Mamoru…

       He yelped and grabbed at his head, trying to shut Schuldich’s mental voice from his mind as the German tore into his brain. Omi slammed sideways, right into Yohji, knocking the blonde to the ground. He stumbled threw the combatants, pushing both friend and foe out of the way in his mad dash away from the memories that threatened to destroy him.

Where are you going, Mamoru?        He could feel every word burn into his head as the cliff drew nearer. Behind him, he could hear the shouts of Weiss echoing into the night, mingling amidst the laughter of Schwarz. White and Black. Weiss and Schwarz. Good and Evil. Tsukiyono and Takatori. Omi and Mamoru.
       He could see the moon, so bright in the dark ground, glowing such brilliant silver. The lunar beams bounced off his caramel hair, changing it to pale platinum. He could feel nothing, not the pain from battle, not the screaming of his lungs, only the waves of regret and agony that showered down upon him like the rain striking his cheeks.
       All he could see was the moon, shining, glowing, no matter the darkness surrounding it, the moon always shined. Omi always shined. Mamoru never shined. The moon was Omi and he was Mamoru. He needed Omi, needed the moon.

“Omi!” Ken screeched vainly behind him, his own voice ragged. The name sent Mamoru into a speed burst, sending him into the moon.

Sending him over the cliff.

He dropped to the water below, dropped to the rocks. Dropped to the moon.

~End~