But Not Today
Yosuke
PG-13
Drama/Romance

AN: I praise CLAMP like they're the freakin' goddesses of some high holy heavens, and I promised myself I'd never tarnish their work through fanart or fictions... Sadly, I have tread onto KuroxFai and YaxAshu fanart territory, and now... a fanfiction for YaxAshu is complete. For this, I send my deepest apologies to CLAMP and pray that I don't screw this up. Yasha-ou and Ashura-ou are probably a fav couple of mine, and their relationship is so beautiful. So if I fail at this, I'm probably gonna hang myself. I CAN DO IT! I CAN DO IT!

... but prepare the noose just in case.

I haven't actually watched the anime on Tsubasa. Not because I'm lazy, but because I don't think the anime is anywhere close to doing the manga justice. The anime is pretty bad, in my opinion, so I haven't taken the time to go watch the Shura/Shara countries' episodes. I'm taking what I know from the manga.

As a note: I'm not entirely sure what the proper spelling is to their names. In the American manga, it's written as "Ashura-­­­O" with the little mark over the O (not really sure how to type that myself). But when translated from Japanese, people can either read it as "Oh" or "Ou". I have yet to read any YaxAshu fanfics, so I don't know the popular way to type it. I'll just go with "Ou" because it's closer to the Japanese translation. If any of you feel any different, lemme know.

ONE MORE NOTE: In the American manga, the back reference pages noted that Ashura-Ou's gender is unknown. Give it up: We all know he's a guy, so I shall be typing him as such.

Tsubasa not mine.

Mokona rules you all.

He had not picked up his sword since... He couldn't bring himself to. It felt too heavy, too dirty. The handle felt like it were piercing splinters into his hand. The sheath alone could not hide the blood on it. It was only a little blood, yes, but his blood nonetheless. It made him sick just thinking about it. He'd hurt him... Why it had happened... he knew. He knew why Yasha-ou hadn't managed to dodge that strike. He had seen it clearly. He still saw it then, in his head, the haunting image of Yasha-ou shaking with fatigue, something he'd rarely done. His chest heaving, his arms struggling just to hold his sword and the reins with the suddenly strenuous feat of multi-tasking, and the blood soaking into his eye... Ashura-ou had hurt Yasha-ou, something they strived to accomplish each night but in their hearts did everything to resist. One hand would hold a sword while the other would reach pathetically for the other person. What a trifling situation. And now Yasha-ou was ill. He was very sick. He had a disease, something even the strongest man couldn't resist. Yasha-ou would eventually give in... He'd probably been sick for a long while yet refused to tell Ashura-ou. That made him very frustrated. Ashura-ou clutched at the draperies decorating the veranda of his home. Feeling the cloth strain in his hand as it pulled uselessly at it in his anger, he attempted to vent by causing some manner of damage to his beautiful surroundings. He ripped the drapery out, sending many feet of long, silky cloth to pool onto the marble floor. Ashura-ou stared at it, then grunted and walked away from it. He'd have a servant fix it in the morning. This table, too. He pushed it over, causing it's contents, a few candles and a decorative centerpiece, to go crashing to the floor. And this chair... and this chair... and this drapery... and this rather large birdbath... All of it he hurled to the floor, causing a loud commotion as he let his head fall back, his mouth open, and a cry of agony escape. As expected, seconds later, about ten guards came rushing in, weapons at the ready, but the king merely shooed them away as he leaned into a pillar, staring hopelessly at the ground and praying to someone... anyone that could hear him... that this mess be resolved. Why hadn't Yasha-ou told him? Why did he let himself get injured? Why had he gone into battle when he was ill? Just to meet Ashura-ou again? What point was there to that??

... Ashura-ou sighed and clung to the pillar desperately, something in him wishing that said pillar were actually Yasha-ou, whom had arms to return around him. He closed his eyes. How wonderful that would be... but Ashura-ou deserved nothing of the like. To be so reckless and immature... His gaze swept across the veranda and the damage left in his wake. He felt sad. Children threw temper tantrums, not adult rulers. He moved slowly to the table he'd knocked over and put it upright, collecting the candles and carefully putting them back in place. Then the centerpiece. Next the chairs... Normally, he'd have left the mess for his servants, but if they found out this mess with only one person behind it, and that person being their commander... then how would Ashura-ou seem to them? The spoiled king, that's how. He was ashamed. He'd probably never live this down. How long had it been since he'd thrown a tantrum? Years and years... not since he was child. His head lifted, eyes searching the dark skies. 'Perhaps I am still but a child...' His shoulders drooped. 'A love-struck one, at that...'

When the birdbath was put back up, he turned to the draperies and thought for a moment. "I cannot hide that... I have no means to fix it myself..." Ashura-ou sighed. "I'll think of something when morning comes..."

A wind began to blow. He visibly shivered, drawing his shawl about him tighter and facing the breeze. His hair swung lightly, some strands flowing in front of his face, yet he ignored them. Something was wrong... He felt energy... There was a presence nearby, and not one of his nation. He darted around, thoughts turning to a decorative sword he kept mounted on the wall with a few others, but stopped as he almost crashed into someone. His black eyes slowly lifted, searching for the face. Black eyes met him back. Ashura-ou felt his strength drain from him and a strangled cry broke its way free.

"Yasha-ou..."

The opposing king stood before him, his eyes watching him distantly, his frame not moving in the least as the breeze slowly died to nothing. His long black hair fell around his figure as he stared sadly at the other, not moving even as Ashura-ou began to tremble.

"Yasha-ou... You're here... But how? You cannot leave your city--" He was silenced when two strong hands took him by the arms and gently pulled him forward. Ashura-ou's head fell back as he leaned up, eyes closing halfway lazily, unsure of the situation but not really caring. His hands pressed to the man's chest and gripped the cloth tightly as if fearing he would fade from his grasp. Perhaps he wasn't real at all... Was this an illusion? Was this truly happening? Could Ashura-ou's whispered wishes be coming to life?

Yasha-ou kissed him, long and delicate... and cold. Ashura-ou's eyes closed, but only in sorrow as he felt what was really the truth settle into his mind. This wasn't Yasha-ou... His hands and lips were cold. He wasn't even giving off any kind of aura. This was not his Yasha-ou. This was not the king.

Fingers digging roughly into the fabric of his robe, Ashura-ou pulled away from the tender kiss and buried his face into the man's chest. Sobs threatened to destroy his body's composure. Arms encircled his shoulders, pulling him tightly to the strong body before him. But it wasn't even strong anymore, was it?

Yasha-ou was dead. And this was just his corpse.

The clothes still smelled like him... It was wonderful, captivating... but the presence of the empty body holding him arrested those thoughts. He felt pain in every inch of his body. His heart ached terribly. Yasha-ou had died. His love, his beautiful, strong savior, his everything dear to him that kept him alive and full of hopes... was gone. The man before him wasn't the real Yasha-ou. His corpse was only animated by some unknown force. Some alien power... inside of him? The hands pawing at his chest could feel it. A certain warmth radiated from over his still heart. But the rest of his body was cold and stiff. Even his long hair seemed somewhat withered. And the scar over his damaged eye... was no longer attempting to heal itself. The blood had stopped flowing in his body. He was now just an empty shell without a soul, without an owner. And for some reason, this thing had bothered to come see Ashura-ou. How pitiful...

Ashura-ou's eyes held grief, though he hid his pain as best he could as he stepped out of the welcoming embrace and clear out of Yasha-ou's reach. The silky shawl about his arms dropped to the floor. "So... when did you pass on, Yasha-ou?" Black eyes looked up, anger masking his sorrow poorly. But it made no difference; the man staring back at him had no power to read his innermost thoughts as he once could. There was nothing behind that gaze, only vacancy. And it was just this look that broke Ashura-ou. His hands formed fists as he held back the urge to scream, knowing guards would once again rush in, and if they found Yasha-ou there, it would be troublesome. He bit his lip, fighting the oncoming tears. "You never told me... you were ill. I had to find out by myself... Do you know how hard that was?" He clutched at his own arms, shivering. "Why couldn't you tell me? I'd have... I'd have held off the battle for a night, just to come see you... I'd have come to your room, just as you have to mine now, and lain beside you, and... tried to help you feel well again..." Tears soaked through his lashes and streaked down his pale cheeks. "If I could have just been there... maybe it might have not been such a struggle for you... I can offer comfort, you know... You are... a precious person to me... I wanted to be there. I wanted to ease your pain..." With a heartfelt sob, Ashura-ou collapsed to his knees, trembling harder as his voice raised in volumes. "WHY DID YOU DIE??? WHY DID YOU JUST DIE SO SUDDENLY LIKE THAT??? YOU'RE A STRONG WARRIOR!! WARRIORS DO NOT GIVE IN TO SOMETHING AS MEAGER AS A PATHETIC ILLNESS!!! WHAT KIND OF EXAMPLE IS THAT FOR YOUR COMRADES??? WHAT WILL THEY THINK???" He knew he shouldn't have yelled, as it could've caused a disturbance for the ever-ready guards just outside his bedroom walls... but emotions piling atop emotions made it all too much for the young king, and his sobs echoed throughout the veranda. "YOU WERE A KING!!! KINGS ARE STRONG!!! YOU'RE PATHETIC!!! YOU'RE WEAK!!! A WEAK KING WHO GAVE INTO A WEAK DISEASE!!! I'M ASHAMED OF YOU!!! DO YOU HEAR ME???" Ashura-ou's tone raised. When the man gave no response, Ashura-ou hunched forward. "HUH??? DO YOU HEAR ME, YOU IMBECILE??? I'M ASHAMED!!! ASHAMED!!!" Hardly able to breathe, his head fell forward as he slammed his normally-gentle fist into the ground, unable to process the pain it caused. This was all too much... Quite honestly, Ashura-ou could not see himself alive after that night. Not only angry at Yasha-ou but himself as well, the back of his mind returned to his Shura sword and vaguely pictured the beautiful metal separating a vital vein or two. No, it should pierce his heart, where all the damage was taking place. If he killed the source of the pain, maybe he could rest in peace...

His fist met the ground again, slamming hard into the cold marble. He continued this action for a while until blood began to spill from the side of a damaged knuckle. He cared not. He only wept, doing everything in his power just to hit the floor instead of the man he loved, the dead thing standing before him. It was after a few more collisions that Ashura-ou felt the man move. His shadow shifted to cover him. Next, a hand flew out to catch his wounded one. Ashura-ou felt the cold fingers wrap around his wrist and he bit back a sob.

"Stop it! Get away from me! Don't touch me!" He attempted to pull his arm away, but the stronger hand held him. Soon, Yasha-ou was kneeling before him, one hand still wrapped carefully around the slim wrist and the other hand moving to grip lightly at the back of the smaller man's neck, rubbing, attempting to soothe him. Long black hair brushed over his fingers as he coaxed Ashura-ou into a calmer state. Ashura-ou cried. Yasha-ou used to do this... To feel those large hands on him, soothing him, comforting him, made up for any pain he could ever feel, and Ashura-ou crumbled in his grasp. He calmed, letting Yasha-ou hold his arm gently while the soothing hand on his neck carefully worked its way over a shivering shoulder, petting him like some domesticated cat. Without the shawl, his arms to his neck were bare. He shook. Even though they were enemies, Yasha-ou always knew... how to soothe him best.

As Ashura-ou's tears began to dwindle, Yasha-ou lifted the shaking arm to his face. His lips pressed to the damaged knuckle, kissing away the blood. Ashura-ou could feel it, and mentally sighed. Yasha-ou always knew what to do... always knew what Ashura-ou needed right then to feel just a little bit better.

After a long moment, one where Ashura-ou did not move and Yasha-ou could only mindlessly kiss his hurt hand, the smaller man finally chuckled and sat back a little, drawing his hand out of the stronger grip. "It is alright... I am sorry." His dark eyes seemed truly apologetic, though this fact went unknown the corpse. "I was angry... and taking it out on you. Please forgive me..." Once again, he found himself choking back sobs. His heart hurt so badly. "I just wanted to be there... You must have been in so much pain, and I could do nothing for you... Please, please forgive me..." His slim fingers outstretched towards the pale face just a little ways from him. When he met the chilled flesh, he held back a grimace. "You were never this cold before..." After a while, Ashura-ou's eyes held some dark mirth in them. "But then again, this isn't really you, is it? You're not Yasha-ou... Just his corpse. Just an nonliving thing... Tell me, where is my Yasha-ou? Where has his soul gone to? The heavens?" His fingers stroked delicately over the disfiguring scar on his face. "Who's watching over him now? Surely... no gods shall want him. Not after what we've been through... Did they send him to some fiery eternity? Is he in even more pain now?" Next his lips. "Where is Yasha-ou? Tell me, you empty imposter."

When the body gave no response, Ashura-ou clenched and pushed Yasha-ou away from him, which barely moved the stronger man but caused Ashura-ou to tumble to the ground. Frustrated and embarrassed, he stood and began to storm away, his long robes and sashes and dark hair flowing around him as his hips beckoned them to do. His Shura sword was lying on the floor in his bedchamber... He remembered throwing it on the ground after the battle that led to Yasha-ou's injured eye. If he could get his sword and plunge it into that... that... disgusting carcass... then perhaps Yasha-ou could rest peacefully.

He was quick in his movements, rushing to his room and retrieving the bloodstained sword. It felt somewhat heavy in his hands for some reason. He cringed. 'Heavy with the blood of the man I called "Beloved",' he thought, but as he turned to face Yasha-ou once more, he found the man's silhouette against the moonlight and dark skies, lingering on the threshold between the bedchamber and the veranda. Dark eyes pierced him, sending nothing but empty thoughts to the slim frame now trembling with doubt. Yasha-ou's body deserved to be laid to rest. Ashura-ou swallowed. His mouth was dry, however. He should do it, he knew. He should honor Yasha-ou's deceased body by allowing him to rest, but something stopped him. How Yasha-ou stared at him with such intensity, albeit lifeless... What was this cold chill rushing through his body? Why was he hesitating? Was he afraid? Why? Why couldn't he do it?

His arms raised above his head, heaving the large sword and pointing it towards the man. Yasha-ou remained still for a moment before finally approaching his lover, taking one slow step at a time. He now stood only a few inches from the smaller man. Ashura-ou's arms trembled with the weight of both the sword and the duty suddenly placed upon his small shoulders. Tears once more soaked into his eyes. After all the fighting, the battles, the trips to the moon... it was finally time to destroy Yasha-ou...

But...

... He just couldn't do it.

Sobbing for both his ruthlessness and weakness, his eyes closed as he lowered the sword back down, dropping it between them on the floor, then lifting his hands to cover his embarrassed face. "Yasha-ou..."

Hands touched his bare shoulders. He didn't look up. The man took him into his arms and held him gently, stroking his hair, rocking him slowly. Ashura-ou felt like he were weightless... This man was so strong and caring... Even when his life was expired, he still showed the same intense care for the younger man as if his heart were still beating solely for his lover.

Ashura-ou looked up, finding Yasha-ou's eyes watching him absently. He fought back a sob. "You'll hold a weak creature like me?"

Yasha-ou kissed his forehead. Ashura-ou closed his eyes.

"You were always a fool... You are ever the fool..." Swiping away an escaping tear, shame showed in his dark eyes, a blush lining his cheeks. "Will you make love to this weak creature?"

This time, a kiss on his lips.

"Now I truly wonder who the fool is..."

Their robes and sashes and any armor lay strewn across the floor, glittering with the reflections of moonlight, leading a glowing path to the large bed centered in the room. The canopy and drapes had been disrupted, flowing down then dropping into a mess at the floor, poorly hiding the two figures in the bed. The sheets rustled; Some were part-way pulled from the mattress from the slow movements taking place. One slim hand grasped at the sheets in desperation, holding them in a strong grip and pulling, then loosening its grip and altogether fading.

A moment later, a black veil of long, long hair lifted. Ashura-ou sat up from his position and arched himself over Yasha-ou's unmoving body on the sheets. He stared silently down at his lover, unable to think of nothing but his sorrow and shame. Yasha-ou's burning gaze intensified, causing the smaller man to feel embarrassed, though for what reason he wasn't quite sure. Ashura-ou blushed and turned his head away. Fingers tangled in his long hair. He peeked out of the corner of his eye down at Yasha-ou. The man's hand held a grip on the absurdly long locks, twisting his fingers through it, playing with it, then bringing it to his face and kissing it. Ashura-ou felt his sadness deepen, and his longing intensify. Yasha-ou saw the gaze the other held for him, and sat up, his face inches from Ashura-ou's. The smaller man hid his eyes by ducking his head, watching his long, black hair float down into his lap. Lips touched the top of his head. Ashura-ou shivered and looked back up. The scar over the man's eye suddenly seemed so much more defined. He shivered again and touched the poor eye, unable to bring himself to remember that he was the reason that Yasha-ou's face was impaired, and that he'd be scarred for the rest of his life... or what had been left of it. He leaned in and kissed the withered flesh, lightly holding the man's face. Yasha-ou's eyes closed. At their sudden closeness, Ashura-ou, for the first time that night, realized the other man wasn't even breathing. He felt his heart weep. He kissed him, full and long, waiting for a response. Arms loosely wrapped about his back, pulling him closer. Ashura-ou shifted so that he sat on the man's legs, now somewhat higher than him. His forehead touched to Yasha-ou's, staring at the sad face, brushing his thumbs over his cheekbones.

"Yasha-ou... Are you even awake?"

No response.

"Can you even feel me?"

Large hands scaled his back, falling back down to rest at his waist. Ashura-ou shook his head.

"That's not what I mean... You... You're not alive... How can you feel anything now? This whole body is dead..." He could slowly feel his frustration building again. There was a pain in his throat as he fought a grimace. Choking on a sob, he put his hands on Yasha-ou's chest, dug his nails into the dead skin, and scratched as hard as he could. Flesh broke under his claws, splitting, revealing more flesh beneath. Ashura-ou sobbed and watched. Nothing. No blood. Ashura-ou felt pain twist in his chest as he grew angry and pushed Yasha-ou back down to the bed. Now straddling his waist, he pressed his palms into the cold skin of Yasha-ou's chest and watched silently as the blood slowly began to ooze out, falling in tiny streams down the sides of his torso. Yasha-ou only stared silently at him, unmoving. Ashura-ou let out a cry of despair. "You fool!" He pulled his hands away, covering his face. "You don't bleed! Physical injuries no longer harm you! There is no blood for your body to weep!" The man cried. "You are dead... You do not belong in this world anymore... I... I had to force the blood from your body... That's unnatural. You do not feel pain..." Ashura-ou drew in on himself. "... You did not even... feel any pleasure..."

There was neither shame nor pride in Yasha-ou's face.

"No pain, no pleasure, no breaths, no life whatsoever... I cannot bear this..." His body shook. He held his arms around himself as if consoling for the loss of other living arms to hold him instead. How despicable... The only reason the body beneath him held any warmth to it now was because of Ashura-ou's own body heat from being held to Yasha-ou so much. Ashura-ou's heart felt so heavy. Why didn't Yasha-ou hold him then? He was obviously in pain... Why was he not even saying anything? He'd not made a sound all night...

Palms swept up his sides, cradling his slim chest as it shook with heavy breaths. Ashura-ou looked down at Yasha-ou. The man's face held the same look of incurable sadness. And that scar... It was such a horrible blemish on his handsome face. Ashura-ou touched it gently.

"Yasha-ou... If you feel nothing... then why does your face bear such a look of grief? What is it that could possibly make your empty self feel sadness?" When the other man didn't answer right away, Ashura-ou scoffed to himself. "Of course, foolish me... What other expression may a corpse wear? You never held peace in your eyes... Why when you sleep? Sadness was always etched into your heart. Even I should have remembered that..." But the younger man's momentary mirth was poorly shown. Sorrow quickly resurfaced. "I wish I could know what it was that grieved you so..."

"...Ashura-ou..."

Ashura-ou's eyes widened, temporarily forgetting to breathe as he stared wordlessly down at Yasha-ou.

"...I was sad... to leave..."

Tears brimmed of their own accord. He neither blinked nor moved. Yasha-ou... was speaking to him...

"I could not bear... to leave yet..."

"W-What do you mean?" Ashura-ou stuttered, afraid to even budge an inch.

"When I fell ill... I knew that it would mean I'd be leaving you behind... But under such terms as we were... I could only feel sorrow for it." Yasha-ou's eyes closed for a moment as if attempting to calm himself so that he might take in the truth. Then they slowly opened again, staring directly into Ashura-ou's unmoving gaze. "Each moment was horrible... because each moment, I thought of you and how I'd be leaving behind something so precious... I yearned to have you near me every waking moment, but no such reward was for me. I could not leave my home, and I remained silent up until my death." Yasha-ou's hands lifted to hold Ashura-ou's face, one placed on a cheek while the other gradually fell to stroke his neck. Ashura-ou's eyes closed, taking in the feel of Yasha-ou's hands on him.

"But... you are dead... How is it that you look as if you are mourning?" The sadness in his heart grew. His dark eyes opened to stare back down at the other king.

"Because, when I fell to death, the last thing I saw in that moment was the dark ceiling of my bedchambers..." His black eyes housed deep pain. "I would not want to slip into an unlit eternity if you were not the last thing my eyes had seen... I wanted you to be there... I did not care if you saw me as a weak man unable to bring myself even from my own bed... I wanted you there... I wanted to see you. Then, maybe, I would not have had to feel such pain. I look sad because I died sad."

Yasha-ou suddenly changed then... In Ashura-ou's vision, he was no longer the pathetic, decaying corpse of his beloved. He wanted to call him an "angel", with his otherworldly handsomeness, his perfect motionless, and that brutally intense gaze his dark eyes held... but to call him a "demon" seemed just as befitting... Perhaps he was neither, or both. This man's arms that held him so carefully as if he were the most fragile creature in existence had also sought to destroy him. Those arms would hold both his warm body and his cold corpse, had he won the war.

Ashura-ou felt ashamed. 'If Yasha-ou could do that for me... can I not return the favor?'

He fell against him then, his slim body gently laying on the taller man, head resting weakly on his chest. He could feel hands gathering his black hair, stroking his back for stay pieces again and again until he brushed it all to the side, carefully pulling it away so that Ashura-ou's small shoulders and back were fully exposed to the chilly night air (as either of them had failed to close the doors to the outside veranda). Ashura-ou shivered and curled against him tighter.

"Yasha-ou... Why is it you only speak now? Why not earlier?"

"My words were never ones to heal... In all our time, my arms have done a better job at ceasing your tears than the things I say ever could. I felt tonight I could not take a chance at making you feel any worse."

"What a horrible reason..."

Those large, cold hands then began to stroke his back, almost lovingly, Ashura-ou thought. Yasha-ou cradled him as he always had, with all the tenderness a man like him would every allow himself to be shown having. Yasha-ou cared so deeply for Ashura-ou... He loved him... That's why...

Ashura-ou lifted his head again, aching when he once again saw Yasha-ou's sad complexion. Yasha-ou looked sad now because he had been sad in his moment of death... He cared for Ashura-ou. That's why he wanted him there when he had passed on. The guilt in his heart was very heavy. Ashura-ou wished to weep again, but found no strength to even do that. Forcing out a smile, he pushed himself forward a little so that he could reach the other man's face, and he kissed him lightly on his mouth. "Yasha-ou," he began. "I am at fault for your grief, I know. I am... I am so sorry..." He kissed him again. "If only I'd known... I'd have gone to you... I love you." Tears once again threatened to spill over, but he willed himself to hold it in. There was a slight hitch in his voice. "If only I could bring you back... I will do everything in my power to reunite myself with you... I would do anything... I want to be with you again, Yasha-ou." His hands lifted to hold Yasha-ou's face, a thumb stroking carefully down the unhealed scar over the right side of his face. "But for now... you must be put to rest so that I may properly join you... I will kill this body, Yasha-ou. I will kill you. Everything will be put to an end, I promise. But not today. Not today. The sun will rise soon, so you must leave, and when I can bring myself to once again lift that dirtied Shura sword, I will kill you." He once more kissed him. "But not today.

The sun had risen. A slight breeze swept the curtains in the room this way and that. The canopy of the bed fluttered, revealing the lonely figure in the now cold bed. Ashura-ou lay on his stomach, bare, the sheets clutching around him tightly. He could hear people approaching. His servants would be in soon to rouse him.

Yasha-ou had left.

He looked to where Yasha-ou had lain just moments before. His Yasha-ou... His arm moved lazily to extend over that portion of the bedding as if he could wrap it around the man.

"Do not return here, Yasha-ou," Ashura-ou whispered quietly. "For I fear I may need you more... Do not spoil me as you have in the past. I will come to you, and when I do, you will finally close your eyes forever."

Ashura-ou shut his eyes at the thought. There was a light tapping at his doors. Servants called into him before slowly opening the doors and walking in. Ashura-ou had no strength to lift himself up... He'd had no sleep, and their lovemaking had taken quite a bit of energy from him. Instead, he cried. Clutching the sheets that still smelled like Yasha-ou, he gathered them to his face and wept into them. Never had he allowed anyone to see him so weak... other than Yasha-ou... He knew it was risky exposing his heart as he was, and to servants at that, but at that moment, he didn't care. He could be strong anytime. He could stand straight and bear a smile to anyone. He could easily hold back tears and continue to fight...

...But not today.

Ze end.
AN: (trembles in fear) God, I hope this is okay... I love those two so much... If I butchered them in this story, I may kill myself. Where's that noose...? Oh, boy... Please, despite my current shriveled state of despair and worry... be honest. Tell me if this was worth it or not.

I noticed, after rereading it, that I ended up repeating a few of the same words over and over again. I didn't mean to... I just liked those words. If you saw that and found it annoying, lemme know. I'll try to prevent it from happening again.

Every time you don't review, Light Yagami writes down an uke's name. Save the uke. Review a story. (medical team rushes by with Mytho on a stretcher) Please.