My precious, gentle-hearted Itsuki.

His white fingers are tightly wrapped around each other, his thin frame shivering with not a bit of fear. His arms lay wound across his legs, his down-turned face pressing into his knees. He doesn't dare look up at me.

I sit demurely in front of him, legs folded under me, my hands resting on my lap. We sit facing each other, as we have for the past few hours. The airless, acrid afternoon has descended into a quiet evening, resonating with the events to come tomorrow.

The plan, our sacrifice, is to happen tomorrow. At midnight, the clanging of staffs against the beaten floor will sound out against the solemn prayers. His hands will push against my throat and deprive me of air. I only hope for a speedy death, and to spare my darling brother the agony of killing a brother who does not want to die.

Either way, we both lose. But nobody wins either.

I first proposed this plan to him weeks ago, when we got wind of an impending Kurosawa ritual. Our hearts were gentle towards the innocent Kurosawa twins. Itsuki and Sae are good friends; I suspect the child has a bit of a crush on my brother. It was more than pure altruism. Till now I still don't have a good reason why I'm saving the Kurosawa twins from an early, if inevitable death. I do not know why I volunteered for this tragic duty. I do not wish to bring my darling brother the pain of living alone, but I will do what I must do.

My time is up. I am but merely a wheel in this giant clockwork of stopping the malice from pouring out of the abyss. This is my duty. I do not see a point in prolonging the wait.

Itsuki didn't take it very well, at first. He couldn't understand what I meant by it. He wanted us to run, like he wanted the Kurosawa twins to run. I remember frowning in confusion at what he said. Run? That is not possible. One cannot run from fate.

Itsuki had begged and pleaded with me. I had steadfastly told him, that I wanted to be one with him.

He had a gentle nature, my brother. His smile came readily and his existence seemed gregarious. Always overshadowing me, but that is what made me love him. Itsuki seemed so bright, so beautiful, I felt lucky to be born as his twin.

The air is thin, the outside cool. The evening has begun its dark descent into the night. The skies light up in a blue hue under the distant moon. The flickering candle flame casts shadows across the walls and the tatami floor.

"Itsuki." I call him, as gently as possible. "It's time to rest."

He looks up, face weary and eyes large and terrified. He doesn't speak.

My hand covers his. His fingers lace themselves against mine.

"I don't want to rest. I want to stay like this forever." He is on the verge of tears. "I want to see you sitting like this forever. I cannot do it."

I have faith in him. I have absolute faith that we both have the power to prevent the malice from coming. I will become a crimson butterfly, and my soul will be one with Itsuki.

I don't try to refute what Itsuki is telling himself. Instead, I pull myself up closer to him. The distance that was pulled between the both of us through the long, thick red sash is closed. As my hands reach for him, he falls onto me, clinging and embracing and holding. I'm not sure who's comforting whom anymore.

My darling Itsuki, my beautiful brother. I am not afraid of dying because you will be right beside me. Even if I will venture the afterlife alone, but you will be with me, with your hands on me, as I begin the perilous last journey.

Itsuki cries softly. I know that he does not want to make a fuss; he knows that my frame of mind is more frantic than his is. This is my last night. Before the night is over tomorrow, I will be a butterfly. My brother cries himself to sleep. Soon later, my eyes close, with him sleeping fitfully in my arms.

In the morning, I give Chitose a very last hug. She clings to me, unknowing, her eyes big and terrified. She does not know what will happen, but she can sense it. To prevent too much of an attachment, Chitose is soon removed from out sight.

We begin the solemn walk towards the ritual chamber. Through rooms, we walk with our bare feet. Across rough, uneven floors, worn walls that I would never see again. Door past door past door, and the final descent through the cave and into the chamber. The arch seemed like it was welcoming me, as we approached it.

We were given a few moments together. Our last, very precious moments together.

There were no words that were needed. Only the entwining of our hands, Itsuki's grip hard on mine – that was enough.

The white-clad priests came in again, their staffs beating a frantic tattoo against the ground. We were escorted all the way down – to my place of my death. I lay down on the slab of stone. I no longer have any hesitations. Fate has finally caught up to me.

Itsuki's cold, cold shivering hands come around my neck. I lift my head slightly, and turn to press a kiss to his wrist. I commit the beautiful image of my brother to my mind. Then I close my eyes. I do not want Itsuki to see death in them. Moments have passed. The noise is immense. Clanging and banging sounds are in my ear, and the tension and impatience forms a thick air around us.

The moment I feel the pressure on my neck, all the noise dies away.

Warm tears fall on my face. It comes unrelentingly, and carries all his guilt, fear, and forgiveness for my impudent demand to die. He presses and presses. I refuse to open my eyes.

The pressure increases. My body starts to revolt against the loss of air. For a moment there his grip eases. No! This sacrifice will be a success, I will make sure of it. My hands fly to cover his hands, pressing them further around my throat. I press and press and press, until my grip loosens and those white, slim fingers are still strangling me. His tears are falling fast on my face. The anguished sound of a wounded animal emerges from his throat and into a deep lamenting sob. My body is in full revolt.

Darkness is taking over my mind. I really do love you, Itsuki. Please forgive me.

The last thing I hear is the sad melancholy of Itsuki's weeping.