It was as though water had filled his ears, making it impossible to hear through a murky depth. Yes, Yukio Okumura was certain he was drowning as he stood facing his brother. He couldn't catch his breath, it came in short bursts though his lungs desired more. His chest clenched and strained, needing more. He needed more. More time. More bullets. Yukio's finger twitched violently, pressing down on the trigger of his pistol over and over, even after the last loud bang had disappeared from the air and only a faint clicking reached his ears.

Rin Okumura was full of bleeding holes now. Two in his right shoulder, one through his gut, another split his collarbone, and a final one through his heart. Still he continued forward, encroaching on his brother. He grasped Yukio's hand, a sly smile on his face, and brought it backwards with a frightening snap. The pistol fell from Yukio's hand as it dangled at an unnatural angle and all sound came surging back. Fire roared all around him and Satan, in his brother's body, leaned in.

"You really are your father's son." It was a deep voice with a whisper of his brother's caught in the mix. Yukio stared ahead over Rin's shoulder. He was done searching for hope where the was none. He could barely feel the pain of his broken wrist. Whatever came next, he was ready for it. More than anything, he wanted it. Yukio Okumura closed his eyes and waited for his death.

Shiemi Moriyama gasped as her eyes fluttered open. The back of her head was bruised and bleeding from impact and as she sat up it took a while for the world to stop spinning around her. The last thing she remembered was the blue sky and then a blast of energy knocking the breath out of her. She was halfway across the courtyard from where she'd been standing.

"Shura?" Shiemi spotted Izumo near the tree, her body trashed and ragdolled limply agains the trunk. Standing proved far too difficult for her, so she crawled to her friend. Her knees and palms were bleeding by the time she reached Izumo.

"Izumo-san, please, please be alive. You can't be dead. You have to be alive." Shiemi grabbed ahold of Izumo and rolled her over. Her eyes were open, her mouth quivering. Shiemi was hit doubly, relieved that her friend was alive but terrified she was crying so easily.

"Shiemi, it's the end of the world. Please just call me Kamiki." Izumo lifted herself up and Shiemi caught her in a desperate embrace, the two of them holding their breath, fearing that if they let it go then the moment would end and the end would begin.

Ryuji Suguro's heart was broken, his spirit dwindling. He lay on the ground, staring up at the darkening sky. The memories that had kept him alive inside were fleeting, becoming fuzzy imprints on the back of his mind and nothing more. He tried to picture fireworks crashing overhead, sitting with his friends and family at a summer festival. Ryuji closed his eyes and focused on faces. Miwa, with his lumpy head and glasses, shy and awkward, dead and buried deep in the ground. Blaming Ryuji—Bon—for his death. His eyes shot open and Ryuji sat upright. He had been blasted back aways from the courtyard, through the demolished wall, and luckily enough hadn't sustained any major injuries. If anything, he was just a little sore.

"Just my luck." His lip curled in anger and he slammed his fist against the ground. "Just my fucking luck!"

It was impossible to think that he somehow deserved to survive until the end. Not when he'd failed everyone so miserably. His whole life Ryuji had tried to be the leader he knew he was meant to be, the Bocchan everyone asked him to be. Kyoto had burned. Friends had died. His father was gone. None of his accomplishments meant anything to them, or to those who were still alive even now, because what could he do for them? Keep hope alive? Not when he lacked hope himself. Miracles didn't happen in the real world.

Shura Kirigakure was dying and it was embarrassing. She was crying and gasping for air but she told herself it wasn't the pain convulsing through her body, but rather the shame that brought tears to her eyes. It had to be. The blast of energy had sent her and everyone flying through the air and she'd gotten the worst of it, she was certain. Perhaps it was for the best. She wouldn't have been able to bring herself to kill either Yukio or Rin when it came down to it. There had been nights where she'd dreamed about it and thought about how easy she could make it. Killing wasn't in her nature, no matter how good she was at it. Not people, at least. Never friends.

Blood, her blood, glistened along the metal rod that had been driven through her stomach. Impaling had never been on the list of ways she thought she'd go. People never really got impaled in battle. Slashed, stabbed, burned, any number of ways. She laughed at the ridiculousness of it, blood splashing from her mouth. And then she started coughing and couldn't bring herself to stop. Maybe it wasn't so bad. Maybe it had missed all her organs. Maybe all she had to do was push and pull herself free.

She grabbed hold of the slick metal, face contorted in pain as she tried and failed to drag her body forward to freedom.

"What a stupid way to die," she murmured. Shura looked up at the sky, the blue light fading. She'd kick Satan's ass for this. For hurting her friends, the brothers. Her boys. Her family. "I'm sorry, Shiro. I tried. I guess, ugh, I guess I wasn't cut out to be a father either."

She laughed at her own joke until it hurt too much and rested her hands limply on the rod. Everything was cold and tingly, every muscle below her waist falling asleep and becoming numb.

"I wouldn't say that. I think in your case, the student certainly surpassed the teacher."

Through tunnel vision and black spots blotting her sight, Shura squinted at the glowing figure. He was just like she remembered him, when he had found her. Not so old, with the superior grin in place. Always knowing something she didn't.

"Shiro..."

It was a warm embrace that took hold of her body. Shura closed her eyes and appreciated the feeling, like sun on her skin. She'd almost forgotten that kind of warmth.

"You did well, Shura." Shiro's hand smoothed over her cheek.

"Thank you." Her hands fell free of the cold metal and she slumped forward. In the distance she could hear familiar voices calling out to her, but there was nothing she could do. A final line of pinpricks ran up her spine and she was gone.

Kamiki held tight to Shiemi as they rounded the corner. It had been a slow walk across the courtyard, away from the blue light and what ever danger it brought, but they needed to find Shura and Bon before anything elese. Kamiki needed Bon. She needed him alive and well. Kage Ketsueki dragged at her side, but she held onto the blade tightly. She would slit Satan's throat with it yet. It was the very least she could do.

"Oh no."

Kamiki paused and glanced down at Shiemi. She followed her gaze and her heart dropped. Shura was pressed against a fallen wall, a sharp metal pole splitting through her. Shiemi left Kamiki's side and limped forward. She hated herself for thinking it, for feeling the modicum of jealously, but a small part of Izumo Kamiki thought that it was for the best. That somehow Shura had gotten out before things just got worse. She could only hope that her friend hadn't suffered.

"She's dead," Shiemi said with dry finality. "Help me get her down from here. We can't leave her like this."

"Shiemi, we don't have time." Kamiki cleared her throat and stared at the ground. "We have to find Boccha—Suguro."

"Kamiki, she was our friend. It's the least we can do. We have to make the time, all right?" Shiemi had already started to tentatively feel around Shura for the easiest way to free her. It was hard to watch her work but all Kamiki could find the strength to do was stand there. She couldn't bring herself to touch another dead body.

"Kamiki," Shiemi kept her back to her, "please help me. It's...important."

Her voice was quiet but firm and Kamiki found herself wandering, placing Kage Ketsueki on the ground as she helped Shiemi. It was numbing, but she knew it was the right thing to do, to help a friend one last time.

Rin Okumura was falling, panic grasping him as he reached out in the darkness, desperate for something to stop his descent. He caught glimpses of what was happening around him. He—no, Satan—was looking at Yukio, watching him lay bleeding on the ground. There were snippets of sound that reached his ears from time to time. But it was fear that took hold of him and blotted out the world.

He'd fought back at first, given it his all. With every bit of strength he'd still possessed, he'd fought to keep Satan from taking hold. It had failed. He had failed. And now, in fractions of sight, he was going to witness his brother die. There was nothing he could do. As he fell, he felt himself breaking apart, crumbling. It really was the end.

"I won't die."

Rin felt a shudder surge through his body. Yukio. In the distance of the all encompassing darkness, he caught sight of his brother looking up at him. Defiant, scared, but ready to fight. Yukio spoke again and there was a long pause before his words reached Rin.

"And I will save my brother."

All sensation stopped. Rin felt as though his feet were on solid ground once again. Everything started to rush towards, to come into focus, the blackness dissipating. He reached out to his brother and saw his hand move.

A rumble of laughter shook him to his bones and in a flash of pain, he was in the bleak nothingness once again.

"You'll die beneath my foot, at your brother's hand. Slowly, painfully." Satan's voice roared through his ears, but Rin's focus was elsewhere. On the tiny sliver of light he could see high above him, so far away. Yukio had not given up. What kind of example would he be setting for his younger brother if he refused to fight as well? There was no time to fear anymore. This was the end and Rin's final chance to kick Satan's ass.