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Edo Phoenix awakes from gentle darkness to a world he had already said goodbye to. His nerves are burning, singed with the memory of Exodia, of a death that has now come twice over. His hand is shaking, alight with...something. Gathering his strength, he turns towards it, silver strands of hair parting his sight like cracks in a mirror.
Heavy in his palm, lies a locket.
-
When he rises, the sun does with him. Standing on his balcony, the wind brushes his cheeks with its echoed sigh.
He’s studied the locket endlessly. He knew what it was–whose it was–before it did anything more than pool in his hands. Somehow, it had made its way to him. Somehow, it had chosen him, just as destiny once had. The path before him was everclear.
The world does not wait, but Edo cannot find it in himself to care. He cancels interviews and meetings alike, instead charting a trip to a desert as his horrible phone rang without cease. The world does not wait, but he will make it wait. He has more important things to do. Tearing off his tie and heading to his closet, he does not acknowledge the other presence in the room.
"While I am no longer your manager, I do not think this is wise." Indigo eyes meet him where he paces.
"You won't stop me, Saiou."
"I wasn't planning to. Instead, I would like to join you–" their eyes hold, a dance, "If I may."
Something within Edo stirred at the request. He closes his eyes and with a tick of his eyebrow, he huffs out his reply. “Fine. Do as you wish.”
-
He does not question how Saiou made his way to him in the first place, as the last thing he knew the man was still under hospital care. Truthfully it did not matter. They had stood together through sun and storm–loss and win–airport gate and takeoff. Turbulence was nothing new in either of their lives; so much so that Saiou is painfully observant. The moment the silver haired duelist’s hands began to shake, he would still them within his own. They needn’t even exchange glances. His presence alone is grounding, if nothing else.
But to Edo, Saiou is much, much more than that.
Still, this was neither the time nor the place. The memory of Echo burns his throat like bile; her screams, her sadness, her sacrifice. Maybe the others could turn away from a damned love, but not him. She deserved to be laid to rest, and Edo would see her final wish realized if it was the last thing he did. Maybe that’s why she chose him in the first place.
As if sensing the tempest of his heart, Saiou’s hand once again squeezed his.
“We land in over six hours,” his voice rings like truth, “Save your strength.”
Exhausted, Edo nods and lets himself lean against Saiou. The man in question, his pillar, keeps watch of the passing skies.
-
He had found little to no information on Amon Garam on such short notice, but such odds hadn’t stopped him before. After eleven hours of flight, they land in Johannesburg. Actions and hands flash and the next thing Edo knows, he’s driving through the desert. At some point, they had changed their clothes to better suit the dry heat. Neither had paused to breathe, nor did they want to. Hadn’t she waited long enough?
Through the sea of grain, she guided him, a compass pointing to her northern star. Saiou’s long hand followed the sheen of the locket’s light, directing the pair to the beginning of a story. Hours pass before the ring of a note pierces the silence–they have finally arrived.
Before them stood the ruins of a house overrun with sand. It stood tall against the vast nothingness around it, casting a shadow that was small but real. Edo stared at it–what was this like, in another time? He tucks the necklace into his pocket as Saiou runs his palm over a wall. Tentatively, he draws back and like a flower, a parasol blooms in his hands, the wind ruffling it as he shields himself from the sun. “Let us go further.”
They walked through the erect remains, every footstep tightening Edo’s hold on the locket. It basically vibrated in his hand, beckoning them forward. There, at the back of the structure, sand gave way to a coarser soil.
“Here,” the duelist says. The man beside him nods, watching as Edo rolls up his sleeves and gets onto his knees.
Edo digs with his hands for he is nothing but a boy who feels too much, a boy who carries the burden of a heart too large. By the time the hole before him is large enough for a small child, his hands are raw and bleeding. This, he hopes, will have to do.
Carefully he unsheathes the locket, feeling its weight before gently placing it in the grave. Like clockwork, he covers the last remnant of Echo beneath the earth. When he finishes, he rises and steps back. There, Saiou and Edo stand wrapped in white. The man beside him is no bride, he himself is no groom, and there is no wedding. This is no celebration. Beneath the unflinching light of the sun, the pair hold a funeral, the parasol nostalgically cradled between them. As the long haired man bows his head and recites a prayer, the silver haired duelist bites back a sob.
The prayer starts with the pair standing and ends with them seated amongst the soil of the earth.
At the end of the rite, Saiou closes the distance between them and gently pulls the duelist’s battered hands into his lap. Like a magician, a first aid kit peeks behind his thigh. He does not warn of the sting as he runs disinfectant over the irritated skin, nor does he speak as he wraps them in salve and gauze. Even after his work is done, he does not let Edo go.
“Maybe I should not have come,” he says, turning towards the newly made grave.
Edo watches him, Saiou’s reflection held within an azure frame; his question needs not be said.
“I am glad,” tears fell from his eyes. “Selfishly, I am glad that it was them–and not you.”
Those words are all it takes for Edo to shatter, his crying more pronounced as he grits his teeth. They rise together, both of their faces streaked with sorrow. The sand does not part for them as they make their way back from whence they came. Saiou leads with their hands nestled together between them, interwoven fates once again meeting at the handle of a parasol.
-
The journey back is even more quiet than their arrival, the world silent as they move throughout the scenes–Saiou driving the hummer back, their departure from the airport, and the solitude of the night. As the black sky heightens his sense of isolation, Edo is unable to succumb to sleep.
Within the quiet cabin, the duelist was left with his thoughts and Saiou’s words. Had Saiou felt when he died in the other world? Was the man alone in his grief and anguish? Even during his rest, Edo’s bandaged hands were continuously held within the protective cradle of Saiou’s own. It was too cruel to ask, Edo decided, instead opting to wipe the stray tears that fell from his partner’s dreaming eyes.
Being by Saiou’s side, Edo knew he felt the same; he too, is selfish. He hoped that Echo would understand–and forgive them.