Author's Note: "After Life" is also the English name of a wonderful Japanese movie. This was written in response to a request from the saiunkoku_fic community's annual Secret Santa exchange. The requestor said nothing more depressing than the anime . . . actually I don't think this is depressing at all, and had tremendous fun writing it. I have a thing for snark, what can I say?

She was dying, but actually that was just fine with her. Her obligations were adequately discharged, and while she had never been one to give up simply because it was easiest, she nonetheless felt that she had given a more than sufficient accounting of herself and she could thus quit the field with honor.

Sa Eiki-- and proud of it, thank you, widow or no she would not give that up-- still had one more barrier to cross prior to finding her well-deserved rest; he stood glowing before her in that featureless place of in-between that she had visited occasionally, the borderland of visions and of death. His vulpine eyes were as difficult to read as always, but she could feel the faint, insufferable smirk that never seemed far from his face coloring the air around him.

"Hyou Eiki," Shou Yosei said gravely, "you are dying."

"Fox bastard," she let him see her teeth, sharp and white when she named him, "I know that, just who do you think I am?"

He studied her. "Indeed. You saw this coming, then."

She snorted and crossed her arms. "Of course not, don't be ridiculous. No seer ever sees her own death; we would never get anything done, elsewise. But there are signs, and needless to say I am not at all surprised."

"You know, then, that the Hyou clan has taken your life."

"They have taken my death," she said severely, "there is quite a difference. My life has belonged only and ever to me."

"Yes," he said, and sighed. "Would you believe that I once thought I would be happy when this day came? The foolishness of youth, when I had thought myself past all such things."

"You are certainly not past that," she said, scornful. "You're here, after all. Interfering in things that don't concern you."

"This may seem strange to you, but I find that after having spent a lifetime as your rival, I am no more inclined to give you up than I was him."

"You had his life, and then his death as well. Don't be so greedy."

"Yes, but I wanted his heart."

She tossed her head impatiently. "You will forgive me if I'm not particularly sympathetic."

"I shall do nothing of the sort." He considered her gravely. "I could save you, still."

"You will not," Eiki said, horrified.

He sighed. "I will not."

"All right, then," she settled, and let herself look at him-- really look. Yosei carried his centuries lightly, and before her, he never lied or tried to fool her regarding his true appearance. She would have scorned him if he had, not that he would have cared, and for the first time she wondered if perhaps this was actually a gesture of respect on his part. She had never once mentioned his secret to anyone . . . not for any particular reason that she could think of.

Or perhaps her reason was exactly the same. He had chosen to live his life along with her Enjun-- to serve with him, to stay with him, to grow old with him. He had lived a human lifetime, as had she. And now-- Enjun was dead, and she was dying. Soon all those he had known for so long would pass from the earth, and he would remain. Alone.

She brought her fingers swiftly and lightly across his face, and let them stay against his cheek. "I have learned, at this last, that you are a sentimental fool," she said, and gave him the rarest of her gifts-- her smile. "Too bad I'll no longer be able to use it against you."

He caught her fingers and brought them to his lips. "I have known, long since, that you are an incomparable woman, exquisite as a piece of jade. I could not have lost to a worthier opponent."

"I'll allow you to call it a draw," she said, primly withdrawing her hand. "We're keeping Enjun waiting, you know."

"I've kept the both of you waiting for a lifetime," Yosei said, returning to his habitual asperity, "I'm certainly not going to start apologizing now."

"See that you don't," she said, and brushed off the skirts of her wedding robes. "I'm an old woman, and I don't take kindly to change."

He smiled, and offered his arm in an age-old, courtly gesture. "May I?"

She adjusted the fall of her black hair-- thick and lustrous-- and graciously laid her long, smooth fingers over his elbow. "I'm ready."