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How long had it been?
The rain wouldn't stop falling. It sunk into the ground and turned the dirt into mud, making his clothes stick to his skin in a way that would normally have been uncomfortable. This time, though, it let the blood and dirt on him wash away. He wouldn't have to look at it later.
How long had it been? He didn't remember. He didn't remember.
The hand he was holding had grown cold, now. Idly, he remembered there hadn't been any warmth in the first place, but there seemed to be a difference from when he had held it before and when he held it now. It was cold, and the rain made it no better. Artificial skin was slick from mud and water and blood. There was no tenderness, no warmth. The person it belonged to was gone, and so was the life they brought with them. The light, the energy, the love. It was gone, and as much as it hadn't really been there in the first place, it was noticeable. It was noticeable.
The hand was cold, now. It was still. Pale fingers dyed red. There was dirt caked under the nails, and chips in the paint on their arm. Their sleeve was torn at the edges, falling apart at the seem. The hand was cold. It was still, with pale fingers dyed red. But he couldn't bring himself to let go.
How long had it been? How much had he sacrificed, how much had he lost? It's been so long... he ached for it all to stop, for it all to end. So much loss, so much pain and hurt and aching, aching hearts that none of them truly had. So many moments lost to him, so many opportunities burned by his own hands. He wondered when the world would simply stop turning, when his job would be over, when the day would arrive. He gripped their hand tighter.
Riku could barely see through his bangs. The rain soaked him through and through, clear water turning red as it ran through his hair. Distantly, he realized he was shivering, and he wondered how long he had been sitting there. Long enough to feel the water in his circuits, certainly. And long enough for his eyes to dry. He had stopped crying long ago. Though, he had yet to let go of the hand he held. Riku didn't know if he could.
"Pod 153 to 2R. 4S's time of elimination was approximately 11 minutes and 27 seconds ago. You have yet to complete your mission and terminate his personal data." Riku's Pod spoke, but its voice was but noise on the wind to him. He didn't budge. Not a single movement, not a single breath. Riku was as still as he had been seconds before.
What was he to say? What was he to do? Over and over again, his job had been carried out. Over and over again, his blade had been cut and torn and dyed a deep, deep red. Over and over again, he had not uttered a single complaint, not a single word. Riku knew he didn't deserve this moment. He knew he didn't deserve this quiet, this grief. He didn't deserve the chance he had taken to mourn, but that didn't matter much to him anymore. There was no longer any part of him that could even pretend to care.
Riku wanted this moment. He wanted to mourn, he wanted to remember. He wanted to hold his best friend's hand until his joints could no longer move. He wanted to grieve in a place where nobody could see, where nobody would tell him to get up and move on. There were few chances he got to otherwise.
The sky was starting to get dark. Soon, Riku wouldn't even be able to see Sora's face. Perhaps that was a blessing.
It had been peaceful, this time. As peaceful as it could be, anyway. If Riku shut his eyes tight, he could still see Sora's smile, and hear the calmness in his voice as he said "it's okay."
"It's okay," he had said. His voice was rough, ending with a stuttering breath. Riku remembered how his eyes had crinkled around the edges, like it always did when he was trying to be brave. "I'm not mad. I'm not mad."
Sora had smiled at him, then. It had been full of love, as it always was. Full of warmth. But it's usual life was lost, and Riku could see an aching, all consuming sadness. It was no doubt about his sudden realization, the sudden betrayal. Everything he had known had been wiped away in an instant— everything he had ever been told, everything he had ever believed in. It was all lies. It was all fabricated. And to top it all off, he had the realization that he was created to die. He was created to die, and his best friend had been created to kill him. Over and over, their cycle would continue, until there was nothing left.
Riku didn't know when he had started crying. He didn't remember if it had been before or after he struck his best friend down, or if it was when he had noticed Sora was crying, too. He didn't remember if it was when Sora had started saying goodbye, or if it was when the lights in his eyes had finally dimmed and he had left Riku alone.
He couldn't remember. He could never remember. It was always like this. It always ended like this.
"Question: Requesting the current status of 2R. Unit 4S's actions of obtaining sensitive data within the Bunker has been predicted and proven to be expected." Pod 153 said. "Why, then, has 2R failed to complete his mission despite everything occurring within the predetermined conditions?"
There was no reply. Riku only kept his eyes on the ground, as he had been for what felt like an eternity. There would be time to go through with his duty later. For now, he just wanted a moment.
His duty. Riku almost scoffed.
"This... is your job. Your duty." Sora had said, hands held as tightly as they could around the one Riku held against the hole in his chest. He could feel them shake, Sora's grip so weak it slipped every other second. "We YoRHa units... are made to be destroyed. It's a horrible.... horrible life. Even so, I..."
It was hard to forget the way his hands had shook.
The rain was beginning to lighten up. Hints of light peaked through the clouds, casting the field into white mist.
Sora had looked up at him, then. He almost wished Sora had kept his mask on, maybe then the sorrow in his eyes and the tears falling down his face could be ignored. They couldn't, though. They couldn't.
"I was so glad... to fight by your side. It was an honor."
Riku's mask had been taken off a while ago. It was cast to the side, letting Sora see his eyes well up with tears, gaze unmoving from where their hands met. That's where he would stay for long after Sora's last heartbeat.
The field was still. As still as Riku had been, in fact. Nothing seemed to change, and yet this was not the same moment it had been minutes ago. Riku shifted, and looked up.
The rain had stopped. He could see the sun, too. His shoulders sagged, the weight moving on to settle over his heart, over his lungs. It hurt to breathe. Riku looked away.
He didn't want to leave just yet. There was so much he wanted to say, even if he was just speaking to an empty husk. That had never stopped him before. But what could he possibly say? What words could possibly matter? If there were any at all, Riku had probably said them all before. In the multitudes of times he's been forced into this situation, over and over again, he's had to have said them before.
What words could possibly matter? 'I'm sorry'? No. This was his duty. He shouldn't apologize.
'I didn't want this to happen'? It was the truth. He didn't. But that didn't change what did happen.
'This wasn't my choice-' no. No. It was. It was his blade, his hand. Maybe they hadn't been his orders, but it was Riku who went through with them. It was his choice. His actions.
The sun was blinding. The clouds had moved away as though they were never there in the first place. There were birds in the distance, he could hear, singing. The breeze was gentle. If Riku closed his eyes, if he willed himself to forget, he could almost call it all serene. Peaceful.
He looked at Sora fully for the first time since he had been struck down. For all it was worth, he really did look at peace. In this world's own cruel and twisted way.
It was quiet. He had to say something. What was he supposed to say? He didn't know. Riku was always so bad at this part. It could take him another year to figure out the right things to say.
He didn't want to apologize, he didn't want to ask for forgiveness. The guilt weighed as it should. Nothing would fix his sins, nothing could redeem him. The guilt weighed as it should, and there was nothing he could do to change that. Even if he could, Riku wasn't sure he deserved it. Not after what he'd done. Not after how many times he repeated that same, cruel act.
"Sora," he started. His voice was hoarse, quiet. What he was going to say was for Sora and Sora alone. "I'm sorry it had to end like this."
Riku thought to something Sora had said earlier, while clutching the wound in his chest and still staring up at him like he had put the stars in the sky.
"I know... I know you didn't want to forget. But I'll... I'll remember it for you. I'll remember it all for you, and... and maybe I'll be able to tell you about it one day."
With a gentle hand, Riku brushed the hair from Sora's face. He let himself have a moment, putting every detail into memory. Every scratch, every dent, every tear and every stain. Riku let himself have this moment, wishing it were possible to feel warmth underneath his fingers, or for Sora's eyes to open once more.
It didn't matter, he tried to tell himself. He would see them again tomorrow.
Riku let his hand drift from Sora's head to his cheek, holding it with a care he wouldn't admit he ever had. He brushed a thumb along his face, wiping away some of the dirt and the blood. It never occurred to him as to why, and he never asked. Maybe he never would.
With that single touch, all of Sora's personal data had been erased. Every memory, every feeling. Every moment he had lived, everything he wished for. Everything was erased, as if it had never existed in the first place. It was just as Riku had been tasked with doing. The android that lay in front of him was now an empty slate— a corpse in every way.
It was somewhat human, Riku thought, for it to end this way. With his eyes staring up at the sky, laying lost and broken in the muddy field of a city that had been long forgotten. No machine ever got the same treatment. It was doubtful they ever would.
"Mission complete. Proposal: Head back to the Bunker and reconvene with the commander." Pod 153 said. Its voice was empty. Monotone. Riku bit his cheek.
That's how you're supposed to be, he reminded himself. Cold. Empty. Emotions are prohibited— you aren't supposed to feel.
Why, then, did it hurt so much?
You know why.
With a shaking breath, Riku stood. One hand gripped his sword tightly, willing it to ground him. His pod shifted, likely assuming Riku would finally be making his way back to the base. But not yet, not just yet. He took one final moment, just as he always did.
Sora lay as still as he had been when the rain had stopped falling. His eyes were close, and the weak smile on his face never seemed to have washed away. The rain had driven away most of the blood and grime, leaving any passerby's the ability to assume he was simply sleeping. It might have been poetic, in another world. In another time.
"Next time... you see me..."
The sun was brighter then than it had been the entire day, and the rains had stopped. But Sora wasn't there to see it.
It almost made him angry. He didn't know if he had that in him. There was too much grief, too much guilt, too much sorrow. It all ached, tearing him apart bit by bit, leaving him empty, leaving him feeling nothing. Riku wanted to be angry— he did. He wanted to be angry for the sky Sora couldn't see, for the flowers he couldn't pick, for the moments that would constantly be taken away from him, over and over again. But he wasn't. He couldn't. Not this time. Not this time.
Riku turned, shoving down a wince as his joints ached. He had sat in the same spot for far too long. The rain didn't help, likely. Not that it mattered. Riku would have done it again and again, no matter the outcome, no matter the fight. Sora deserved that much, at least. Someone to mourn him.
"I want you... to kill me. Promise me. Please."
This was the time to say something. A goodbye, of sorts, before he took his leave. This time, though, Riku didn't know what to say. He thought he would have it down by now, the whole... grieving thing. Saying goodbye should be easy, second nature, with how many times he's had to do it. It seems that he was wrong. Funny, how it never gets easier. And still, he has to continue.
Another breath. He could hear birds in the distance.
"Until next time, Sora," Riku said. Barely a whisper on his ears.
He would leave Sora staring up at the sky he always loved. He would leave him laying in the field of the city he loved to explore, love to see. He would leave him in the world he loved to study, and alone. Alone, as he always hated. As Riku always did.
How awful of him.
Riku finally took a step forward, and then another. There would be a new 4S by tomorrow. A new duty to fulfill, and another partner to inevitably fall in love with. A new strategy, a new way to distance himself as far as possible without being as cold as he knew he could be. Another day he would have to pretend to meet 4S for the first time, as though he hadn't seen those eyes dim and die a dozen times before. The circle would continue, and Riku would pretend as though he didn't feel a thing.
Another tally mark to go along with the rest. Another number to go with the dozen others. 27, he reminded himself. 27 times had he met 4S, and 27 times had he struck him down. 868 days since their mission had been given to them, and another would pass. The circle would continue, and 2R would pretend as though it didn't bother him at all.
"Pod, contact the commander. Tell her... tell her my duty has been played out. Send the coordinates." Riku said.
"Affirmative."
The night would come. Riku would go back to the Bunker, and he would get himself patched up. He would sit in his room and clean his blade, waiting for his body to force itself into a dreamless sleep. When the morning comes, he will wake, and he will do his best to keep his hands from shaking when he's to meet YoRHa unit No.4 Type S for the twenty-eighth first time.
Day 869 would dawn, and the countdown to when 2R is to kill 4S again would begin. He knew it wouldn't get any easier. Still, he took another step forward. Still, he continued.