Geez, I don't know why I always write angst for Rikuo and Tsurara, because seriously, I LOVE them. But then all I could thing about their relationship is bittersweet love, so yeah... This crappy fic was born! I put Yura and Ryuuji because they're actually my favorite couple in this manga. Screw incest! They're both awesome, mwahahahaha! *is shot*

Warning: Character's deaths, implied sexual scene, incest. Don't say I didn't warn you! And no hating either dudes.

anyway, before I forget...

*Standard disclaimer applied here*

and now, I hope you enjoy the story!

After some time goes by, a human being will learn to cure their old wounds and pain. The truth, for instance, is not as merciful as a mother is to her child― sometimes it hurts so much that no human body or soul can handle such predicament, resulting in people warping their reality to ease their pain. Rikuo knew that Tsurara had gone from his life (he refused to say the word "died"), and that she would never come back to him, and.. And..

And it hurts. It hurts him when he woke up in the morning and saw a flash of her shadow brimming at him with that stunning smile while asking what would he want for breakfast. Or when he would unconsciously called her name when he was about to go home from school and managed to caught himself before the second syllable escaped from his lips. Even though he laughed, chatted, joked,or smiled with his friends at school, and kept on protecting the peace and stability in the youkai world, and ate shaved ice periodically every week to remember her (because remembering her was a good thing), part of his mind still bleed for the absent of his other half, asking why this had to happen to him and not someone else.

His father might understand, for his lover was also torn from him by the cruelty of fate, but then his father was not here to comfort him, and he never felt truly alone up until to this moment. No friends from his school could relate to him, and he stopped letting them to even try. He should not remember about love, for it was no longer existed in his world. And it fucking hurt when he realized he forgot what was her laughter sounded like, or what was her favorite food. Human memories weren't meant to last forever after all.

And that was the time when Yura became his anchor; she was his savior.

"R-Rikuo-kun, please.."

He knew she was using him just like he was using her. And then hated herself for using him, because Yura was just that nice.

Sheets rustling as they touched, and savored and tasted each other. The room was quiet, except for some exceptional gasps and moans of pleasure that destroyed the silence once in a while. He nibbled the soft flesh where her pulse reverberated, earning him a few more stifled moan from the raven haired beauty.

He knew this was wrong. Awfully wrong. But it lessen his pain. And he knew it also lessen her pain as well. So does it matter much..?

No.

And of course they get even closer with each other as their secret routine continued. He came to learn that she liked it if he was gentle with her in their love-making, and she came to learn that his ears were his weak-spot and so on. They relationship came naturally, actually; they had all saw it coming. Nevertheless, Kubinashi and Kejourou were worried anyway.

Everyone was worried. And he didn't see why they did. It was Yura after all, and Yura was a good girl.

But deep in his mind, he too, questioned if this was a good idea or not.

She knew he was using her, and she didn't mind. Neither did he. They knew that even if time was to rewind itself, Tsurara would still die from protecting Rikuo, and Ryuuji would still die from his mission. Nothing would change.

Yura was nothing like Tsurara. Rikuo was nothing like Ryuuji. That was fine for both of them, and so their benefiting relation continued.

But now, as they passionately making out on her futon, his and her mind were both still in a turmoil.

Tsurara's hair was longer, Ryuuji was more well-built and rough. Tsurara's skin was cold, Ryuuji's voice was supposed to be lower.

But if they simply closed their eyes, they could pretend. Because Yura's skin was as soft as hers, and Rikuo had the same tan as Ryuuji. Because Yura is a female, and Rikuo is male, and that they could both quench their thirst for love for each other. For they both had been abandoned by their own respective lovers because of the tight clutches of death, and they both knew just how to make each of their pain gone in the precisely right places and ways.

He often shouted the wrong name when he released, and so did she. They both didn't mind anyway, for they had already succumbed to the bliss of lust. And they both understand each other's situations perfectly, they were just using each other's body to feel loved, easing the loneliness that their lover had left behind for them.

In the morning, he was always left alone in the already cold sheets, the only reminder of last night's activity was the lingering scent of lavender on his pillows and the note on his bedside lamp that said thank you in a neat handwriting. Yura had left, and Rikuo felt the guilt starting to creep into the corner of his mind.

Yura was not Tsurara. Rikuo was not Ryuuji. They were just using each other.

And yet they wouldn't have it in any other way.