legs, she was even growing more sluggish in movements, but she wouldn't stop.
Ahiru knew her dance was ending soon, she felt like she could collapse any second, but didn't.
It's for Fakir.
Her body wouldn't listen, she felt her legs give out; she was falling to the ground. It didn't matter though.
It was for Fakir.
The stranger resists the urge to help Ahiru. He knows she has to finish her dance. He still gasps though when he sees what's at the end.
Ahiru struggled to move her arms. Her attempt was pathetic. She still felt like she succeeded.
He wasn't sure, but from where the someone was it looked like she signed the posture for love.
It's for you Fakir.
Ahiru lowered her arms, crossed them.
The someone rushed out of the trees after Ahiru signed Love.
And saw as she began to fall unconscious.
The someone gasped. At the end, what she signed.
Death.
Ahiru's eyes were closing, she saw a shadow watch over her.
Death.
I'll be there soon, Fakir.
The someone lifted Ahiru up.
She barely acknowledged his presence, except for one word, one whisper.
"Fakir."