In a way, death seems to make something feel even more concrete. There's nothing more real to Kino than inanimate body, especially one of someone who Kino had just been with several days ago. People, as they were, were transient. In your life for a few hours at a time, snatches of experiences that one could so easily take for granted. Sometimes, to Kino, people could feel more like experiences than actual people—events that happened, which could be put in chronological order and enjoyed like flipping through the pages of a journal.
They'd started to feel more real here. Momentary points in time solidified into a person with habits, quirks, feelings, faults. That transformation had been strange (even frightening) to Kino, at first. The ensuing sense of seeing someone again was strange and novel, especially after years of being nearly alone.
And to have that gone in an instant. Perhaps that was the coalescence of the reality of a person to Kino. When they were finally gone.
Kino first registers that Tess has arrived when she speaks up—curses, actually, though the word doesn't sound acerbic in Kino's ear as it might normally. They can only focus on the feeling of it. People grieve in different ways. Kino, momentarily stalling out; Hinata, restless and somewhat systematic; Tess... honest, showing hurt in a way that came to her naturally.
Hinata tells the truth of it—they had been fighting, and Hibari had left. Nic had still been alive at that point, but...
Kino remembers him smiling and shaking his head, changing subjects, avoiding whenever Kino had suggested after missions and battles he go and get his wounds seen to. It—why had he always—]
We should.
[That's what one did with a body, after all. Or what they should do.
Kino had seen plenty of people die. They had killed many of them. They had never buried anyone.]
no subject
In a way, death seems to make something feel even more concrete. There's nothing more real to Kino than inanimate body, especially one of someone who Kino had just been with several days ago. People, as they were, were transient. In your life for a few hours at a time, snatches of experiences that one could so easily take for granted. Sometimes, to Kino, people could feel more like experiences than actual people—events that happened, which could be put in chronological order and enjoyed like flipping through the pages of a journal.
They'd started to feel more real here. Momentary points in time solidified into a person with habits, quirks, feelings, faults. That transformation had been strange (even frightening) to Kino, at first. The ensuing sense of seeing someone again was strange and novel, especially after years of being nearly alone.
And to have that gone in an instant. Perhaps that was the coalescence of the reality of a person to Kino. When they were finally gone.
Kino first registers that Tess has arrived when she speaks up—curses, actually, though the word doesn't sound acerbic in Kino's ear as it might normally. They can only focus on the feeling of it. People grieve in different ways. Kino, momentarily stalling out; Hinata, restless and somewhat systematic; Tess... honest, showing hurt in a way that came to her naturally.
Hinata tells the truth of it—they had been fighting, and Hibari had left. Nic had still been alive at that point, but...
Kino remembers him smiling and shaking his head, changing subjects, avoiding whenever Kino had suggested after missions and battles he go and get his wounds seen to. It—why had he always—]
We should.
[That's what one did with a body, after all. Or what they should do.
Kino had seen plenty of people die. They had killed many of them. They had never buried anyone.]