The sun was bleeding amber beams of light across the solemn, dead earth. Brown-green grass painted the land around her grave the color of a hellish pastel nightmare. Wind spat leaves of scarlet and gold at the silver slab that marked where her coffin was buried. There was still a circular rectangle of dirt where they had dug the hole. The hole. The goddamned hole.

There were tears in my eyes, I think. Not many. I almost ran out of them the day before, when I got the news. I was in my room when I heard.

"Kyon?"

"I'm doing homework. Leave me alone."

"Phone for you."

"Who is it? I'm busy."

"It's Suzumiya. She sounds real sad. She says that Nagato's gone."

I dropped my pen. "She's what?"

Before my little sister could reply, I snatched the phone away from her small hands and answered. Haruhi was a sobbing mess. Dead. Yuki. She's dead. Dead, Kyon.

I lost it. Threw the phone at the wall. Almost broke it. Screamed. Shut the hell up. She's not dead. Shut up. She can't die.

She was the Data-Mind thing, right? She couldn't die. I watched her kill those monsters all that time ago. Badass. Can't die. Can't die.

The hole in the ground, Kyon. Explain the goddamned hole in the ground, smartass. If she can't die, pinch yourself and wake the hell up. If she can't die, why isn't she here? If she can't die, why are you crying?

I was on my knees. Bowing down next to her plot of soil. I made a weak attempt at folding my hands together. Praying. Asking why it happened. Asking for her back. Asking for an answer. Never got one.

Probably because Haruhi's God, dumbass. Go pray to her. Oh, sorry, Her. Have to be proper when talking about that sort of thing.

The wind was cold on my face. My nose was frozen by the time the sun vanished behind her engraved rock. Stars stabbed through the indigo blanket of the night like flakes of snow. Snow.

Snow. Snow-white. Skin. Cold. Yuki.

Get you back, even if I have to recreate the world from scratch. Tell that to your boss.

I will tell them.

Then she died. Because of you. What you said. They killed her with the knife you created. The blood is on your hands. Killer. Murderer. Failure.

Shut up. Shut up. Shut up.

You killed her.

The stone was in my grasp. I was clawing at it, chipping away my fingernails. Crimson flowers blooming from my fingertips. Ice numbing the pain.

Here lies Yuki Nagato.

Murderer.

Be quiet.

A good friend...

Dead because of you.

Stop it.

... a book-lover...

Look what you did.

Silence.

... and quiet enigma. May she rest in peace.

There is no peace for her. She had no soul.

Stop, please, stop.

She's in hell now.

"Shut the hell up!"

I was in class. Panting, out of breath. My scarf was still on; I hadn't taken it off after I came in. God, it was hot in there. Everyone was staring. Look at the freak. The one who hangs out with Haruhi. The one who cried at the bookworm's funeral.

"Is... everything alright, Kyon?"

I was still out of breath. Couldn't talk. They were still watching. What's the psycho going to say next? Tell the teacher to go to hell. Wouldn't that be something? I'm going tell all of my friends about this at lunch...

"Everything's fine," I said, sitting down like nothing happened. Because nothing did happen. Nothing happened.

"Do you need to see the nurse?"

False sympathy. Shut up or get out of my class. I don't give a damn that you're friend is six feet beneath the surface of the earth. I don't care whether her soul is in heaven or hell or if she even had a soul. I just want you to be quiet.

"Everything," I told him firmly, with spaces in-between each word so he could understand, "is fine."

He shrugged after a few seconds.

I slouched back into my seat. Looked out the window. Watched the wayward leaves wander through the sky. Like they were searching for something.

A killer. They were after me. They knew what I'd done. They were on my trail. They just didn't know where. Not yet.

A reason. To live. To go on. To exist. There was none. But leaves don't know that. Don't know that there's no point to life anymore.

An angel. Six feet under. Purple hair. Pale skin. Black dress. If they hurried, they would find her before the demons did. The demons that eat away dead flesh and throw it back up in hell. Hurry, leaves. Hurry and find her.

Ringing in my ears. The bell. School-bell. I was going to be late. Didn't care. Just left. Hid in the clubroom.

Maybe she'd be there, I thought. Maybe she's there, sitting in her chair, reading God-knows-what. Maybe she's alive. Maybe I can see her again. Hear her voice. See her face. Feel her hands. Cold but alive.