When We Two Parted

by Redemption Moon

Oneshot. Rather depressing KenAyaAyaKen fic for you. Someone has to learn to let go. Aya doesn't know if he should be selfish or if he could be selfless.

If you liked this, REVIEW. If you didn't... REVIEW still! I'd like to know what you think, even if you flame me. There'll be no offence taken.

RM : Another dark one-shot for you. No, I am not, in any way, depressed. I am just... well for some reason, strangely, darkly-inspired. I've been getting these dismal ideas right and left for a reason that escapes me.

My muse must be somewhat depressed but not I! I am very happy because the torture of school is going to wind down soon, giving me an opportunity to sleep at night! What joy! Thank you to everyone (from and the LJ communities) who reviewed 'Under the Shade of the Apple Tree,' few though you may be, it is still greatly and deeply appreciated.

Notes: The song 'Intimacy' was sung by The Corrs; the beautiful, beautiful poem 'When we Two Parted' is by Lord Byron. I have no claim over them nor do I pretend to have any.

P.S. I find it funny that putting 'Intimacy' here was just purely coincidental. I was listening to my really old Corrs cd and I thought, hey, I want to put one of their songs in, and then I was listening to Paddy McCarthy but then I said I want a slower song and boom, Intimacy was next and it was just P-E-R-F-E-C-T.

"When We Two Parted"

01.

It was an annoyance for him.

He noticed that his vision was starting blur just right after Christmas – right after all the hustle and bustle and holiday shoppers.

He had gotten out to check the mailbox one morning – and found out that he couldn't read what the telephone bill said.

It wasn't such a big deal, really, because the stupid company had a habit of printing their letters like it was only fighter pilots with inhuman vision who receive their phone bills.

Besides, he refused to get glasses. Well, that is of course until it starts to interfere with the missions and even then, he'd be getting contacts most definitely.

It was a male pride thing for him as much as it was a trouble to have to wear such a contraption everyday. And imagine swinging around a 3-foot katana like a raving lunatic with a pair of wire rims perched on your nose. Besides, it'd be... well, weird. But that is until then.

Secretly, he hated the thought of looking like a bookworm/nerd in front of Ken whom always made fun of his almost obsessive fascination with books. The brunette would never let him live it down; what with the constant teasing about his collection of poetry by Keats, Byron, Wordsworth or some other poetic genius.

Ken never was much of a poetry guy. Ken was a free spirit... he loved grass and sunshine, football and mud...

And yet, despite his restless untamable energy, he found a reserve of patience Aya never thought existed, to sit down and listen out loud to Aya reading a piece from one of his many books of poetry.

Ken would just sit there, lounged lazily like a resting, sated tiger, his eyes dancing with merriment as he listened to Aya's carefully pronouncement of words mellowed by time from his dog-eared manuscripts.

Aya loved those quiet moments. He loved sitting in the comfort of his room, bathed in the golden lamplight and friendly shadows. He loved the hushed electricity Ken exuded as the younger man stretched before him lazily, seemingly absorbed by his slow oration.

It felt like taming a wild tiger with your words.

There was nothing quite like it.

He had asked Ken once: "Why do you stay?"

He knew that the brunette was more comfortable doing something that expelled his boundless energy, his excess of restless life and vitality.

Ken had merely smiled at him, the corners of his beautiful grey eyes crinkling in boyish amusement as if it were Aya who were wont to act immaturely and not him. "Poetry sound so much better when you're the one reading it aloud."

And that was that.

Just that.

Aya didn't want to ruin those moments; and strangely enough, he thought that wearing glasses would do just that. Maybe it was because Ken had once mentioned before, even in passing and even in his light quipping that Aya would look like Oracle if ever wore them... Cold. Impenetrable. Like the man he punched on that first meeting. Untouchable.

So he didn't. And he didn't let Ken know his vision wasn't as good as before. No one had to know... and it wasn't so bad, really. Just a little more nuisance to his life, nothing more.

02.

Ken paused, his hand raised to clip a dried leaf from the carnation he was trimming, and gazed at Aya quizzically. Aya had been acting strange lately.

Well, not really strange, more like... well... not like normal.

He had been squinting a lot. Of course Ken had to notice.

Even in the sun-dappled shop, he was straining to read the neat figures written in his own handwriting on the delivery ledger.

It got Ken worried.

It was worse during nighttime, whenever Aya would read him a poem, he'd still narrow his eyes and peer at the bold letters in his poetry books. He had already replaced the light bulb of his bedside lamp with a bright, almost blinding, fluorescent bulb which kind of put off the atmosphere most of the time.

Ken wasn't stupid.

He might be naïve and ignorant at times but he was not stupid.

He knew Aya and he knew how stubborn Aya could be.

The man didn't know how to admit weakness, whether it be physical or no. And Ken knew secretly that Aya had taken offence somewhat to his occasional jibes concerning glasses and Oracle. He really hadn't meant it that way. It really had been just a light-hearted joke.

He had no way of knowing that Aya would need glasses ever in his lifetime and he had never showed signs of needing one before anyway...

But it seemed like fate, as usual, had other plans.

He knew Aya needed glasses, it should just take a little prodding and some Ken magic.

03.

It wasn't hard to corner him in the supply room. Ken had always been very good at making excuses... or so he thought –

At least it got him out of having to clean the shop whenever he felt like a romp in the football field would do him some good.

He had never found out that Aya would come along and be the one to fill in for his missed work. Aya would then be thinking that the excuses Ken made were really lame... not that it mattered anyway, Aya would fill in for him just the same.

When Aya had gone to get some potted soil, Ken, ever the impatient one, hurried after him and shut the door behind him silently.

The storeroom was rather dim, one of the bulbs had burned out just earlier that morning and someone had yet to buy a replacement, so it was disconcertingly dark, just as a normal storeroom should be.

He watched Aya fumble and swing around aimlessly in the dingy glow of the little bulb, as if randomly willing his hands to fall upon what he was looking for.

For some reason, that scared him a little.

He was afraid that Aya's eyesight would fail completely.

Aya's eyes.

Aya's eyes were the most beautiful part of him.

Ken knew how much Aya valued his eyesight, how much Aya loved seeing the sunset and watching birds flying freely in the air.

Ken loved their mauve depths to a fault.

Aya's eyes were Ken's window into his soul, his very world, his thoughts, his passions, his love. It was through Aya's eyes that he expressed his every emotion, where he bared his very soul.

Aya's eyes were Ken's lifeline, and as much as Ken hated the thought of having a glass barrier before it, he knew Aya needed it.

Ken had kept his voice light, just in case Aya would go on the defensive. " You need to wear glasses Aya."

Aya turned his head in his direction, seemingly as if to define the dim outline of his form against what light that came from the cracks in the doorway.

There, he did it again. Aya squinted like a mole coming up into the world above it.

" I don't need it." The redhead replied quickly in clipped tones. Aya turned and resumed what he was doing... which was fishing for the bags of soil amidst the bags of fertilizer, wood grating, pebbles and whatnot.

Ken stepped forward, deeper into the inky dimness.

The room smelled different, he thought. Maybe they had been delivered a different kind of planting soil this week. In the murkiness of the room, it was the scent that he found overpowering.

Ken gave a little smile. It wasn't as if he wasn't expecting the answer. It wouldn't have been Aya if he said something otherwise. "You act like a bat in sunlight all the time." He said with a grin and handed Aya a bag of soil that he was looking for.

"I don't want this brand." Aya said suddenly.

Ken stared at him and shook his head wryly, his hand on his hip. Aya really was the stubborn kind. "They only deliver one type of soil at a time, remember Aya?"

When Aya didn't reply, he made a sound of exasperated annoyance. "Hmph. Well if you're not coming then I guess I'll have to cancel the appointment I made with this foreign doctor. I already paid him the consultation fee and it wasn't exactly very cheap; and then I think I'll just stay home the whole week. I don't want to go to the game Saturday – I won't be able to trust you if you keep on bumping around things and kill yourself on a loose knife or something."

Aya could almost hear the pout in Ken's voice. Ach.

He sighed. He knew how much Ken wanted to go to that inter-district soccer match that weekend- he'd been talking nonstop about it for days and as much as he loved Ken, it was tiring to hear about soccer and football and goals all the time. He knew that if Ken didn't go to the game, he'd make imaginary scenarios of how it had gone all weekend and Aya would go ballistic.

He knew Ken would really stay if he refused to go to the doctor too. The brunette was stubborn like that...

And killing himself on a 'loose knife'! Huh? Sometimes that kid had a screwed up imagination.

He snapped out of his reverie, and then Ken was at his side "Besides... I was only kidding before. You know I do that. I think glasses would look sexy on you." Ken whispered in his ear.

Hands on his shirt permeated warmth into the thin fabric. Ken's hands always felt so good.

Someone had to give in and he was pretty sure that it wasn't going to be Ken.

"Fine. I'll go." He heard so much exasperation in his own voice than he knew what to do with.

Ken really was incorrigible... and that was partly why he loved him so much.

He knew he had to anyway. It was getting worse and worse and he honestly doubted he'd be able to function well during a mission. It could get him killed. Or worse... it could get Ken killed.

That was like suffering a fate worse than death itself.

He'd just die without Ken...

04.

They emerged into the bright sunlight, Ken hand was on the crook of his back, feeling so damn reassuring. The air in the shop was sweet and pure, so unlike the air inside the storeroom; and Aya couldn't help but feel for the millionth time since they had started to be together that life was just absolutely beautiful.

Ken had that effect on people.

At the shop, Omi and Yohji exchanged knowing glances. It was obvious that Ken had gotten what he wanted, for he was grinning like a boy on Christmas day. They had always thought that Ken would be a good influence on Aya and they always had agreed that they were right.

And although those two never really flaunted their relationship, the two blondes could tell that they were really good together.

So Aya would be getting glasses.

That would be new.

But both thought it would suit him well.

And they were pretty sure the girls would all love it.

05.

Ken had gone with him to the appointment, he joked around endlessly and tirelessly and oohed and aahed over the eyeglasses on display. In the end, it was he who chose Aya's glasses... he insisted that Aya should try wearing a pair of glasses. If he didn't like it, then they'd go back and get him contacts.

Aya looked at himself in the mirror wearing the new pair of sleek, wire-rimmed glasses.

Hmm.

It wasn't too shabby... not too shabby at all.

06.

Soon, Aya couldn't use the wire-rims that they had just gotten. His vision had gotten worse so quickly.

After a particularly long consultation and check-up with the German eye doctor, the ophthalmologist said that he had better get a second opinion because Aya wouldn't like what he was going to say.

Ken, frowned and prodded him on... but Aya, well, Aya felt a deep sense of fear. One that engulfed his entire person until it shook his very core.

He knew that something was horribly wrong. He shook his head and concentrated on the doctor, who had been speaking.

"...not sure why I didn't notice it before. I supposed it's because it really was just very small before but the way it's growing..."

The man looked pensive, nervously pulling on his stethoscope. It put Aya off the edge.

"Well?" He demanded impatiently.

Inside though, he was begging the man not to say anything at all.

" The thing is... well, I suppose there's no easy way to say this... you have ocular cancer. More specifically, you have cancer of the cornea."

The words were like a jackhammer blow to his chest. His eyes darted to Ken, who looked just about as stricken as he did. "But... that... that can't be!" Ken protested, his hands gripping the back of Aya's chair.

It was impossible! Aya couldn't possibly have cancer! That was just stupid!

"Like I said, you really should get a second opinion." The doctor merely shrugged helplessly.

06.

All the others said the same thing. They said that Aya did have cancer and the tumor was quickly getting bigger.

His only choices were continuous chemotherapy and surgery... but unless he didn't mind going blind... he had to find a donor... and soon.

07.

Weiß was temporarily put out of commission. None of the four team members accepted any form of any mission.

They were really a team; a family of sorts. Aya now knew that he had people that he could rely on, and, with some sort of morbid fatalistic conviction, at least Ken would have someone to comfort him when... if Aya died.

Somehow it didn't console Aya much.

08.

Waiting for a donor was pure hell. They all knew that the odds of finding a cornea donor were not at all very good.

But Aya did not want chemotherapy.

He didn't want Ken to see him like that. Like a living corpse.

So they waited and waited.

And the doctors had set the deadline. They said that he had 2 months to wait for a cornea donor before the tumor started for his brain. Until that time, he still had the option of a 50-50 percent chance of surviving with his vision.

After that... it was either he loses his sight... or his life...

During that time, Ken never was absent from his side.

Ken became his anchor. "I'll never leave you Aya. Not ever... even without your eyes. I'll be your eyes." His words had been so gentle, his touch so warm.

Aya knew he could trust Ken. Ken would remain to be his anchor.

09.

Aya had never, in his life, been a religious man... and yet, in this time of dire need, he found himself muttering constant prayers to whatever god that could be listening.

There were times when he would just listen to Ken's steady breathing as he slept and wondered what he did in this life or the ones before to deserve someone as beautiful as Ken. He knew he had so many faults and yet not once had heard Ken complain.

Ken was so perfect, he was perfect despite his little flaws and blunders – every one of which endeared him more to Aya.

Was it too self-centered of him to think that Ken wouldn't be able to move on if he died?

Ken was handsome, he was bright and he was hopelessly naïve. He was childlike and childish at times. He was caring and thoughtful. He was trusting to a fault. He had such a beautiful soul that any sane person would want to keep him for his or herself.

He was also doggedly loyal.

Loyal... to Aya?

That would be bad... wouldn't it?

A part of Aya told him that Ken's life would be ruined if he did not move on after Aya died... but the selfish part of him felt some measure of comfort in the thought that maybe Ken would keep him alive... even just in his memories.

He'd wake up in the morning, not fully rested, yet finding his arms wrapped tightly around the still-sleeping Ken as if he'd never let go.

And he'd never let go.

Even after he'd died, he'd still be watching Ken, protecting him. That was a vow that surpasses death.

It was his ultimate promise.

He'd protect Ken always. If he died, he'd be the mast that would protect Ken from the winds.

10.

He was checked into the hospital now, with his room right up there in the 3rd floor – the Cancer Ward.

There was only one more week left before his deadline.

One more week until they had to perform surgery without replacement corneas... or one more week before his life stretches on in a short journey to death.

Ken was never there anymore.

Yohji and Omi said that he was always out on his motorcycle, going to all hospitals within and well beyond the district, asking if they had a cornea donor.

It was somewhat hopeless really, because their connections with Kritiker had put Aya at the top of the list of recipients, just in case one did surface. And yet, there they were still, with nothing.

But, Aya thought, if it kept Ken occupied, if it kept him from getting his heart broken, why not?

It was lonely without Ken, being left in an eternal night, but it was for the best.

Maybe some sort of separation from his person would make Ken forget him a little... just a little. Maybe enough not to be hurt so much.

11.

He only had four more days to go.

It was his decision to make, one which he still could not really decide... could he burden Ken with his blind uselessness once he lost his sight? He knew that Ken would always be there, no matter what... but was he that selfish?

Or could he sacrifice his love and his life... to give Ken the chance of finding someone else? Was he that selfless?

He had to find it within himself... he'd forever hate himself if he lived. To live with the knowledge that he had trapped Ken into a life of having to take care of him...

Yet at the same time he didn't want to die. Not yet. He wanted to spend some more time with Ken.

Just a little more time.

Just some more to make it enough...

Now which was it? Selfish? Or selfless?

12.

Aya's hands always clutched a rosary now. Blood-red beads of stone with a silver cross always dangled from his grip. It had been a keepsake from his mother, one of the few that he ever kept but hid away in a jeweled case to forget about the pain.

Well, now was always full of pain, just a few more burning memories wouldn't matter much.

He couldn't see a thing most of the time, only shadows and flashes of light.

There were merciful moments though, brief interludes wherein he'd catch a glimpse of a semi-clear world beyond his perception.

He still had not gotten used to being partially blind... what more being completely blind?

It scared him, drove his wits away and scattered his composure.

But he was strong in his faith that Ken had pledged his love to him.

And he knew he had made the selfish choice.

He tried to ignore the fact that he would be binding Ken for a lifetime... if he survived the operation, that is.

Ken would always be there. For him.

So he would live.

He would live because he wanted to stay.

With Ken.

The darkness didn't matter. Ken was there.

13.

Ken appeared before him that afternoon, clothed in his usual biker jacket and jeans, his hair tousled by an errant wind. His helmet was clutched in one gloved hand and a small hard-bound book in the other. So Ken had just gone in from somewhere.

God truly was merciful, He had allowed Aya a glimpse. Of Ken.

Just a few fleeting moments of that beautiful vision.

Ken seemed tired, thinner.

Could a few days' absence allow him to lose so much weight and look so young/old?

Ken smiled at him wearily, despite the knowledge that Aya probably could not see it anyway, and looked down on the pale body on the hospital bed.

"Hi Aya."

Aya's lips twisted in a small smile. He could hear the life in that exquisite voice... it gave him so much hope for a future that could still be.

" Hey yourself."

What light banter for such a grave situation.

He heard the metal chair at his bedside whine and creak before he felt Ken's fingers intertwining with his.

They stayed like that for a few moments, saying nothing but savoring each other's company.

" I haven't seen you in a while." Aya said slowly.

" I've been... busy." Ken said, looking out the window. A brown leaf disengaged itself from a branch and twisted and floated lazily to the ground below.

He stood up for a moment and opened the window, letting in the breeze and the tender tune that accompanied it.

"...everybody's searching for intimacy...

...everybody's hurting for intimacy..."

The chair creaked in protest once more as they both breathed in the sweet air that entered the room.

"I brought one of your sentimental books." Ken said, a naughty, teasing note in his voice.

Ken had always called his poetry collection 'sentimental' but they both knew he only meant it as a joke. Aya wasn't always sentimental; only when he was with Ken.

"...remember when you were a child and

...your mama would hold you in her arms and rock you to sleep?

...now darling it's just you and I...

...let's give each other everything..."

Ken sat down on the edge of the bed, facing Aya. The springs shifted at the added weight.

He heard the rustle of worn pages as he hooked a thin arm around his lover's lean waist.

"...Everybody's searching for intimacy...

...Everybody's hurting for intimacy...

...Baby come and lay down next to me..."

He savored the night and the closeness of what they were sharing. He savored the life that he was living and the love that he was receiving.

Ken had started to read. Slowly and surely; carefully fleshing out each line before he spoke them aloud.

Aya recognized the piece immediately. 'When We Two Parted' by Lord George Gordon Byron.

When we two parted
In silence and tears,
Half broken-hearted
To sever for years,
Pale grew thy cheek and cold,
Colder thy kiss;
Truly that hour foretold
Sorrow to this.

It felt right. Ken's warm voice was just perfect for poetry... Aya thought. It was so much better than when he'd read it aloud to Ken.

The dew of the morning
Sunk chill on my brow--
It felt like the warning
Of what I feel now.
Thy vows are all broken,
And light is thy fame;
I hear thy name spoken,
And share in its shame.

Aya had always loved this poem. Lord Byron was a fantastic poet, capturing such encompassing emotion with such simple words. When could he ever write poetry like that? Then again, he never really tried... maybe, if he made it out alive... he'd write something... about Ken.

They name thee before me,
A knell to mine ear;
A shudder comes o'er me--
Why wert thou so dear?
They know not I knew thee,
Who knew thee so well--
Long, long I shall rue thee,
Too deeply to tell.

In a way, Ken had inadvertently chosen the perfect poem for the perfect moment in the perfect situation. These could possibly Aya's last few days on earth... and then they could be parted.

In secret we met--
In silence I grieve,
That thy heart could forget,
Thy spirit deceive
If I should meet thee
After long years,
How should I greet thee?--
With silence and tears.

Soon, if he survived, he'd never see Ken, not even fleetingly. He'd only hear his voice and feel his touch. But for Aya, that would always be enough.

No tears for Aya.

He would forget how to cry... for he would no longer have the means nor the capacity for tears.

But Ken... would he be silent?

In his silence... would he shed tears?

Aya started to fear.

He did not know if he had made the right decision to keep on living.

Had he?

Ken stopped, his body rigid. Aya felt the muscles in his back grow taut and he felt the sinews stretch as Ken bent down to give him a tender kiss.

Ken tasted like honey and smelled like pine.

Aya knew that he would forever love Ken. To the depths of darkness and to the end of life, Ken would still be the one that would occupy the sole room in his tattered heart.

The kiss lasted forever and yet but a fleeting moment, and soon Ken parted from his arms, standing over him with a loving glance.

"I've found you a donor Aya." He said softly. Aya blinked his unsighted eyes.

How! Where! When!

A thousand questions begged an answer and yet his lips could not move.

He felt Ken's fingertips flit lightly on his eyelids, doing a butterfly dance upon the fragile blanket of skin.

Wait... did he – kill... !

"Ken... what did you do!" He demanded. The elation and the absolute joy were gone, replaced with apprehension.

Ken laughed slowly, gently; he patted Aya's cheek ever so affectionately. " You really are funny Aya. It doesn't matter. After tonight, you'll have your eyes... I'll take care of you, I promise."

He heard the crunching of Ken's boots and a whisper floating in the wind.

" Goodbye Aya... I love you."

And then he was gone, accompanying the whistling wind into the sinning city, leaving Aya staring with his sightless eyes into the never-ending darkness.

14.

He received the news later that night.

The doctor had come in with an elated Omi and Yohji saying that there was a donor for him and that they would operate on him immediately.

As he was being wheeled into the surgery room, with Omi and Yohji's words of comfort calling out after him, he wondered where Ken was and what he did to make it happen.

All he wanted to see Ken before they operated. He had promised himself that he would live. He would fight to survive no matter what. He would punch Death in the face if that was what it took, but he would survive because he wanted to stay.

With Ken.

But where was he?

The double doors closed and he could not hear anything but the frantic chatter of the surgeons over him. Over the pounding of his heart, he wondered, 'Where are you Ken? What did you do?'

15.

They said the surgery took ten gruesome hours.

Omi and Yohji were the first to visit him and they were only allowed to because Manx had pulled some strings right up there.

His eyes were bandaged, which was just as well. He wouldn't be able to take them off for a few more weeks.

Ken wasn't there.

Aya was very afraid.

Who did he kill?

16.

They had taken off the bandages after three long weeks.

At first his vision was a little blurred, hazy. It was like he was struggling to see through a thick mist of white. He couldn't see properly thus far, just fuzzy outlines and shadows. He couldn't even see colors correctly yet – everything seemed to meld into a rainbow of assorted colors.

They said it really was supposed to be like that, and it would stay so for a while. He just had to get used to it until it cleared completely.

Every day, two of his teammates would stand by his bedside bearing gifts and flowers, nonsense stories from the flowershop or from some random experience.

Ken never showed up.

The two never mentioned anything about him or anything that would remind Aya of him.

But Aya knew... he just knew that Ken had left.

He had probably realized that Aya wasn't worth it; that he had already given enough... and he had left.

17.

Aya talked to his surgeon that night. He asked about the person who donated the cornea.

The doctor merely shook his head and said that the identity of the donor was confidential and that they couldn't disclose his name even to the recipient. Besides, he said, it wouldn't matter since the cornea donor could not be a live person. From what he had heard from the nurse that had accepted his donor contract three weeks before, the guy had no family anyway; he just wanted to make some use of his life by donating his eyes to someone who needed them.

It was too damn weird though that he had died yesterday.

God, the good doctor snorted, really made funny plans with people's lives.

His response disappointed Aya. He at least wanted some clue to what had happened. He needed something more.

He was confused and he was lonely.

He didn't care who Ken had murdered. They were all sinners.

All he wanted was that Ken would come back to him.

Each night he'd give a silent cry to the city to give back the man he loved.

Each night he'd whisper Come back to me, Ken.

18.

He just woke up one day seeing perfectly fine. It was as if his vision never faltered to begin with.

He felt the tension build up. He was anxious to see.

He had asked for a mirror, which a kind nurse had hurried to provide; and then he looked.

For the first time in a long while, he was actually looking at himself. For the first time in a while, he was actually seeing something!

The skin around his eyes was still bruised and red. The doctor once mentioned that it would take a while before they faded back to their normal color.

Aya really didn't care.

He blinked owlishly and squinted, at the reflective glass in his hands.

Was he imagining things?

He just wasn't used to seeing a color other than his own mauve eyes staring back at him and for a moment, he thought that nothing had changed but the red rings around his eyes.

But he was mistaken.

They had changed.

They were now grey. A dusky, smoky color.

The color shifted and changed with the light, like a multitude of restless colored spirits in an orb of glass.

And he realized that these new eyes reminded him of someone else's eyes.

Someone he knew...

Someone he loved...

They reminded him of...

Ken's eyes when he laughed.

And then he knew.

Ken had not left him. He had kept his promise like he always did.

19.

They said he had driven his bike over a bridge. He had worn his helmet to protect his head and he had driven off roaring over an interstate highway.

He had to make it look like an accident after all, so that his death wouldn't be investigated on, so that his body could be claimed right after by Kritiker operatives posing as his... 'someones'.

A lot of people had seen him speeding through the highway like a man hounded by the devil to meet a large eighteen-wheeler truck – and swerve just in time to miss it. His bike roared right up through the metal railings and into the air, it twisted in a moment, to face them.

There was a muted grotesqueness in the way the street lamps and setting sun seemed to spotlight his end like a finale show, making it ever so easy for everyone to watch the spectacle in mute horror.

Witnesses say that they thought the bike stayed suspended in the air for an eternity, framed by the crimson sun. It was strange, they thought, that in that one moment of forever, the man who was facing an inevitable death was clutching a small book in one hand like it was a sacred book.

He had spread his arms as if he was poising for flight, his head tilted towards the sky, with his leather jacket flapping noiselessly behind him. Welcoming death, straining to fly, clinging to life, embracing the scarlet-tinted sunset... nobody knew.

There had been no fear in his eyes, someone close enough to see his face had said, only sadness, regret... and another tender emotion he could not quite describe. His lips were twisted in a small, mourning smile.

Many people had screamed. Many had cried at the senseless death. A few would have nightmares about it for weeks, even months. Many mourned the death they had witnessed of a man they did not know... Oh, if only they realized why... they would surely weep some more.

And then he was gone, plunging into the rocky abyss below where medics would pick up his broken body soon after.

On his wrist was a tag that said many things – but only two that mattered.

One, that his name was Ken Hidaka... and two, that he was a cornea donor.

Many people had seen him die. But nobody heard him whisper the words " I love you Aya..." into the cold autumn air.

When we two parted
In silence and tears,
Half broken-hearted
To sever for years,
Pale grew thy cheek and cold,
Colder thy kiss;
Truly that hour foretold
Sorrow to this

Aya had not forgotten how to weep. With Ken's eyes, he wept for Ken. His life, he owed to Ken; who had given his.

ENDE