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It was not long after the death of Kujou Sara that a grand funeral was held. It was meant to celebrate her, and her honor, and especially her work as the strong, loyal servant to the Raiden Shogun.
Sara had died during war. It was explained that the enemy had outnumbered her. Just using a bow against so many soldiers who also carried bows and swords was not enough. When she looked around for her own soldiers, all she could see were still bodies. She realized it too late. And she tried her best.
She was found later that day on the beach, while he was out causing a ruckus without a single clue.
He was notified minutes later.
Her casket was carried while music played along with the wind. Soldiers followed the ones who carried her towards her gravesite, but as he watched from atop a distant hill, he left before she could be set inside.
He was not invited to the funeral. Many believed he was too much, too loud. Believed he would ruin it. The most annoying oni at the Tengu Warriors' funeral? He believed that she would've wanted the peace anyway, even if she loved him. It was about her, not him. If he showed up, he most likely would've taken the attention from her burial. And he was not about to ruin it for her.
It was too much for him.
The woman he had doted on, bullied, and toyed with all because of some dumb rivalry that ended up leading to a not-so-secret romance, had passed.
Seeing the box she was now in and knowing he would never be able to see her again broke him. He cried, yelled, and punched trees until his knuckles bled. He cursed, how he so badly wanted to see her once more, to ask her dumb questions, to ask her to fight, to ask her to come with him to see random dates he set up for her.
He wanted to hear her complain again about how it was to remain a secret, and to tell her he didn't care. She was his, he was hers. But he would listen. He was happy.
And now, all was gone.
He spent the next couple weeks grieving alone at home. He refused to see anyone, his friends, his grandma. He didn't talk to anyone, no matter how hard they tried to reach him. He wanted to be left alone.
Regardless, everyone would bring him food, snacks, cards, a wide assortment of things he liked to try to cheer him up. Of course, death isn't easy to get over, and they knew this. They believed they could help with the grieving process.
But he turned everything down.
Occasionally, his grandma could hear him grunt and then a thud coming from his room. He was taking his anger and sadness out on the wall. She found this out after walking past his room and seeing a hole that was poorly covered up. He had tried to fix it. Along with many others. She suggested he try writing to avoid harming himself more, but he didn't have the patience. He ended up tearing paper up and throwing them around the room.
Eventually, she convinced him to go out with his friends to try and help himself.
His friends argued quietly amongst each other over what to do with him. To leave him be, or to try comforting him. He was too busy staring off into the sunset to notice. His eyes stung from how much he had cried the past couple of weeks, and his hands were bandaged up, courtesy of Shinobu. She, along with the others, were worried. And told him to take care of himself.
But knowing him, they knew he would shut himself away for some time. His friends tried to treat him by taking him for lunch on a tall hill that oversaw much of Inazuma, but all he did was stare. He barely touched his food. He barely spoke, unless to say a single word.
His friends attempted talking to him multiple times, but he wouldn't answer for the most part. They exchanged glances. They decided they would try something else another day, and let him rest today. They said their goodbyes, cleaned up, and left him on the hill with some snacks that surely he would eat.
But he didn't. He continued watching the sky, that was finally turning darker and darker with every minute as the sun went down. A flock of birds flew past him, he could hear them chirping, the ocean as it pressed against the beach below. He blinked, opened his mouth to breathe, and looked to the right.
There he saw a raven sat on a stump staring back at him. His breathing seemed to stop as it cocked its head to the side. It began flapping its wings and flew away. His breathing was shaky as he closed his eyes and comforted himself. When he opened his eyes, before him was a feather. One from the raven, a feather that had fallen from the sky.
He broke down. Like he had when he heard the news. He couldn't help himself and curled up as he cried out.
Thoughts filled his head.
He missed everything about her.
How she refused every challenge for so long.
He missed how she said his name.
How she aimed her bow with confidence.
How she gave him affection, and words of affirmation.
He would never hear her words again, or watch her do what she did best.
He never got the chance to protect her, and he would never get to see her again.
He struggled with her death for a month longer. He continously made the trip up to the same hill, sat, and watched the sun go down. He would see the same raven on that stump that watched him for a moment before taking off. He would stay for hours until the crack of dawn. Sometimes he would fall asleep there.
But that day was different. He was hurting so much without her, and he was upset with himself.
He held on to the same feather, and would take it up to the hill with him. He would hold it between his fingers and look at it with swollen eyes. He twirled it in his fingers before looking up at the new sunset.
Shades of orange, flower pink, and bright yellow filled the sky. It was so peaceful. It reminded him of her cheeks after he gave her affection in public. It made him think of her, how calm she remained under pressure. Perhaps she had done the same up until her death.
Perhaps that is how she remained while he was busy playing pranks and messing around.
Perhaps she knew.
She knew she was helpless in that moment. And he was not there for her.
He pictured her bleeding out, lying still while looking into the sunset colored sky. Holding on for as long as she could, breathing heavily but slowly, and hearing the ocean beside her until she couldn't while awaiting her slow, painful death. Alone.
It was too much.
Too much to think of.
Too much to blame himself for.
He was over it. It hurt so much. His heart was in pain, his head aching.
He began to cry again, and stood up and walked to the edge of the cliff. He held on to the feather tightly. He took a breath, wiped his eyes.
And just like the feather that fell from the sky, he believed he, too, could fly.