A/N: Ohii. Uhm, yes. Renzoo fanfic ;D it starts out kinda cliche, but aye, what can you do? I really hope to get some positive feedback. I know, this chapter is so very short, but I promise the next one's won't be.

Tell me if I have something wrong. :] And a beta reader would be awesome. I feel lame for asking this, but yeah. xD

Pain. Agonizing, excruciating, insufferable pain racked Yazoo's heart, numbing out all of the physical pain that he had only moments ago been forced to endure. Nothing, nothing was worse than this feeling; this nauseating feeling. This heart-wrenching feeling.

"L-Loz. . ."

His poor older brother. Mangled. Broken, much like him, except worse. Dead. The small glimmer of hope which entangled itself with his pain only some minutes ago was slowly fading. That small sliver of light…slipping into nonexistence.

His entire body felt as if it had been set on fire. His ribs ached like nothing else, more than likely broken. His leg screamed and protested against any and all movements. His entire body was bruised, scattered with them. The only part of him that hurt the most was his heart - yet…the laceration that made place there, there in his heart, was the only scar not visible.

He gasped - once, twice, before his hand grabbed at his chest as if to ease the pain. Tears. Gah, he detested them more than anything. His older brother cried often. His older brother had annoyed him to no end, yet their bond was like nobody else's . He used to think a lot, about why he must detest them so much. Maybe it's not so much that Loz is just annoying, but having to see him cry constantly just brought him pain. Maybe it was Loz's fault that he couldn't cry.

But no. He could not blame Loz. Not now, and not ever again. And there came that glimmer of hope again, no - much, much stronger than just a glimmer - and his mind was racing. Making promises of how he would show his older brother nothing but love if his assumptions were wrong and the large man were actually alive. It all crashed down onto him, and those few seconds of uncontrollable gasping and panting died down.

"L-Loz!"

He hunched over, regardless of the pain that made its way through his body, and out of pure desperation began removing the rubble from atop his brother. Metal, rocks, anything and everything. And then a rock with a jagged edge buried itself beneath the younger remnants fingernail, despite the thick leathered-gloves covering them. He ignored it, and just like everything else which had been in the way, tossed it to the side.

Kadaj was dead, he was sure of it; he saw him pass. Saw him voluntarily pass into the life stream, which caused more pain than imaginable. But he, then, had thought that they could go together: Kadaj, Cloud, Loz, and himself. Yet there he was, still alive, and the thought of both Kadaj and Loz leaving him behind was much more unbearable.

No, no, no, no, he began to chant in his mind. No. Please. NO!

But his prayers went up to deaf ears, for he could see that there was no hope for the older male. He knew so, right then and there, as he leaned over some more, and out of pure determination, lifted Loz's limp (but still ridiculously heavy) body up into a sitting position. He did not noticed the weight, though; he held him in his arms as if he weighed nothing more than a few pounds. "Brother. . ."

He refused to let his tears slip, to let his emotions show, even though there was no-one else around. No. He mustn't give into his weak side, which everyone, even someone like himself, possessed. He had to stay strong.

"Wh-where did you…Wh-" a pain in his chest, physical this time. Splat. He spits. A wad of saliva mixed with a tinge of red, landing somewhere to the side of him, adding to the debris. "Where…are you?" Loz's body was freezing. But why? Why wasn't he disintegrating into nothing but a green sliver of light like his other brother had? It didn't make sense. He checked his pulse.

Nothing.

The pain was so intense. He wanted to scream. He wanted to find the person responsible for this. He wanted to find Strife and tear him into nothing. Let him feel the pure, raw, natural pain which took no time in assaulting him now. He wanted to avenge his two beloved brothers.

…He wanted to scream; he only grunted.

He grunted again. Dropped his brother to the ground roughly, seemingly carelessly, and shot his hand to the holster which held his gun - usually. He only felt it empty.

Fine. He would tear Strife apart with his bare hands - or, his gloved hands, at that. And so he stood, slowly, willing himself on through the rubble. He was delusional, thinking he was going to kill someone in his current condition. His leg failed him; timberrrr, the ground came crashing toward him, engulfing him in nothing but darkness. He wouldn't want to wake up if it weren't for that Cloud still running about.