Work Text:
How do you mourn someone who didn't leave a body? Someone you have no tangible evidence of and just memories? Maomao would love to know.
She gathers things that remind her of Shisui. A grasshopper, a scrap of cloth the colour of her hair, a pebble oddly simular to her eyes. Then she place them into a box to bring behind her apothecary. Sweat forms on her brow as she digs a hole with ill suit tools, but before long she's made a hole a suitable deepth. She covers it with dirt.
"Goodbye, Shisui," she says with the last handful.