095 | the fun in funeral

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over and over, i keep going
over the world we knew

over and over, i keep goingover the world we knew

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MAY TWENTY FIFTH,
TWO THOUSAND AND EIGHTEEN

16:34 in the afternoon

FUNERALS. WHAT A SOLEMN act they were: Laying rest to the dead, their ashes scattered among the stars. In a few weeks, their bodies would become dust and drift down into the earth. Sora stood in front of two gravestones, his wife's and his daughter's. They had been buried side by side, one next to the other, in his family's plot in Tokyo.

Sora knew she would have preferred that. She was never close with her family; disliked them, in fact. But that didn't stop her from thinking about them sometimes, about how she would never see them again (her parents died years ago). Now, it was her new reality. She was going to meet them once more.

Her death was permanent. The future, so bright when he was younger, so distant before he met her, felt dark at that moment.

He wanted to cry.

"We should've run away together," he whispered, following the curve of her name on the barren grey stone. He was standing alone, dressed in all black. His mother had insisted upon making sure he was presentable for funerals. He didn't understand why. It made little difference who was there. "Away from this world. Away from Fate."

He heard footsteps behind him, and Sora wished he could turn around and find her standing there. He knew that would not be possible, so he kept his head straight.

"You're very brave for doing this," his mother told him, stepping beside him.

"I have no other choice."

And that was true. He couldn't turn back the time. Or make it better. Maybe if she had stayed with him, things would have turned out differently. Maybe if the universe were not out to get him, she would be in his arms, at home, watching their twins. But she wasn't.

And looking at the two gravestones in front of him, it just felt all the more real.

Sora wondered how many souls Fate had already taken. How many lives Fate had ended before they even started. He wished he knew who he was to deserve being part of this world; who he was, after leaving this one behind. Who he'd become. If anything, Sora thought with bitterness, he was doomed from the start. He, who had denied Fate the first time, the second, and she, who refused a third time. There was something tragic to be said about challenging the metaphysical; they always, always, come up victorious.

Fate won, whether he wanted it to or not. And there really was nothing left to do but accept it, as a good servant does, and move on.

The tears started to rise. His mother left him, giving him his space, and Sora couldn't be more thankful. He was left alone to his thoughts and his rising emotions.

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