A/N: Send some love Bragi151's way via PM. In other news, I whined and you all delivered. Thanks for letting me know you're reading by alerting this story. Finally, it may seem like these chapters are getting progressively shorter, but that'll stop soon.
Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to Laura Marling's "Alas, I Cannot Swim", her song "Old Stone" from said album, nor Eyeshield 21. I do not profit from this story.
"Ten thousand years, and you're still on your own."
Juumonji shook his head vigorously, like a dog with a wet coat, shaking off the words.
"You know you'll never finish." Voices echoed. "He probably doesn't even want to come back."
"You'll never finish, you'll be alone forever."
Juumonji walked through a desert, crossing over dunes and scorching suns and verbal torments, still looking for Sena.
"He's dead. He doesn't want to come back. He's already moved on, you should too."
Abruptly, Juumonji was standing, drenched, on the wet and foggy cobblestone streets of Jack-the-Ripper era England. The rain was no relief to his thirst.
The sight of Sena jogging before him, though, was.
"Sena!" He called out for the first time, chasing after the figure. "Sena, come back!"
He ran, and he ran, and he ran.
"Sena! Come back!" He screamed, cried, called out. "SENA!"
"Sena, please." He sobbed as he awoke.
"Sena." He whispered as he dragged himself out of bed and stumbled though the dark, pausing only long enough to click a lamp on in the living room, and to pick up a loop of wire attached to a wooden handle, to begin carving out the unruly locks that he had run his fingers through so many times, before they were burned in the funeral pyre.