Author's Note: Aw, this was a sad one to write. It's a little strange, but keep in mind that Mitsuko and the other Program kids are sort of stuck in limbo, while Setsuko ages normally.
Mitsuko x Setsuko
Prompt: My character will visit your character's grave.
It was the best and worst time of the week.
Best, because Mitsuko was visiting Setsuko.
Worst, because Setsuko was gone.
Mitsuko never came here without flowers. She felt that even in death, Setsuko should always be surrounded by beauty. The flowers were always a wide variety of colors, and there were enough of them to surround the grave completely. It was as if by placing them, she thought that she could erase some of the overwhelming sadness.
This, of course, was not the case.
She knelt down and bowed her head. "Hey, Setsuko," she whispered, her eyes already beginning to sting. "I hope you're doing alright, wherever you are… I'm sure it's somewhere nice. You deserve that." Mitsuko raised a hand to wipe away the wetness on her face. "I just wish I could be there, too."
Mitsuko cursed her own immortal body. She wanted to die — for real, this time, without coming back. It had been over eighty years since she'd met her honorary sister, and physically, she hadn't aged a day.
"I miss you." Mitsuko's voice was trembling. "I miss you so much. I wish you were here, but I'm glad you got to move on. But it's not the same without you."
She was weeping freely now, as she did every time she visited this place. She knew it was selfish to want Setsuko back. The girl had lived a great life to a very old age, and then she had died — that was how it was supposed to work. For that, Mitsuko loved her, hated her, and envied her — but mostly, she just missed her.
She reached out to brush her friend's tombstone. Mother, wife, daughter, sister, and friend. Setsuko had no biological siblings, but her honorary ones loved her just as dearly as anyone else could have.
"You'll always be my sister," Mitsuko choked. She was silent for the rest of her visit.
She mourned, she cried, and most of all, she remembered.
