Hours after holding their little ceremony for Mister Satan in the wilderness, they were on the move again. North through the mountains, the sun slowly dipping in the sky behind them, shadows growing deeper and longer as the evening wore on. Steady and determined, they crossed hill and vale, and only when the last vestiges of daylight had fled and left the island in darkness did they stop to rest.
They made their camp among a copse of trees, their surroundings swaddled by the velvet night. The stars seemed to stand still in their sentry positions, no distant meteors streaking across the endless black, not even the twinkling of a distant sun or planet visible. Coldness, too, crept in with the shadows, settling like a wet, icy blanket over everything. All of it seeping, covering them in a deeper dark and chill than could be easily resisted.
Corruption and malevolence seemed to hang in the air like a fog, dragging down their spirits. It was a force so oppressive, so insidious that it felt like the island itself was attempting to rob them of even the faintest trace of hope… and it was certainly very effective in doing so, for a select few.
Coda sat huddled on a log, hunched miserably in on herself, shivering. Despite the lack of breeze, the low temperatures were oppressive, sinking into her limbs and raising goosebumps along her skin, clamping her body tight in its bitterly cold grasp.
She sat and stared down at her hands, eyes wide and unblinking. Her battered knuckles were split and slick with gore, the oily sheen of Godfrey's blood still clinging to them. Her trench coat, too, was stained messily over its front and the back. A dull, rust-colored brown, no doubt from Mister Satan's wounds when she had carried him to his final resting place.
Really, Coda just seemed to be covered in blood all over. The stuff was clumped in her hair, streaked across her clothes and, she soon discovered after licking her teeth, there was probably some in her mouth, too. Yuck.
Suddenly, Coda jumped as two bodies, warm and solid, came to seat themselves to the right and left of her, effectively corralling her in on the log. When she raised her head and saw that it was only Kiryu and Majima, her shoulders slackened with a sigh of relief.
Her gaze drifted off to the side, idly seeking out her other companions. A yard or two away were Zayin and Nanaue, hunched over one of their duffel bags. The Angel of Challenge rummaged through their limited allotment of MREs while the shark man watched, a line of saliva dripping down from the corners of his gaping maw.
The girl's attention shifted back to the yakuza on either side of her. A slight furrow appeared between her brows, but then a veil of indifference fell across her face. Her gaze drifted went to her hands, the sun-blonde strands of her unbound hair hiding much of her face from view, concealing her features in shadow.
For a long moment they just sat there, not speaking or moving, the silence between them building into an awkwardness that was so heavy they could've choked on it. It was only broken when Majima spoke up at last, putting them all out of their collective misery.
“Hey, sweetheart,” he began brusquely, elbowing her gently in the ribs and shooting her a sidelong grin. "Coda, wasn't it? Yeah, thought so. You look like you could use a bit of cheering up, Coda. If ya feel like lettin' loose 'bout something, ol' Majima's all ears. Whatever it takes to make you feel better."
At her side, Kiryu nodded in agreement. He looked more solemn as he regarded her, his stoic gaze and knife-sharp features reflecting clear understanding, even in the murky shadows of the late hour.
“We know things may seem bleak now. Mister Satan was a friend to us all, even in the short time we knew him," he told her, speaking quietly. "But it's better to celebrate life than mourn death. He was a dragon, unflinching in the face of adversity, casting aside his own safety in the pursuit of honor. Though his journey has come to an end, we should not weep for what has been lost, but instead, remember him with pride."
"Don't you think I know that?" Coda spoke primly, sniffling. She quickly swiped the back of her hand over her nose, grimacing at the icy snot dripping from the tip of her nose. "I just... after all that talk about us working together, I went and mucked it up by going off alone. I thought I could handle that fight all by myself, put my big girl britches on and kick ass, but all I really did was just prove myself to be nothing but a big hypocrite. And Mister Satan paid for my arrogance with his life."
Kiryu tutted, shaking his head. "Quit blaming yourself, Coda. It isn't your fault that it went down that way. It was already a bad scene. Maybe you shouldn't have gone alone, but Mister Satan knew the risks and he chose to throw himself into that fight. He died doing what he thought was right. To protect you."
Majima clapped her on the shoulder, his fingers clasping around her arm comfortingly. “And that son of a bitch actually succeeded," he said gruffly, yet not unkindly, the faintest of smiles playing on his lips as she looked up at him in surprise. “Ya got balls, kid. Ya don't gotta jump into the fray like that again, though. I won't accept the whole sacrifice play a second time."
Falling silent as she mulled over their words, Coda looked down at her hands again. She studied the split skin over her knuckles, the gore that seemed almost like it was embedded into her skin at this point, a permanent stain on her body and soul. If only she'd been stronger, as strong as someone like Mister Satan, she could've done it...
Her hands clenched into fists and her eyes scrunched tight, squeezing shut against the hot tears that threatened to spill down her cheeks. Oh, but it hurt. A hurt that ran deeper than the lightning, deeper than the wounds that had been inflicted on her body. It was a hurt that cut to her very core, settling like a shard of glass inside her chest— keenly felt and impossible to ignore.
But Kiryu and Majima were right, she had to move on. Staying in a mindset of pain and despair was no way to live. There was absolutely no value in sitting around feeling sorry for herself. She'd had her moment to stew in her feelings, and now she needed to shove all that aside, to look ahead, to find a way forward.
Opening her eyes, Coda breathed out a long slow breath, resettling. She looked between the two yakuza sitting beside her, smiling. It wasn't her most energetic smile, not by far: a little thin and wobbly around the corners, marred with various cuts and scrapes. But it got the job done, in her humble opinion.
"So..." she began slyly, her smile growing as her spirits lifted. "When did you guys get all soft, huh?"
"Hah!" Majima barked out a laugh, a sharp jackal grin sliding onto his face. "Don't get used to it, kiddo."
Head turning, Kiryu looked at him solemnly.
"There is strength in acknowledging your emotions, Majima-san," he stated, with a deliberately flat affect.
"Yeah, 'course there is! But who wants to spend their time moping around all day? I'd rather go out and rock someone's shit with my fists. A good ol' slugfest, ya know what I'm saying?"
And so it began, off to the races yet again, starting in on debating yet another useless philosophical point into the bloody ground. Coda watched them, wobbly smile still on her face, a wistful gleam in her eyes.
Oh, if only Mister Satan could see them now...
