Authors Note:

I've honestly got no idea what it's like to die. I assume it would be something like this.

(Especially if you're dying in your sleep from a combination of a disease that's taking away your life and a made-up infection/disease/fake-demon-thing that's taking away your life.)


Her breathing is steady beside him, and he's glad for this, glad she's so deeply asleep as he slips farther and farther into what he assumes will be cold and black. (Or warm and black. Most of his near-death experiences have been warm.)

He doesn't regret too many things in his life, and he's relatively glad for this, though he does wish he'd had more time to spend with her.

Her. His greatest weakness.

It takes a considerable amount of effort to turn his head and to reach out to gently clasp her hand, and it leaves him breathless afterwards. His body feels heavy, and the heat from the candles she had lit around their room suddenly feels like ice instead of fire.

He'd known this would come, known his entire world would get unbelievably cold before he felt nothing else.

He didn't know he'd be so aware of his death when it happened, though. He had hoped he would die on the battlefield, but there was no war, was nothing for him to fight for anymore. He could feel his life slowly slipping away, and he's just grateful it's not due to the Fury's influence.

The sound of his breathing is slowly dulling in his ears, and he coughs once just to test what he already knows – his hearing has dimmed considerably, almost like he were underwater.

His fingers twitch against her hand, and she subconsciously tightens her grip around his frigid fingers, and he feels a pang of annoyance that he can't quite feel her against him anymore.

He feels tired, and he guesses this is a better way to go than choking on his own blood.

Minutes slip by, and he's met with something that actually surprises him about death – all of the colors around him are getting brighter and sharper, instead of dimming. The dull flames from the candles are suddenly wonderful infernos, and the moon outside illuminates the entire room, getting into the shadows that the candles create.

And she's gorgeous, her hair shimmering and her skin clear, and he's overcome by the strong desire to kiss her one last time.

He settles with a sweet kiss to her hand instead, narrowing his eyes with a small smile on his face.

She'd be okay. Chizuru would help her get through this – the two of them had always been close, and even moreso after the war was over.

The colors around him are way too bright and crisp now, and he closes his eyes against them and brings her hand up to his chest, gripping it as tightly as he can. (He doesn't think that's all too tight anymore.)

He can hear her waking up as he slips off into a warm – heh, he'd been right – sleep, and though he can hear her crying softly, he feels her press her lips against his skin.