The lonely fox stood by the stone grave, violet eyes full of blank denial. The gray sky reflected silver with raindrops as he fell to his knees, the back of his hand covering his eyes, expression twisted into shame and remorse.
Why?
That was the only question flowing through Tomoe's mind; the only thing he could ask.
His Master.
The only thing he could do to see her smile was remember. The only thing he could do for her was take care of her shrine. The only thing he could do for her happiness. . . was hold in his own tears.
But the only thing he could do now was kneel down at her grave. Tears falling, rain soaking him from the inside out, white fox ears flattened against his head as his heart broke yet again.
He'd realized too late.
Now he would never be able to tell the human goddess what she had been working to hear. He would never be able to see that smile or feel the hug he would get from her at his words. He would never be able to wipe away the happy tears from her blushing cheeks, or dry the tears from her honey-brown gaze. He could never touch her again.
He would never be able to tell her. He fell in love with her just a little too late. Thought through it just a little too long. He foolishly disregarded time.
Time.
The wretched thing that damned him to the most sought after: A life of more than centuries.
A life of death, then, too.
That murderer of importance, the essence of the word 'no'. . .
The reason for 'too late'.
He pulled his hand away from his face, his breathing hitched with the effort of suppressed tears. His hands shook as he gently laid down the beautiful cluster of wildflowers, tied together with a coral colored ribbon. Every day, he did this. He would visit her, every day hoping it was a lie, hoping that this was only some trick that death was playing on him.
He laid beside the stone marking for an hour or more, just remembering, trapped by his own memories. He laid still as a statue, hoping to at least hear her voice. Maybe a whisper. The soft tinkle of her giggle.
Just enough to be assured he wasn't left alone.

Mizuki watched Tomoe slowly meander around the shrine, his sea-green eyes filled with sympathy. Tomoe hadn't even spoken one word since her death; all he could see in his expressive eyes was deep, blank regret. Like a knife had been stabbed into his heart and was left there, letting all his feelings leak out until he was merely a shell of a familiar.

Who'd lost his goddess.

The fox demon started to remember his Lady and Mistress once more, and he froze in his place, his mind trapped with more memories. He took steps, as if he were in his own world, seeing his surroundings differently, walking in reminiscence. Her laugh slowly faded from his mind, but her cheerful stare stayed, flooding his consciousness. He blinked, and there she was, standing there, grinning like the beautiful idiot she was. She gestured for him to follow her. He choked out her name, and did so.
Only when he reached her room did he realize she was merely a figment of his imagination. He doubled over, the pain in his heart spreading to his other limps, shaking him to the core with remorse.
He looked around her room, still left decorated, still holding memories of her creative touches. The hand-painted lamp-shade, the school notebook covers, the little, colorful origami flowers, they were all still there. His vacant orbs fell on the hairpin he'd given her before their 'date' to the amusement park. He swayed towards the small table it was resting on, and picked it up with long, slender fingers. He observed it and held it close to his steadily beating heart, closing his eyes and searching for the energy of his mistress.
He felt nothing.
Letting out a choked sob, he fell to his knees once more, hunching over and letting tears rack his body until he was all dried out.

Mizuki listened, his eyes softening as he watched Tomoe finally collapse under his inner pain. "Yes, Tomoe, let it all out. Don't hold in what you know you can't. . ." He murmured. A tear slid down his cheek as well, and he stepped away.

Tomoe shrank into himself on the cold, wooden floor, clutching the hairpin like a life line. His hair covered his eyes, but tear stains were visible on his pale skin.
I'll never let you go. . . .
Nanami.