Somehow the house he grew up in seemed unfamiliar to him now. It was the same blue door, the same smudged windows, the same quiet street, but the door handled seemed lower than it used to be, and the windows so much smaller. Soubi lingered behind him, trying to mask his anxiety. Something felt off, more so than usual. He didn't say anything to Ritsuka, but there was a spell around this house, an intensely powerful spell that pushed against his chest as he followed the other into the house.

"Mother?" Ritsuka called out hesitantly. He slipped off his shoes out of habit, padding down the hallway quietly. Normally his mother would have come out by now to greet him, to cry and weep and rage, to hold and clench and tear. But there was nothing. And that was worse than anything she had ever done to him during his short life.

Soubi instantly recognized the underlying stench in the decaying air. Death had come to this house, but before he could save his sacrifice, Ritsuka opened the kitchen door. There, in the midst of broken glass and the reek of death, hung Misaki Aoyagi. She turned gruesomely in midair, hanging limply from the rope around her neck.

Ritsuka couldn't do anything but stare, at first. Then he retched, right upon the kitchen floor, reeling in shock. There was no way this could be a dream, for the putrid smell was beyond the stuff of nightmares. The bile burned his throat, falling to his knees as he felt strong, but shaking hands against his back, steadying him. He looked up instinctively, noticing the dark red lettering upon the ceiling above his dead mother's head.

HOW COULD YOU?

"Must've been hours ago," Soubi murmured, gazing at their surroundings for some hint of what had transpired. "We're going, Ritsuka, You shouldn't be here," Soubi said quietly, at a loss for what to do, but trying anyway.

The crusted letters just stared back at Ritsuka accusingly, as he managed a strangled cry, trying to reach out to her. "No, no," Ritsuka fought weakly, trying to get back to the kitchen. "She can't be dead, she can't be dead, I killed her, she's dead-"

"It's not your fault," Soubi said quietly, picking him up easily, holding him against his shoulder, getting up shakily. The objective was to protect him and that meant getting him out of here, before the spell swallowed them both. A spell considered too foul to to spoken by a human being, but in truth needed no words to be cast, only blood. Blood and despair, the very same which was soaked into the walls of the room. But it was waiting. It wouldn't strike right now, because it had a subtle, yet twisted sense of logic. It would maximize the damage by striking when its victim wasn't already in so much pain, and then Soubi realized this spell was laid for Ritsuka, and that terrified him.

"It is, it is my fault, she's dead, like Seimei-" Ritsuka stopped, struck by the realization his brother wasn't dead. But he wasn't the same. So many things didn't fit. Those words on the ceiling, for instance. So many things have been lost. Who did he have left, now that he was unable to protect the one person who lost the most.

Soubi just carried him out the door, clear into the beautiful day that continued with little regard to the shaken boy. Ritsuka buried his head against Soubi's shirt, slightly rough and warm, and an anguished cry of relief tore through his small body. She couldn't hurt him any more, but he couldn't save her either.

--

"Ritsuka. Please eat," Soubi pleaded, hesitantly patting the covers. "You need energy,"

A tired, drawn face emerged, framed by tangled black hair. Soubi's chest ached and his throat burned at the sight of him. But he could not deny his relief that she was gone. And neither could Ritsuka. That was undoubtedly what was tearing the boy apart.

"Soubi, why did she do it?" Ritsuka whispered, feeling small and childish. Of course he knew why- he had abandoned her, and then she had no one left.

"Because she was unwell Ritsuka. It's truly not your fault, and you can't blame yourself for her own problems," Soubi felt awful, saying those words that had as much as truth as he had control over himself. But he was desperate, scrabbling at words, any words that might ease the pain threatening to collapse his sacrifice from within. It was a weak, ineffectual spell that would have earned him severe criticism, but he tried.

Ritsuka closed his eyes, trying to figure out who to blame then. What sort of son was he, to first retch in disgust and then weep in relief? The darkness beneath his thoughts frightened him, and those red words burned against his eyelids.

"I'll go to the exchange alone tonight. You aren't in a condition to go out-"

"No!" Ritsuka protested vehemently. "You're not going to leave me alone," he whispered, clinging to Soubi's shirt tightly.

Soubi stared into those intense yet tired eyes, recognizing the weight pressing down upon that small back, threatening to snap at any second. "I won't," he whispered, resting his head on the bed, the other's thin arm draped over his shoulder.

They had a few hours until the sun sank into the bloody red, and neither of them slept, just holding on to each other and their own thoughts. Soubi emptied his thoughts, mentally preparing himself for the night to come, and Ritsuka watched dusk fall behind the silhouette of Soubi's hair, unable to shake the distinct feeling that somehow, this was only the beginning.