"NOOOOOO!"

Izuki watched Nira's ribbon float gently down to the ground. Her expression was of mute horror, slowly morphing into a grim, uncontrolled rage. Her fists clenched and she growled, her voice building into a roar as she slammed her fists into the branches. Eventually her fury stilled as her fists slowly came to rest against the impenetrable wall of vines and branches at the opening of the hallway. Tears flowed down her cheeks but she made no sound. As she sank to her knees, all that anger made her fists slowly burst into flame, while she gave the wall a death stare. But not even Charon could burn it down. She couldn't.

"Fucking shit."

Akito voiced his concern. They did need to keep moving. Otherwise everything they'd done would be for naught and they'd all die. Alone. Forgotten.

Izuki stood and squared her shoulders. She wiped her tears with her hands and searched for Charon. In the darkness of the new hallway, they needed his light. She found him curled up near the wall, nearly dim, his bright hot tears sizzling softly on the tiles. So very gently, she scooped him up into his palms.

"Hey. Little guy. Charon. We've gotta get moving, otherwise we won't save who we came for."

That said, she placed him gently on her shoulder and strode forward, past the others.

"And you guys? Suck it up. We fought to get here and we'll keep fighting until sir Bitchtits is safe and sound, alright? We can cry later."

Taro’s lips quivered but he could form no sounds as Nira’s ribbon drifted down to the floor. He could feel his stomach plunge and tighten as he looked at the others, mouth still agape. She had been the first one that he had met, and they had forgotten her—he had forgotten her. He clasped his hands against his temples. Taro had saved a fucking guitar over saving a goddamn girl. He turned and kicked his foot into the overturn cabinet that Nao had been helping him push in an attempt that had been completely fruitless, all things considered. Kicking it didn’t help him feel any better, although it did cause a shocking pain to ring through his foot.

Sinking down unto the cabinet with his spear resting against his shoulder, Taro locked his fingers behind his head and rested his elbows on his knees. He felt ill; he felt like giving up. None of them knew what they were doing here, really, they’d just answered some call from a little blue dude like a pack of idiots. He exhaled deeply, trying his damnedest not to start sobbing. Akito tried to move the others to get going in a weak rallying attempt, saying that if they waited the other guy would die like N—Taro choked. Izuki motivated them in her typical way, but Taro didn’t particularly feel like sucking it up. No, sucking it up meant that he accepted what had happened and was going to force himself to put on a brave face. He couldn’t do that.

He could lie however.

“Guys, seriously?” he said, reaching down and grabbing Nira’s ribbon. “We didn’t see...we don’t know that…” Taro paused, looked at the ground, took in a deep breath, and forced a confident smile on his face. “Nira isn’t dead; she just got seperated from us. For all we know, she’s over there on the other side thinking the same thing about us. It’s, uh, it’s…” he trailed off, momentarily losing his resolve. “She’s tougher than she looks. Certainly better at summoning our helpers than I am. Hell, for all I know she probably found a shortcut and is already saving Bitchtits without us. So, uh, let’s go join her.”

Of course, he meant join her as in saving Bitchtits, not in whatever horrible thing actually did happen to her. He doubted the others would believe him, but Taro had to say it even if it only gave him a little bit of hope. Tying the ribbon around his spear and tightening the shoulder strap on the guitar, Taro began to follow after Izuki only for his brow to wrinkle as a thought crossed his mind. Pausing, he glanced back at the others and did a quick head count.

“You know, maybe we should implement a buddy system or something?” A sharp, bitter laugh escaped his throat. “Like, I’m just saying, we wouldn’t even have had that fright if somebody had been watching out for, erm, what I’m saying is...um, nevermind,” he muttered, falling behind Izuki. “Fucking hate hospitals.”

Nira Seritoka was dead. The words hammered themselves into her mind. A youth whose light had been suddenly snuffed out. Despairing brown orbs gazed upon the falling, crimson ribbon. Bright red, energetic ... the very shade of their blood. She couldn't tear her eyes away from the object. It seemed so harmless ... so nondescript ... it was cruel. Cruelly taunting them with every gentle motion. The simple, lone reminder that one of their own had fallen prey to the enemy. Gone without a trace, leaving no body behind. Just the ribbon, nothing more.

Nira Seritoka was dead.

Four words. Four little words that had utterly engulfed her consciousness. Nao couldn't hear the others through the rush of blood to her head, through the rapid beating of her heart. One of them had died. Died. She had vowed to protect them all, and one of them had died. She had utterly failed in that regards. Failed to fulfil her duty. Failed to save somebody. Failed to save Nira Seritoka.

She sucked in a breath.

One of them was dead.

Any of the others could die.

She could die.



She was scared. She had failed. She was frightened.

Her attempts at following her oath to protect the others had failed to borne fruit. She was no heroic figure. She was no defender.

Ha.

Haha.

Her fists clenched tightly.

Haha.

Ha ...

"That would be logical," said Nao, voice a tight monotone.

Mechanical, even.

"Greater caution in pursuit of that man will prevent us from further harm," she continued, an artificial professionalism falling over her. Yet it was quite obvious to all that there was a dullness to each and every word that was leaving her mouth.

She wasn't crying.

She couldn't cry.

She would shut them down.

Shut it all down.