AN: Well, this is cause for happiness. It only took a few weeks to get the last chapters out, just in time for the new school semester to start.

Thanks to koryandrs, OnnaMusha, and The History Queen for reviewing the last chapter, as well as all of you who have stuck with the story up to this point. I hope you enjoy the conclusion to our journey.

Chapter 34: Sunrise

The next thing he knew, Ryokan's mind was being stirred awake by the sound of the wind rushing past him. It was the same wind that had been chilling Ryokan for days, but the other thing he noticed just then was that he couldn't feel it, or anything else. He could barely even tell that he was lying on solid ground – a flat, indecipherable plane that wasn't soft, hard, uneven, or rigid. It was as if his mind and body were detached from one another, and for a moment he feared to open his eyes, wondering if he would be able to see.

Carefully, his eyelids parted to the sight of darkness, realizing his considerations for a moment. Was this the underworld? It didn't seem like it: the void around him grew brighter as his eyes adjusted to it, revealing a dark, cloudy sky like the one that had engulfed the village after the Repentance.

Ryokan lied still for awhile, awash with a peculiar shift of reality that he didn't wish to complicate with movement. Wherever he was, Ryokan's physical pain was completely gone. Not just from his injuries, but from the exhaustion and stresses of age, too. The "old man" felt young again, but how? He had felt the wounds, and he remembered falling into the Hellish Abyss before everything went dark.

Ryokan's situation became a lot clearer when he looked down, checking to ensure that his body was still there. He was wearing a ceremonial white robe, and at first glance, everything underneath it seemed accounted for. Two arms, a torso, waistline intact, and two legs protruding from it.

Squinting in the dark, however, his chest tensed when he noticed that his feet were absent. Below the knee, both his clothes and the limbs under them faded into nothingness. At least everything else was visible, though.

Yes...the rest of it was just transparent.

Now Ryokan understood. "Dead," he said to himself, disappointed but easily accepting. He waved some of his limbs to test his movement, and became aware of more problems with his figure. For one, he wasn't breathing. Looking down at his diaphragm showed that it wasn't undulating up and down, and the rhythmic thump of a beating heart was absent in his ears as well. On the bright side, the leaking gashes, protruding bones, and other injuries that he had already noted didn't hurt anymore were gone as well. His chest was completely unblemished, as if nothing had ever threatened him.

Sitting up languidly, Ryokan assessed his surroundings more fully. He recognized the wooden flooring as part of Whisper Bridge, the extrusion of planks and railings that connected the shore of the river to Kurosawa House. His house...maybe some of it had survived. Turning his head hopefully, Ryokan frowned at what he saw. A twisted mess of charred wood and glowing embers frowned back at him. Everything was destroyed, deposited in an uneven heap on the ground save for a few stubborn pillars and bits of framework that poked up at the heavily smog-ridden sky. A keen enough nose could've sensed the smoke rising from miles away; Ryokan's lack of smell was beginning to annoy him. Then again, so was the ability to stare through his knees and see the bridge.

Ryokan managed to stand, despite the surreal impossibility of such a thing, and pondered what was holding him aloft. Frustrated, he raised his legs up, one by one, and stomped in place. His knees felt as if they were still burdened, straining to lift feet that weren't there, but when he brought them down, he didn't feel or hear anything contact the wood. They just stopped, as if an invisible force were holding him away from the safety of the ground. Staring down at his phantom limbs, the old man took a short walk up and down the bridge. He didn't remember ever feeling this light or moving so smoothly – he wasn't walking at all, he was floating!

There was probably a way to move without even using his legs, only doing so now because he couldn't comprehend any other way to animate himself. His stomach twisted a little as a memory pressed on him of the time he had fought Kanehira's spirit here. His old friend had sunken through the floor and levitated back up at will – could he do that too? There was no telling what variety of surprises the spiritual form could hold, but Ryokan couldn't bring himself to think that far ahead. Right now, he had to focus on the village in front of him, which posed greater curiosities.

With Ryokan's plan carried out to the fullest, what would happen next? Just by thinking clearly, Ryokan realized that he had been spared the insanity that had turned all the other villagers into ravening lunatics, and that was something to be happy about. His mind was safe, but what about the others? Scanning All Gods from where he stood didn't reveal any change in appearance to suggest that the curse had been evicted, but the only way to know for sure was to wait. If the village was finally free, the sun would have to rise sooner or later.

Sliding over to the edge of the bridge, Ryokan took a seat and stared out at the gently flowing river. Depending on when he'd been dumped here, the old man had either a few minutes or several hours to wait. It crossed his mind to set out looking for the spirits of his fellow villagers, or explore the foundations of his ruined house to see if anything had survived. Merely thinking about it made him ache, though; he'd had enough scurrying from place to place. For the first time in days, Ryokan had the luxury to simply wait, and he wanted to make use of it for as long as it took for something to happen. Even his mind was quiet as he stared down, examining his own reflection rippling in the murky fluid. It was just too bad he couldn't feel the wind on his face; that would have made this moment absolutely perfect.

Hours passed. Darkness reigned. Staring to the east for signs of daybreak wore on the old man, and he had almost given up when a voice broke the silence. A familiar voice.

"Nice view, isn't it?" the voice came from Ryokan's left. Turning hastily, he saw none other than Kanehira Tachibana sitting next to him, staring out at the river just as he had been doing a few seconds ago. In death, Ryokan had been reunited with his only true friend. He wasn't wearing the veil that normally covered the faces of village priests, and Ryokan could tell he wasn't the wraith he had been last time they saw each other. Even the painted hieroglyphs that usually lined his face weren't there anymore, leaving his friend's warm smile unobstructed. Like Ryokan, this man was free.

Turning his expression toward the sky, Kanehira pointed up. Ryokan followed his gaze, and saw something truly amazing. Above them both, the dark clouds that had hung over Ryokan and his village for so long were starting to vanish, drifting off to more distant skies. The sky, clearer than before, reflected shades of blue that grew lighter and lighter until Ryokan, leaning forward as if it brought him closer to the heavens, saw the first daylight pierce the treetops of Misono Hill.

Seeing that sunrise lifted 68 years of shame and misery from the old man's conscious. It felt like he had been born again, into an openhanded world where everything was as it should be.

"The very best," Ryokan answered Kanehira's question without looking away from the horizon. Nothing else was said for a couple more hours as the two weary friends watched the inspiring hues give way to the relative calm of normal daylight hours. The time was passing unusually quickly, and Ryokan wondered if his spirit was acclimating itself in preparation for centuries of unrest on Earth. So far, it looked like the Malice had been right about that much...the old man's soul was stuck here.

"Why are you still here?" Ryokan wondered out loud, turning to Kanehira with an eyebrow raised.

"My wife died here," Kanehira answered, staring down into the murky waters that the drowned woman resided in. "I'm waiting to see her again. Aren't you waiting for your family too?"

"Waiting for them to have at me," Ryokan placed his arms on one of the bridge's horizontal beams and rested his head on them, frowning deeply. "After everything I've done, I doubt they'll be happy to see me."

"Maybe so," Kanehira said, doing a 180 take of the vista in front of them. "But I would be proud knowing my father, my wife, or my friend had saved the village," the priest looked back at Ryokan, smiling garishly.

"I don't know about that," Ryokan didn't smile back. "Not much that I've done is something to be proud of."

"Ryokan," Kanehira's smile melted into an expression of admonishment, "you've paid your debt to this place's people. Try to be happy about that."

Looking up, Kanehira gave a furtive glance to something behind Ryokan. "Although, if you want to apologize, now might be the time."

For the first time, Ryokan became aware of a tall figure standing to his right. It was positioned just slightly behind him to avoid his gaze, but the old man could see a faint curtain of purple in his peripheral vision. Turning, his eyes widened as his wife, Kiyomi, greeted his vision.

"Hello, husband," Kiyomi fumed, towering over him. Ryokan rocketed up and backpedaled, nearly tripping over Kanehira while his mind struggled to process the new arrival. Where did she come from?! He entertained the idea that she had suddenly appeared there, but it was just as possible that she had simply walked up to him. These ethereal beings were even harder to spot with light obscuring them, and Ryokan had been distracted with the sunrise.

"Kiy..." Ryokan stopped when Kiyomi slapped him across the face with one of her hands. The old man's head recoiled from the blow; to his surprise, it really stung, and not just in the embarrassing sense. Ryokan couldn't resist a small smile, pleased to find he still had the sense of touch, so long as another spirit was responsible. The smile infuriated Kiyomi, however, who slapped him again, scalding his other cheek.

"I'm sorry," Ryokan lowered his head, his shame not allowing him more fluent speech, "for everything."

"Sorry?!," the seething woman started, glaring at her cowed husband, "you imprisoned me in a cellar, drove one of our daughters away, killed the other, and locked him in a storehouse," Kiyomi pointed an accusing finger at Itsuki, who was walking down the shore to the bridge with his siblings, Mutsuki and Chitose, in tow.

"I should throw you into the river!" Kiyomi shouted. A few seconds passed as Ryokan closed his eyes, awaiting punishment that never came. When he opened them again, Kiyomi's look had softened and become calm. "But...you did sacrifice yourself to save us...so I guess I can forgive you."

Kiyomi turned away from her husband and took an uncomfortably distant seat on the bridge, far out of his arm's reach. Forgiveness or not, she was rightfully angry with him. Ryokan decided to give her the space she needed and disregarded her further, squinting discerningly at the water beneath him. A mop of long, black hair belonging to Kanehira's wife was becoming visible above the surface. Rising until she hovered out of the water, the ethereal women floated toward the bridge and took her place alongside Kanehira and their mutual children. Ryokan watched as the two lovers exchanged heartfelt greetings, and made lip contact for the first time in years. Curious, the old man turned toward his own wife expectantly.

"Don't even think about it," Kiyomi snorted derisively. Ryokan chuckled a bit and looked toward what remained of his house, but a bereft frown retook his face quickly. Despite considerable reasons to rejoice, Ryokan was troubled by the incompleteness of the occasion. Sae Kurosawa, the beloved daughter whose fate Ryokan most feared, was still missing, and there was no sign of her form shifting in the wreckage of his house.

Resting no longer, Ryokan stood and turned toward Kurosawa manor. Thinking of the last places where she had been alive drew his eye to the ritual chamber at the far end of the house. Unlike the rest, it was still standing, charred but visible on the horizon.

"Ryokan?" Itsuki asked curiously. The others were staring at him too, wondering what he was up to.

"Sae is in there somewhere," Ryokan replied. "I'm going to find her."

"I'm coming with you," Itsuki replied, standing up and moving to Ryokan's side. Kiyomi did the same, eager to see her daughter again.

The old man remained silent and unmoving for a couple of seconds, haunted by the way he had treated Sae when both of them were alive. "No," he ultimately said, walking a few paces forward and turning to obstruct their path, "this is something that I need to do alone."

Kiyomi opened her mouth to protest, but her rebuttal caught in her throat as she second-guessed herself. Ryokan was the one who had hurt Sae, not her, and she knew he needed to be the one to talk to her. Reluctantly, Kiyomi stepped back and nodded solemnly, and Itsuki followed suit.

"I'll bring her back when I find her," Ryokan uttered in earnest. Turning around, the old man set off down the bridge toward his house.

Ryokan found to his amusement that navigating rubble and uneven terrain was much easier in the afterlife. It brought him great glee as he floated straight through fallen beams and smoldering fires on his path to the shrine – as if he were taking revenge against the Earth itself by ignoring its obstacles. Overhead, Ryokan caught sight of a few bits of ethereal starlight ascending toward the sky – the first of many, shepherded by Crimson Butterflies, which glided up with them. The villagers were beginning their journey to the afterlife. Ryokan wondered if Sae was among them, if he was wasting his time looking for her.

That wouldn't stop him from trying. Even if he didn't find her here, he would search the entire village up and down, just to be sure. Maybe the entire world...

Ryokan floated along the path to the altar room, staring glumly at the once beautiful row of plants that had been burned down to their desiccated stalks by the fire. The entrance to the altar had been burned open, as had several other spots in the walls and ceiling that Ryokan noticed when he stepped inside. Rimmed by black soot, the holes were large enough to let sunlight shine through, illuminating the room and the specks of dust and debris that floated inside it. Ryokan had expected to hear the building creaking unsteadily, so it calmed his nerves to find that everything was quiet enough for him to hear his own kimono ruffling with his movements. There was no wind blowing against the shrine's walls, and Ryokan didn't have any feet to touch the ground – maybe there was even hope that it would be here long enough for someone to see it, and know the gruesome truth of why people had lived here. A memory formed of Mio and Mayu, the two girls that Ryokan had sensed while the village had still been under the influence of the curse. Now that it was gone, they would be free to live their lives, never being trapped here. If only Sae and Yae could've had that.

Ryokan's eyes fell on the back of the room, still intact and shrouded in relative darkness, where Sae's shimmering form rested. She was staring at the doorway, sitting indecisively with her back to him as though she had forgotten why she was there. Steeling himself for what would happen, Ryokan sucked in a breath, even though his dead lungs didn't need it.

"Sae...," Ryokan's voice was barely a whisper, but Sae still took notice, turning to regard him. Her face bore a bewildered look for a moment, but her eyes lit up as she remembered who he was.

"...dad?" she replied. Ryokan gazed into her eyes, a regretful frown on his face. He had wondered what he could possibly say to her that would express his remorse adequately, but Sae acted before he had a chance. Getting up, Sae first walked, then ran toward him, tackling him with a hug that knocked him back a few steps. Hunching down a little to be on the same level as her, Ryokan reciprocated the motion as Sae sobbed into his chest.

"I tried to kill you," Sae cried.

"And I succeeded in killing you," Ryokan lamented. He had expected Sae to rebuke his past actions, just as Yae had done back when there was still a chance to avoid this fate. It felt worse to see that Sae still blamed herself for everything that had happened, but at least it showed recollection of the past.

Sae lifted her head and made eye contact with her father. "I'm sorry..."

"No, I'm the one who's sorry," Ryokan interrupted hastily, almost too eager to overwrite her apology. "I was so obsessed with being a good Ceremony Master...so obsessed with upholding my father's tradition...that I was willing to throw you and Yae away to do it. Nothing should be worth that."

Hating her past repression and lack of assertiveness, Sae wouldn't let this argument go and shot back. "But I'm the one who couldn't let Yae go. We could've had a great life...out there," Sae stared through the large hole she had made during their previous fight, exposing the forest beyond the village, "or right here, just like you. Either way, my lack of trust hurt so many people."

"Well, you had me as a role model," Ryokan uttered in scorn for his own betrayals. "I guess we both learned something, then," the old man smiled down at his daughter, who smiled back. Through her ghostly body, he watched as illuminated specks of ash drifted down from the ceiling, contrasting the view as he looked up, seeing more and more ascending spirits through the roof's holes.

"I just wish we could've learned sooner."

Ryokan looked back down to see that Sae's expression had become blank, an idle stare piercing through his chest.

"What's wrong?"

"I feel...strange," Sae uttered softly, her eyes turning toward the ceiling. "I can't explain it...it's like I'm being pulled into someone else's dream."

Ryokan felt a pang in his chest as he looked back up at the sky, this time with frustration. "We can't stay here much longer," he said, looking back down at the shrine. To his dismay, the old man felt no such sensation himself, confirming the suspicion that the heavens were beyond him. "Well, you can't, anyway."

Before the curious girl had a chance to ask Ryokan what he meant by that, she found herself being pulled toward the same doorway Ryokan had entered through. "Come on, let's get you back to your mother."

Ryokan returned to the bridge with Sae in tow, relieved to see that his compatriots were still there. Especially Itsuki and Kiyomi, whom Sae would be happiest to see. Beaming with joy, she embraced her mother first, laughing with catharsis as Kiyomi enfolded her in her arms. It wasn't any different than Ryokan had pictured it being – a child and mother reunited, bereft of the guilt that had punctuated their own meeting mere minutes ago. Once she moved on to Itsuki, however, shyness and unresolved longing weighed Sae down, forcing a formal tone on what should have been personal.

Furrowing his brow irritably, Ryokan strided toward the two, stopping their exchange with his imposing presence. Before disaster struck the village, he had been aware of Sae's feelings for the white-haired boy, unrequited as far as he knew. Ryokan knew he couldn't follow where they were going, so someone else would have to be there for her, guiding her in the afterlife.

"You know, Sae," Ryokan leaned casually against one of the bridge's railings, his arms folded across his chest, "Even after the way I treated him, your friend there helped me save this village."

"Really?" Sae turned her surprised gaze toward Itsuki, who nodded subtly without smiling.

"Yes, he did. Helped me find the path to salvation, in more ways than one. He did it to save you." Ryokan shot a friendly smile toward Itsuki, but the socially awkward stare that reflected back told him that more prodding was needed.

"He must really care about you...right?!" Ryokan uttered heavily, not even caring to mask his wishes for the two of them. Getting the message at last, Itsuki took the chance to move a little closer to Sae, his kimono brushing against hers. Blushing furiously, Sae found herself unable to make a move of her own, but Ryokan had a feeling that everything would work out between them, in the next life.

Standing in back of the small group, Kanehira focused his gaze up as a long, howling wind blew toward the skies. A feeling of misplacement robbed him of his focus, just as it had done to Sae.

"I think our time has come," he said, looking to Ryokan for what he expected to be an agreeing nod. Instead, Kanehira sensed trouble; the remark had wiped any trace of optimism from his friend's face. Ryokan took a few steps back to signify the news he was about to give.

"Yes, it has. For the rest of you."

Kanehira and the others turned toward him as they tried to decipher his meaning. Stopping a few meters from the rest of the group, Ryokan shook his head glumly and closed his eyes – he anticipated the goodbye being moving enough that he didn't want to risk aggravating it with eye contact.

"Ending this curse cost me more than just my life," Ryokan chose his words cautiously, trying to balance truth with the need not to make Sae feel guilty. There was no hope of stopping the simple horror of such news, however. Sae stumbled back a few paces, fixated on Ryokan as if he would disappear if she looked away for so much as a second. Kanehira bowed his head in mourning as he worked out the news, and Kiyomi gasped as she realized that this was the last time she would ever see him. Even Mutsuki and Chitose, the group's least cognizant members, felt their spirits dashed by the announcement.

Ryokan shifted his weight uneasily in the following silence, as Sae, drained by the news, sat down and bore her brow with one of her hands. A couple tears squeezed out beneath his heavy eyelids as he started to comprehend what a life without company would truly be like. The old man tried his best to remain strong, however, for Sae's sake. Walking forward, he knelt down with her.

"Sae," Ryokan placed a hand on her shoulder, "do you remember when you and Yae were little? I used to tell bedtime stories back then, stories about spirits like the Yuki-Onna. She was a cursed spirit, trapped on Earth like me, yet she was able to marry a mortal man and bring joy to his life. They're the kinds of stories that we could only hope were true, and now I have the chance to write one of my own. To bring salvation from beyond the grave, to help people in ways that I never could before. That never would have been possible without the lessons you and the others taught me. Don't be ashamed of that, be happy about it."

Ryokan still had doubts of his own on such a broad promise. It assumed that he would be able to leave the village himself, which the other spirits hadn't been able to do so far. He wasn't sure how he would be able to interact with a world that wasn't aware of his presence, but the spirit world held secrets that he couldn't even imagine. At the very least, he could perform one final act of kindness for his family, recovering the only person that he had failed to help already. The one that had been out of his reach until now: Sae's sister, Yae.

"You'll be okay without me," Ryokan said in a voice that was encouraging but cracked by sorrow, weeping as he hugged Sae for the last time. "You're surrounded by people who care about you. You will see Yae again...I promise."

Sae placed her arms around him and closed her eyes, comforting herself with ruminations of where Ryokan's heroism would lead him. She couldn't help but wonder where Yae was or how her father planned to help her, but asking would just spoil the moment. Whatever he planned to do, he had all the time in the world to do it.

Kiyomi joined the hug, holding her family close as if keeping a tight enough grip would prevent the inevitable separation. Behind them, however, Ryokan took notice of the increasingly baritone gust of wind, stirring cherry blossom petals from underneath the trees they had fallen from, carrying them into the sky. The Ceremony Master broke the embrace and turned around just in time to see Kanehira clasp his hands together and bow, his goodbye to his friend.

"Don't forget about us," Kanehira whispered as his body began to disintegrate. From the bottom up, he dissolved into glistening motes of light, his warm smile remaining visible until his face was at last consumed.

"We won't forget about you," Kiyomi added, her pale form ebbing away in the same manner. Borne by the divine wind, each collection of remnants swirled into a sphere of light as they were lifted toward their unseen destination.

Ryokan was lost for words as he stepped back, choking down sobs and smiling with adoration as Itsuki and his two siblings followed.

Sae smiled warmly as the last traces of her disappeared as well. "Go, dad. Start a legend."

Both honored and bemused by these final words, Ryokan remained captivated by the retreating spheres of light, watching with tears of joy obscuring his vision until the howling winds had died down, and the very last orb of light had disappeared from view.

May 20, 1887

That was the date on Ryokan's mind as the tenacious spirit stood at the Torii gate atop Misono Hill, marking the village's exit. Seemingly innocuous, it was the impending date that Ryokan remembered from the diary he had glimpsed in a vision – the one written by Ryozo Munakata. It was the date by which Ryokan knew he and Yae would be living in the Himuro Mansion, provoking Kirie's curse and sealing their fate. The old man had to find his way there before they could get settled in.

The current year was 1874, giving him about 13 years to find Yae and stop Kirie from claiming another victim. Plenty of time for a living man to find Himuro Mansion on a map or ask for directions, but what about someone who had neither luxury? Ryokan didn't have Himuro's location memorized. Yae could be anywhere in Japan, and once he found her, he still needed a way to talk to her.

Ryokan wasn't prepared to think that far ahead; for now, he only wanted to leave this place. Gathering vigor, Ryokan floated forward and passed under the dark sliver of shade beneath the Torii gate, crossing through it without incident. Breathing a sigh of relief, Ryokan surveyed the forest backcountry that lay ahead of him. Towering trees were illuminated in bright green by balmy rays from the newly restored sun, and bramble patches sat below him, their thorns unable to pierce his impalpable flesh. It was a good beginning for the journey, one that the ex-Ceremony Master was grateful for.

As Ryokan wandered into the forest beyond, a final Crimson Butterfly watched from a nearby branch. Only when it was confident that its former brother had seen the last of All Gods Village did it finally depart into the skies beyond.

AN: Conclusion was a lot longer than I expected, so sorry if this chapter seemed to drag on too long.

This ending is the reason I had to mark the story as a slight AU in the description. It's a reality where the actual events of Fatal Frame 2 cease to exist because of Ryokan's different actions. I hope this didn't bother all of you too much; I tried to keep most of the story within canon, but wanted enough space to add my own spin on things.

All that's left now is the epilogue, which wraps the story up and answers whatever questions are still unsolved. It's already posted, so you're free to continue whenever you want. See you then.