The sun hung low in the sky, casting a golden glow over the peaceful graveyard where the wind whispered softly through the trees. The air smelled of fresh earth, and the faint scent of wildflowers lingered, but none of it seemed to reach Zack. His mind was elsewhere, lost in the heavy weight of his thoughts. He stood before the simple tombstone, his gaze fixed on the engraved names.
Zack's Parents.
The name etched into the stone was all that remained of them. No matter how many times he visited, no matter how many times he tried to speak to them in his mind, it was always the same: nothing. Just the cold stone, the dead earth beneath his feet, and the endless, aching void where his family had once been.
Zack had been here countless times before. It was always the same. His parents were dead. They had been dead in every life he had lived, and no matter how many times he tried to change the course of events, the outcome never varied. No matter how many lifetimes, how many attempts, their deaths remained constant. Their smiles, their laughter, their warmth—everything that made them his parents—was gone. Taken by the hands of fate, and no matter what he did, nothing ever brought them back.
And yet, even after all the pain and frustration, all the hopelessness, he still stood here. He still came. He still tried.
Zack reached into the small satchel slung across his shoulder and pulled out a bouquet of flowers. The vibrant colors of the petals seemed almost out of place in the cold and lonely atmosphere of the graveyard. Yet, there they were—delicate and full of life, a stark contrast to the eternal stillness around him. He placed them gently at the base of the tombstone, his fingers lingering for a moment longer than necessary. A small, almost imperceptible tremor passed through him as he stood there, staring at the stone.
"Why…" he whispered to no one in particular, though his voice seemed to echo in the stillness. He closed his eyes, his chest tightening, but the words were still there. The question he had asked a thousand times before. Why could I never save them?
A rustling sound behind him broke his quiet reverie. He didn't need to turn to know who it was. He had sensed her approach before the sound reached his ears. Yurina.
He had told her not to come, to stay behind at the academy. He wasn't sure why, but he had felt the need to go alone this time. Maybe he didn't want anyone to see the cracks in his armor, or maybe it was the old, familiar feeling that came with trying to face his failures alone. But Yurina had insisted on following him, and no matter how many times he told her to stay away, she had refused.
Zack could feel the weight of her presence behind him now, standing just at the edge of his peripheral vision. She hadn't said anything—she never did. She knew this was something he needed to do alone. But even in silence, her support was felt. And somehow, that made it worse.
"I didn't expect you to come," Zack said, his voice low, a hint of something he couldn't quite identify in his tone. The words were calm, matter-of-fact, but there was an undercurrent of weariness running through them. He had seen her standing there for a while now, and even though she wasn't saying anything, he knew her well enough to know that she was waiting. Waiting for him to say something. To acknowledge her presence. To tell her what she had already come here to witness.
"I know," Yurina's voice was soft, hesitant. She took a step closer but stopped a few paces away from him. The sunlight reflected off her blue and white uniform, but even with the warmth of the day, her demeanor was solemn. She had known this wasn't going to be easy. But she had come anyway, because she knew how much it meant to Zack.
Zack felt her gaze on his back, but he didn't turn. He didn't want to see her face, not right now. Not when his heart was so full of conflicting emotions. He had long since given up trying to fight them. The bitterness. The guilt. The loneliness.
"I don't know why I keep coming back here," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. He took a step back, his gaze still fixed on the tombstone. He knew the answer. He had always known. But it was easier to pretend it wasn't true, to pretend that somehow this time would be different. But the truth was always there, staring him in the face.
"Because… you still hope," Yurina said quietly, as though she had read his thoughts. Zack flinched, but Yurina didn't stop. "Even after everything, you still hope that you can change things. That you can save them. You don't give up, Zack. You can't."
Zack's hand clenched around the hilt of his spear, but he didn't respond. Her words echoed in his mind, but they didn't reach the part of him that still clung to some sliver of hope. He had tried. He had tried so many times before, only to watch them die again, and again, and again. What good was hope when everything was destined to fail?
Yurina stepped closer, her presence gentle but firm. She placed a hand on his shoulder, offering silent support. She could feel the weight of his pain, but she also knew the depth of his resilience. He might have given up on saving them, but she wasn't about to let him give up on himself.
"I'm sorry," Zack said, his voice rough as he looked down at the ground. The words seemed empty, hollow, as if they were a poor attempt to explain what was happening inside him. But Yurina didn't need any more words. She had already heard the unspoken ones.
"It's not your fault," she said softly, her voice steady. "You've already done everything you could."
Zack's eyes flickered toward her, and for a moment, there was a flicker of something in his gaze—something almost human. But it was fleeting, like the shadow of a dream fading in the morning light.
"I tried," he whispered, almost to himself. He wasn't sure if he was speaking to her, to himself, or to the universe that had trapped him in this endless loop of failure. "I've tried everything. I've died. I've killed myself in every way imaginable. And nothing changes."
Yurina was quiet for a moment, taking in his words. The silence stretched on, but she didn't let go of his shoulder. She could feel the pain radiating from him, the helplessness, the exhaustion that came from knowing that no matter what he did, no matter how many times he tried to alter the course of fate, he was powerless to change the past.
"I know it's hard," she said finally, her voice steady but full of compassion. "But you're not alone. You're not alone, Zack."
Zack's lips curved into a faint, hollow smile. The smile wasn't directed at her, but at the world around them—at the world that had robbed him of everything. It was a smile of resignation, a smile of someone who had seen too much, suffered too much, and yet, continued to endure.
"Don't worry about me," he said, his tone distant, almost emotionless. "I'm fine."
But Yurina wasn't convinced. She could feel the walls he had built up, the distance he kept between them. She could feel the pain in every word he spoke, and she knew that no matter how many times he tried to push her away, she would keep coming back. For him. Because he was worth it.
She gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze, then slowly, she moved around to face him. She met his eyes, her gaze unwavering.
"I'll be here," she said simply. "For as long as you need me."
Zack didn't respond immediately. Instead, he turned his gaze back to his parents' grave, his expression unreadable. His fingers brushed the flowers he had placed there, and for a moment, he felt the familiar sting of loss.
But Yurina's words lingered in his mind, a quiet warmth in the midst of his cold, ceaseless turmoil. He was still standing. Still breathing. And maybe that was enough—for now.
"Thank you," he said finally, his voice softer than before, barely audible. He wasn't sure if he was thanking her for the words, for the support, or for just being there. Maybe all three.
And with that, Zack finally turned away, leaving the grave behind, knowing that there was no changing the past. But maybe, just maybe, there was a chance at something different in the future.
End of Chapter