Time and tide wait for no man. And the weather was no different.

Legs sank ankle-deep into sticky mud and clothes were plastered to their wearers as the rain came down in torrents, drenching all who were foolish enough to try and brave its wrath by staying outdoors. Water fell from the heavens in such vast quantities that the very earth was saturated with it, causing some to form muddy pools that were deep enough to completely submerge the grass. To top it all off, the water was not alone; vicious gales blew across the lands with terrifying intensity, making the falling sheets of rain look like massive, translucent lace curtains that billowed at the whims of a restless breeze.

But the people still stood out in the storm, disregarding the possibility of them catching a life-threatening cold.

For some of them, staying out and braving the storm was a matter of expressing sorrow.

For some, it was a way of acknowledging greatness.

For some, it was a mark of grudging respect.

And yet for some others, it was a combination of all the aforementioned reasons.

It would later be said that the rain was almost a sign that the very spirits of the land were paying their final respects to the dearly departed. Some said that the rain was sent by the heavens to mask the mourners' tears, since he would have been appalled over the fact that people had cried over his grave. Some said it was a sign of karmic penance, since he had been burnt to ashes before he was buried; the idea that Mother Earth preferred to reclaim souls in their natural, wholesome bodies was clearly still popular to a certain extent. Though of course, few knew that he had been cremated in the first place. His last will and testament had been very explicit with regards to how he would be dealt with after passing on, after all. So in the end, only two people were content with blaming the rain on the deceased soul's impudence.

In fact, his will had even included instructions that requested minimal mourning, since he was, after all, off on his next great adventure.


Here I stand, seeing your coffin being put into a hole.

It's almost pathetic, really. So many people being sad over you dying and all that. Hmph.

I don't know why I bothered to come here and get soaked for the sake of seeing your rotting remains being disposed of.

She persuaded me to come, though. So yeah, put the blame on her. She said it'll be good to pay respects and all that, and with that coming from a bounty hunter...

... I guess you've had the last laugh, heh. I never did get my rematch with you, but here I am, standing in a bleeding thunderstorm at your funeral. So you win... though you're not alive to see it.

Damn it all to Hell.


It's cold. And since it's your funeral, I'd say that the weather's perfectly suited for the occasion.

We may not have seen eye to eye on certain matters, but... you never failed to surprise me, most of the time. Your perception on life was unique, to say the least. And somehow, flawed as you were, you were the friend who was always there when I needed one the most.

Burmecia itself has probably never seen a storm this intense. One of the surviving Cleyran Oracles I met earlier said that the spirits must be showing their great respect for you through the rain, and now, as the rain mingles with my tears, I'm almost inclined to believe her words.

Don't go getting all smug in the afterlife, though - once my time comes, I'll get up there and raise a whole lot of Hell if I find out you've been having some laughs at my expense again.


You have come a long way.

When I first met you, you were so afraid of dying. Life was so precious to you that you almost went down the same path that Kuja took, for entirely different reasons.

But you surprised me. Against all odds, you somehow managed to defy all my expectations and prove me wrong. My entire outlook on living was turned upside-down because of your actions.

It will always be a regret of mine that I never did get to know you better.

Fare thee well in the Great Beyond, my brother.


I will always remember how we first met.

You were a thief, and you indeed stole something from me - during the times we spent together, you managed to steal my heart. I don't know what it was, but... your spirit was a beautiful one in itself. I learned so much from you.

I almost laughed when I read your last will and testament. Even after you passed on, you wouldn't tolerate the idea of rotting away somewhere. Seeing your life within the castle's walls should have been a clear sign, but... I am sorry for making you leave your carefree life behind.

Now, you have left this world behind you, going on yet another adventure... I really hope that the times we had together will always be precious to you, as they will always be for me.

I can't comply with the other part of your will, since the tears insist on coming forth by themselves...

... I miss you so much.

He lived his life to the fullest, traveling along a path few would have dared to take. He made his fair share of mistakes, but in the end, he went to his final rest with few regrets. Every time he had been faced with darkness, he had kept his light shining. At some times, his friends had to step in and save him, but His spirit had blazed its own path, charting a route worthy of being plotted as a stellar constellation by the Gaian gods.

Even as the coffin was lowered into the swampy burial plot, water seeped into the coffin, trying to scatter ashes that could never be scattered.

Even in death, he defied the odds in his own way, refusing to be dominated.

And that was how Zidane liked it.