Empty Nest Pt.8 (final)

    "And you're just as dirty as the rest of us. These pointless delusions you keep hanging on to won't bring you a damn thing. Just do yourself a favor and face the music."
     "I-I don't care." She was shaking like a leaf. "I don't wanna hurt anyone anymore!"
She buckled and fell to her knees. "I-I don't want to die."
     Genkaku's expression was almost sad. "Such a fool, Chickadee," he sighed. "Looks like I'll have to save you sooner than expected, before you fall harder for these lies-"
"You stay the hell away from my daughter."
     Everyone turned to Nagi, who was standing defiantly beside his child.
 "You too, Owl?" Genkaku looked to him and sighed. "Come on now love, spare each other the suffering. Salvation, peace, contentment, they can only be reached beyond our flesh."
     The monk took a step forward. He was so close that Nagi could feel the cigarette smoke stinging his eyes. "Owl, aren't you the carnage that hates, kills, and saves everything?"
     "Don't give me that crap. I'm just a weak human," Nagi's voice rose louder still. "As if death can save anyone!"
    Genkaku knit his brows together.
     "Salvation is life, and the comforts of others." Nagi looked around the room at his remaining comrades, blood-drenched and battle-scarred. "And my saviors are right here."
     He was answered by a long silence. Nobody moved. Nobody so much as twitched until Genkaku finally let out a sigh.
     "So you're speaking with a "clear mind," Owl?" he said in a low voice.
     "The crazy you was exquisite." A series of clicks sounded from his gun. "The murdering you was beautiful."
     He suddenly aimed the gun back at Kaname.
     "I loved you."
     He fired.
     "Kaname!" Nagi screamed.
     It was only a few blurry seconds— he was running, he was reaching for her, he was pushing her out of the way.
     Both of them went down, the force stacking them together like falling dominoes. Bits of blood splattered itself onto those around them, eyes wide with horror, as the shot tore through layer upon layer of skin and blood, muscle and tissue. A scream rang out, from whom it was unknown, as the two of them collapsed into mangled heaps on the floor.
     "But if you're going to turn back into hypocrites who can't save anyone, then I'll just have to save you myself." The monk's voice was completely devoid of emotion.
     Ganta, who had been watching the disaster unfold from the floor, shuddered, afraid.
     "Why?" His voice quivered. "They just wanted their family back together."
     Stiff and obviously in pain, Ganta still forced his legs to move forward. Shiro stood in front of him, but he pushed her to the side.
     "If you're gonna do this, why do you gotta be so damn cliché? Life's hard, you think we don't know that?!" His whole body went numb as ruby markings snaked down his face and arms. "But we have people who rely on us and need us to stay alive."
     A swirling mass of blood formed in his hand.
     "Don't you see?" he shouted. "We don't have time to die!"
     His Branch barreled toward Genkaku. The monk tried shooting at it, to no avail. The blast only grew in force the closer it came. He took a step to run, but something stopped him. On the floor, still bleeding badly, was Nagi, gripping the bottom of his kimono. How was he still alive?
     "I'm your guide to hell," he said through gritted teeth.
     And it was only when he looked down that Genkaku noticed his little pupil. Next to Nagi was Kaname, on her knees, shielded beneath him, dragging him down alongside her father. She looked upset, but not afraid, or even sad.
Genkaku smiled at them, something almost warm.

    "Huh," he said as the blast closed in on them, "So you're my salvation after all."

    The explosion was loud. Genkaku fell backward into the smoke. The remaining deadmen and undertakers looked up to an open sky, dotted with stars and neon lights. A cough could be heard amidst the dark clouds. As the smoke cleared, Ganta and Karako ran to Nagi's side.

    "I-Igarashi-kun...where are you?" His breathing was heavy and ragged now.

    "I-I'm right here."

    He dug his hand into his pocket with the last effort he could muster and pulled out a piece of candy.

    "Here," he moved his trembling hand toward Ganta, "Take this, hurry. I have no more use for it."

    He took it with a gracious melancholy.

    "Is," the man's voice was weak and fading, "Is she...nearby?"

    Karako looked over her shoulder and, sure enough, there was Kaname, just a few feet away. A bitter cough emitted from the little girl's body.

    "Could...you, please..."

    He did not need to say it— she understood. Slowly, Karako got up and walked over to badly injured Kaname. As she picked her up and carried her toward Nagi, she could have sworn that she felt the little girl tug on her necklace. Carefully, she placed the child's body next to her father's.

    Nagi reached out a trembling hand and stroked his daughter's cheek. He was not sure if she was dead or not, but he was certain that he was already dying. Slowly, weakly, he pulled her close, curling protectively over her limp body.

    "N-Nagi-san," Ganta mumbled with tears in his eyes. Karako was trying to force them back as well, without success.

    Nagi smiled at them, or tried to anyway. One by one, warm droplets began to pelt his face, each one sounding with a tiny, almost inaudible, splash.

    "Thank you...Karako," he said as his voice steadily grew weaker, "for the rain...it's warm."

    The woman's body wracked a sob.

    "I'm sure a beautiful rainbow will... come...out."

    Despite the pain, Nagi craned his neck to take one last look at his child. It was ironic, but she looked almost peaceful, finally free from the pain she had been forced to suffer with him. He brushed a few loose hairs from her face. His vision was starting to go black. Everything had already gone quiet. He could barely feel a thing anymore. Even still, he hugged the little girl's body close, not crying or sorrowful— only smiling.
     "Thank you," his voice was weak, barely above a whisper in her ear." I love you."
     At that moment, he went completely still. His breath stopped. He was gone. Karako's body wracked with sobs, unable to contain her grief anymore. He was dead. After all they had fought for, after everything he endured, now he was dead.
 
--
    "Hey did you hear about Owl?"

    "What about him?"

    "You know that Carnival Corpse last week?"

    "Oh yeah, poor bastard got pinned against his wife, right?"

    Karako only half-listened to the swarm of voices as she sipped her drink. The Owl, huh? The guy had become pretty well known around G-Block for some time now. Well, getting married in prison tends to bring that kind of attention. The Owl and the Mourning Dove— she had seen the man before, more specifically, when she was thrashing him around in the training gym, but she never really wanted anything to do with either of them.

    As far as she was concerned, the two of then were fools. Only the strong survived in DW. You either died or built a wall around yourself. Coldness or temper didn't matter as long as it kept you alive. Maybe things had been different on the outside, but this was a completely different playing field. As for Karako, if it was do or die, she sure as hell wasn't going to die. What did she care if their stupidity came back to bite them in the ass?

    Apparently she did, because she kept listening.

    "Yeah, that guy took a lot of cheap hits. It was pretty obviously a setup."

    "That's the thing, it was a setup. The promoter caught 'em in the act."

    "No shit!"

    "But wasn't Yoshiko pregnant?"

    Wait, what?
     One boy in the crowd cracked his neck loudly.

    "You didn't see the live feed last night, did you?" he said with a smirk.

    Pregnant?

    "Turned it off. What happened?"

    So did Karako. The after show had come on just past midnight. She had been sleeping then, so she just shut the TV off.

    The boy cracked his neck again. "Owl's old lady got split down the middle, that's what."

    "What?" Karako shouted unexpectedly.

    "Oh geez."

    "That can't be true. That's low, even for the promoter."
    "Nope, he's right. That damned monk, the Undertaker, he cut her down like nobody's business."

    "Good God, poor Yoshiko."

    "Poor Dove? More like poor Owl! The man was crying and shaking her corpse, just sitting there, croaking."
Croaking? Oh right, that crazy bitch of a doctor ripped out his vocal chords during the penalty game.

    "Man, that's harsh."

    "Say, where is Owl?"

    "Dunno. Guy disappeared soon after."

    They kept talking, but Karako didn't hear a word of it. The noise had become jumbled. As much as she wanted to say "Serves them right," she couldn't bring herself to scold them for it. Even for this place, that was going too far, and as for that baby, no way could it have survived something like that.

    "God, what a fool," she whispered underneath the white noise.

--
    "At least," Karako said," At least they got to be together. In the end."

    "Yeah, I guess so," Ganta mumbled.
The woman put her hand on the little girl's back and she could swear she felt her stiffen.

    "Wait a minute," she murmured.

    Quickly, she wiped the tears away from her eyes, turned Kaname over on her back, and opened up her torn kimono. She was bleeding— still bleeding— from a wound in her side.

    "Ganta, check her pulse." Karako ushered him over and put his hand to the girl's wrist. As carefully as possible, she placed her ear to Kaname's chest. Her heart rate was weak, but it was there. She was still alive, in critical condition, but alive.

    "She still has a pulse!" Ganta was said with a mix of amazement and confusion. "How is she alive?"
Karako looked over at Nagi's mutilated body and forced her grief to the back of her mind. "I guess when he pushed her he managed to take most of the damage."

    "Then, will she survive?"

    "Maybe, but we have to hurry."

    "We can take her," Ohara said.

    "Then let's get moving." Karako glanced over at Nagi's body. "Let's take him with us too. We can at least give him a proper burial."

    Her companions nodded and set to work retrieving the corpse. Karako held Kaname firmly in her arms, careful to keep pressure on wound. Ganta turned to her and placed his palm on the girl's forehead.

    "Will she make it?" he asked.

    "Who knows?" she said. "Are you coming or what?"

    "No." he smiled weakly. "I have people who still need me here."

    "Suit yourself. But we need to go now. Take care kid."

    On that note, she disappeared into the night with the others. Ganta managed to mutter a weak goodbye before falling to the floor beside Shiro. Outside, the small group of deadmen hurried onto a docked ferry. After a few hiccups, the engine started up and they were off. Karako looked out from the deck at the prison getting smaller in the distance. She squeezed Kaname gently, taking one final look at Deadman Wonderland before it disappeared on the horizon.

--
    The cemetery was warm and quiet, not unusual for spring. It was empty, save for two people walking between the rows of headstones. One was a tanned young woman in a flowing coat. Next to her was a little girl with red hair. She was situated a bit awkwardly on a pair of metal crutches. Both of them carried bouquets of white flowers. Eventually, they stopped in front of a grave. They each knelt down and placed their flowers at the foot of the headstone.
"Hey Nagi," Karako said. "Guess what? Deadman Wonderland's finally gone. It took a while, but it's closed. For good."

    She touched her neck, enjoying the lightness she still felt when she remembered there was no longer a collar there.

    She reached out her other hand and pressed it flat against the stone.

    "We did it, Nagi." She smiled warmly.
     The child placed a hand on the stone as well.
     "I'm not in the hospital anymore. And I start going to school soon," Kaname said. She looked down sadly. "I really miss you. And I'm still really sorry."
     Karako glared at her. "Stop saying that every time you come here. Kana, you and your dad were both tricked." Her expression softened. "It's not your fault."
     Or his for that matter.
     Kaname did not say anything, simply kept her hand firm against the tombstone. If she closed her eyes, she could still picture her father's smiling face. She had already forgotten what her mother looked like. She didn't want to forget him too.
     "It's almost sunset." Karako stood up. "Let's get ourselves home soon."
Kaname did not lift her head. "Okay, just, can I have a minute?"
     The woman looked at her with a gentle expression. "Of course. I'll go get the car started. Take as long as you need."
     She walked away, leaving Kaname alone with the gravestone. The little girl kept her head bowed, almost as if she were praying. Once she knew that Karako was out of sight, she pulled out the strand of beads that hung beneath her shirt. She held them to her face, and punched her arm to try to keep from crying. That was a rule: she never cried when she had her beads, especially not at her father's grave. It seemed disrespectful somehow.

    "I miss you too," she mumbled. "Even if you were bad."
     She meant it more than she wished she did. She loved her father immensely, then and now, but she had only known him a short while. The Undertakers had been there since she was born. She had seen them all do horrible things— torture and kill, brainwash her father, and rip innocent people to shreds. But she had also seen them all laughing around the breakfast table. She had had tea parties with Hibana. She once spent a birthday at the carnival as a present from Tamaki. She had fallen asleep in Genkaku's lap as he absentmindedly strummed his guitar.
     Though she would never say so to Karako, even though she knew the Undertakers were damaged, horrible people, she could not forget what they had done for her.
     Or how alike we are.
     She had been a monster just like them. She wasn't so sure that she was not one still. No matter what Karako or any doctors told her, she knew she was not blameless. And she never wanted to forget it.
    "I just," she spoke to the empty wind. "I hope you're all okay now."
    Crutches in tow, she took a few wobbly steps away from the grave. "I still love you," she murmured, and the breeze almost seemed to talk back. "Wherever you are now."