Sometimes, when she laid in her bed and stared up into the low ceiling of the Mankanshoku household, into that deep, enticing, never-ending blackness, when she couldn't sleep, she thought she could hear him. She could perceive his voice clearly, as if he was right beside her, telling her good-night... to go to sleep, that he was there for her and would always be, that she needn't worry.

Sometimes, when he murmured to her like that, so mysterious and close, she could lull herself to sleep with the fake illusion that he was still there. She could pretend she had what she wanted. And it worked, most of the time.

Sometimes, she started talking to herself, thinking he was listening. She would say she missed him so much, pour out her thoughts, and receive a response of silence. The absolute quiet hurt her deeply. Was he ignoring her? Did he regret sacrificing himself for her good?

Sometimes, the girl thought she was going crazy. She was sitting there, holding a scarf, whispering to it and holding it close. She was yearning for the red cloth to turn into something else. She wanted to see him again, no matter what.

Sometimes, when she still couldn't sleep, she walked aimlessly. She trod around what area the house —if it could be called a house— took up, looking through windows and up at the stars. She saw the moon and the sun and imagined looking planet Earth as it was, not clouded by that horrible red fiber. But most of all, it made her remember what happened to him. But she looked anyway, because he was up there. He had to be.

Sometimes, when the house wasn't enough for her, she wandered away from it and into the ruins of what used to be the lair of a scientist. She went into the old basement where they first met, and there she relished the emptiness. She would trek in circles and often notice a light crimson stain on the floor, making her recall with a pang how it had awakened him.

Sometimes, she felt hurt and alone. He had only been the only one who really understood her; everyone else had moved on. They'd found careers and, in one case, love. Her sister and best friend didn't know about the impact of his leaving, because she simply plastered a fake smile on her face whenever she was around them. And they fell for it.

Sometimes, she wondered what exactly their relationship was. Human and clothing, both and neither; saying the that they were "soul mates" barely touched the surface, let alone dig deep. They were one, they were the same, and even that didn't help any living creature understand. Even she didn't know the exact extent to which their bond reached. All she knew that it was so strong, so utterly incomprehensible.

Sometimes, she was in a near-death experience. Whether it be car crash or crazy assassin, she'd been through them all. Every time she felt the physical pain, he was there to take the blow. He took it all for her. He was her forever shield, despite the fact that she didn't need one. She had the life fibers in her body, and that in itself protected her.

Sometimes, when she woke up, she heard herself screaming. Shrieking, yelling, shouting, screeching, and it was a single word. It was his name, it was what she had named him. Fresh blood. Her hand reached out into thin air, grasping desperately for the rough fabric she could never feel, for the warm sailor uniform that would never be there.

Sometimes, she thought it was all a lie, that her mind was cruelly tricking her into seeing the image that he was still there and not gone. Because she had seen him that day, seen him burn up to protect her and wither into a few charred strands that blew away in the wind. They would never meet again.

Sometimes, she thought it was real. He was still there. He wouldn't hate her for not being able to protect him, would he? He wouldn't be so willing to cause her pain. The him she knew would be with her for every heartbeat of her life for as long as she could.

Sometimes, she just sat there. She sat down, crossed her legs, and thought. She recollected every experience she'd had since the rebellious teenager had first set foot into that academy. It was one amazing ride, that was for sure.

Sometimes, she wondered why she just couldn't get him out of her head. He danced across her consciousness and took her breath away. Her mind was cluttered with thoughts of him, with the feel of coarse cloth and the smell of blood.

Sometimes, she wondered what this feeling was. It pained her and suffocated her like a python. What she felt for him was different from anything she felt for anyone else; it was the reason why her heart sped up whenever she saw him in dreams, why she wondered how he felt about her so much. The emotion stubbornly persisted though she tried to push it away. It wanted her to call it by name. It wanted her to accept that she loved him more than anything. It made her want to hold him close in her arms and never let go.

Sometimes, nothing could fill up the space after he left. There were no more tears or laughter, no more nitpicking, no more him. Every time they were away when he had still been there, it felt like a half of her had been torn away. Now that he was all the way gone, only her empty shell remained. He had filled her days with happiness despite the events that were going on when they met, and now that happiness was gone.

Sometimes, she mulled over some of his last words: I'm glad I met you. It was fun. How he had summed up everything in eight simple words that weren't at all long or exquisite. Only one had been four letters long, and the rest were even shorter. And yet so much meaning laid behind the two short sentences.

And every time when she though back to those words, she felt a bittersweet tear or two gently trickle down her cheek, and she swore that it was his sleeve that wiped him away and caressed her face. Then she would smile; a true honest-to-goods, genuine smile at the clear blue sky. She directed it into space, to wherever he was now. She accepted that he could not become her wound anymore, that though she still remembered him and cared for him with all her heart, she should live her life how she wanted to live it. He would be there by her side the whole way through the years, she was sure of it. And then she would whisper a reply into the wind so it could snatch her words away and deliver them to him:

"Yeah. It was fun... Senketsu."