ANs: this ending is true cringe XD But this is the ending that I dreamt up as a angsty hormonal teenager so I'm just gonna run with it XD it's a little high five to the past me. but damn I had very questionable taste.

Kiminobu: you still do
Star: no one asked you!

OK so akiraismylover so sweetly described it as "aftercare" after all the preceding chapters full of angst and drama SO I'll run with that. Hahaha.

Demon
Epilogue

The train compartment rattled around them. Three tall figures dressed in high school uniforms sat together in silence. The tallest one had his arms and legs folded, head swaying gently with the motion of the carriage, apparently sound asleep. Opposite him, the two others looked a little uncomfortable, and gazed out of the windows, or at one another, or occasionally snuck glances at their dozing companion.

Eventually, agitated by some thought he had, the one with the long hair abruptly asked, "Are you sure about this?"

The sleeping boy slowly lifted his head and stared frankly at him. He had sharp blue eyes under a feathered silken fringe, and a youthful face that was at once sweet, and a little bit intimidating. "Yes," he answered shortly.

The boy with long hair who was Mitsui Hisashi - known as the First, slayer of demons, part angel part monster, master of Vengeance, swordsman of legend, warrior of the gates - huffed and shifted his weight in annoyance. "I don't like it."

Beside him, the third boy in the group laid his hand appealingly on Mitsui's arm to placate him. "Hisashi," he said reasonably. "This is an important day for Kaede."

"I don't care," Mitsui grumbled. "It's not right."

Rukawa Kaede - the Third, watcher, slayer, angel in exile, guardian of the two blades, and the destroyer of gods - sent him an irritated glance from beneath his fringe and didn't respond.

Mitsui folded his arms. "How many times are you going to do this?" he demanded. "When are you going to let him go? It's..." he wrinkled his nose, and after a moment he shook his head and finished. "...it's not fair."

Rukawa turned his head silently and looked the other way. Though he still did not answer, his hand lifted and slipped into his jacket, reaching instinctively for the pocket sewn into the lining of his school blazer. It was heavy due to the guns he kept with him always. His fingers brushed against them. Metallic and heavy.

One gun was Innocence. A weapon he kept in trust. The other gun was Akira; the symbol of the bond.

As time passed, the weapons changed form with the passing of eras. The longswords of ancient times were now modern weapons of the age.

But some things did not change. Such as when his fingers brushed the metal of Akira, and he felt the chill sensation of cold. A signal he had been waiting for anxiously for many years.

"Six times," Kogure - the second, emissary of the heavens, angel in exclesis, apprentice-master of the House of Swords, and consort of the damned - answered Mitsui's question. "Not counting the two times we didn't approach him."

At that, Rukawa scowled a little to himself, not wanting to be reminded of those particularly difficult years.

"He makes me promise," he finally deigned to answer, sparing Mitsui a glance. "Every time. He is the one who always insists."

"Well if you didn't tell him, then he wouldn't know -"

"Hisashi," Kogure said more firmly, cutting him off with a stare and a disapproving shake of his head.

Mitsui closed his lips tightly, huffed one last time, and looked out of the window. It wasn't like they hadn't had this argument before.

Rukawa's fingers curled tighter around the freezing cold metal. Gripping it as hard as he could.

Akira...

He closed his eyes.

Finally. You're here.

Hundreds of years before, the same Rukawa Kaede had sat on the rooftop of Yoku, listening to the sounds of children below, and felt fear like he'd never known before in his life.

He appeared as a youth - a handsome young man - as he always had for as long as he had known Sendoh Akira. But time had passed much faster than he had expected, and the end was pressing more and more insistently upon him every day. A whole lifetime had passed by before he had even noticed the years slipping away. And these days, whenever the occasion arose that they met someone new, Akira always introduced him as his grandson.

Being introduced as his son had been annoying enough. But... grandson? That really made Rukawa scoff.

The urge to embrace him and kiss him always came upon him at those moments. He wanted very badly for everyone to know; he is mine. But he knew it would seem strange to the point of incomprehensibility for those who didn't know better, so he refrained though only to make Sendoh's daily life easier.

But at home, alone, away from those fools with whom Sendoh was so patient and willing to share pleasantries, he would not be denied. He would kiss him, hold him, and make love to him, all with the same eager fire as always.

But it seemed, these days, that every time he opened Sendoh's robes, letting his eyes trace his body and his skin, he seemed older, frailer, tireder. And while it changed nothing of his love and his desire, it did stir in him this... fear.

Not yet.

He wasn't ready.

He wasn't ready to be without him.

He would kiss him harder, holder him tighter, and feel his heart stutter wildly in his chest. It felt like he was being chased. The cruel and relentless march of time that followed him continuously. How to make it stop? How?

Sendoh would stroke his hair and kiss his lips and smile, with love visible in his eyes. And Kaede would not know what to do. It seemed impossible. Unbearable.

They had returned to Yoku permanently over a decade ago, when it had become too difficult for Sendoh to continue travelling. As one of the greatest swordsmen of the age, it had seemed a natural thing that Sendoh should establish a sword school, and these so-called retirement years had been far from quiet. Sendoh had filled Yoku with the kind of energy and life she hadn't held in centuries. Dozens of once empty rooms now served students who came and went and ate and gathered and napped and chatted.

And up above, Rukawa sat on the roof, feeling the breeze against his face, knowing that it was beautiful, being glad that Sendoh was happy, but feeling unbearably sad just the same.

He wanted this to last forever.

Don't take him from me.

Please.

Please.

But there was no one to pray to. Mortals died. That was the way of the world. And not even his deepest love could change that.

He stroked Akira's hilt anxiously with one hand, and found himself dwelling on things too much. His last hope seemed to be fading with each passing day. His own mind twisted around itself in an agony of worries. He waited impatiently for the lessons to end, for his lover to return to him so that he might lie with him upon the futon, brush his fingers through his hair and adore him. Every second now felt too precious to waste. Because, Rukawa knew, there weren't that many left.

On that particular day, the unexpected sound of raised voices in the middle of the class echoed up from below, and, curious, Rukawa crawled forward to look down from the edge of the roof.

The lesson taking place had paused as the master greeted someone who had just entered through the main gate. Rukawa had to blink a couple of times to recognise him.

Most of the students waited patiently in silence, but the youngest could not hold his manners and blurted out, "Master, who is it?"

Sendoh Akira's face broke into a tender smile as he regarded the young man who had just arrived. "An old friend."

"Is he your grandson too?" the outspoken youngster asked loudly.

"Ah-" Sendoh tilted his head a little at that. "Uhm, yes."

Mitsui Hisashi rolled his eyes, closed the gate, and stalked across the courtyard irritably. Like Rukawa, he had youth in his features. However he struck an intimidating figure, with his huge longsword, ferocious expression, and his long, powerful strides. Students drew back instinctively as he stormed through them all.

"Grandson?" he hissed in annoyance as he reached Sendoh, lifting an eyebrow accusingly.

Sendoh looked a little nervous. "Well, it's just because-"

Mitsui snorted, put an arm around Sendoh's shoulders and dragged him into a fierce embrace. "Good to see you little brother. Damn, you look fucking old."

Sendoh gave a quiet chuckle and embraced him warmly in return.

"What are you, like, seventy?" Mitsui snorted, patting his back roughly.

"Eighty four," Sendoh replied.

Mitsui tutted as he released him. "Still a baby."

Rukawa watched this exchange curiously from above. He hasn't seen Mitsui since they had last parted - when had that been? He hadn't dared to count the years passing. Could it have been sixteen years already? It felt like minutes.

The last time the gate had closed in this area, Akira and Kaede had decided it was time to stay, while Mitsui continued on alone to the next gate. So, why had Mitsui come back here now? It was not time yet for the gate to return.

A quiet noise behind Rukawa made him whirl around abruptly to find a second visitor standing behind him.

This young man was a little shorter, but he had an elegance about him that was unmistakable.

"Kiminobu?" Rukawa breathed in amazement, eyes widening.

Kogure nodded silently, though his expression remained sombre and serious, and he looked very, very tired.

Rukawa climbed hesitantly to his feet, blinking slowly. He hadn't seen Kogure Kiminobu in decades. The so-called emissary of the heavens had neglected his role, and spent all these years shut up amongst books and tomes. In face Rukawa hadn't seen him since Sakuragi Hanamichi was slain. Nor had Mitsui, for that matter, much to the First's oft stated disgust.

Rukawa was suddenly filled with such nervous disbelief that he almost didn't dare to speak. He had to swallow before he could force his voice to work. It seemed Mitsui was here to accompany Kiminobu. And if Kiminobu had finally descended from his half-century of seclusion, then it meant that-

"Did you..." Rukawa took breath, "…did you find it?"

Kogure pursed his lips slightly, holding back a smile. "That's why I'm here."

"Really?" Rukawa stared at him dumbfounded. "You... you really...?"

Kogure gestured that they should go inside. "Let's talk," he said. "And I'll tell you what that I've learned."

"I really wish you'd cut your hair," Kogure was saying, eyeing Mitsui's long locks disapprovingly. The train rattled onwards, carrying them towards their destination. A school in the next town. "When are you going to stop this weird gangster thing?"

Mitsui folded his arms and rolled his eyes. "It looks good on me," he protested.

Kogure grimaced to himself.

Rukawa ignored them both.

Mitsui pulled open the zip of his school book bag, dragged out a magazine focused on local sports, and began to flick through it idly. After turning a few more pages he sat up a little straighter. "Hey-" he said to them both. "Hey. Look at this."

He turned the magazine around to show a sponsored school advertisement. There was a photo of a yellow bricked, elegant private school complete with ivy walls and wrought iron gates. "Shoyo," the headline announced. "Elite education institute."

Rukawa couldn't see the significance, and only shrugged after peering at it for a moment.

"There," Mitsui pointed to a picture of the school's basketball team printed in the bottom corner. "Notice anything?"

Rukawa took the paper in hand, and read the captioned list of names. His eyes widened. "Fujima Kenji," he read aloud. "Captain."

Kogure also straightened. "Really? Is it... him?"

Rukawa squinted closer at the picture. "It looks like him," he acknowledged uncertainly after a moment.

"Check the vice captain," Mitsui suggested.

"Hanagata-" Rukawa read slowly, "-Toru."

Mitsui lifted two eyebrows meaningfully and waggled them.

Rukawa tossed the magazine right into his face. "Meaningless," he said. "It's just coincidence."

Mitsui slapped the magazine aside, looking hugely offended. Kogure caught it and took a look for himself. "Wasn't Fujima's mortal lover called Toru?"

"Yeah, his wife," Mitsui agreed. "But, she was a woman."

"A name is just a name," Rukawa muttered. "And a body is just a body." He looked out of the window. "It's the soul that matters."

"But... it would be nice," Kogure said, looking down at the picture of the Shoyo team again, "if it were true."

"There's no way to ever know."

"I guess not."

It was a very complex spell that Kogure had with ingenuity managed to devise himself. A way to collect memories, keep them, and later imbue them into another mind. It wasn't completely perfect, and inevitably a few things would be lost, but on the whole it was exactly what Rukawa had hoped for.

He couldn't be sure that it would work. He couldn't be sure of a great many things. So despite the fact that he had a plan, that he had Sendoh's agreement, that he felt like he had some control over the situation, in spite of everything, the day Sendoh Akira died was a day of true terror for him. For the first time, the blade Akira ceased to glow at his touch, the blue light flickering out. Rukawa had lain down, curled up beside the body, nestled into the futon, breathing hard. It had been so strange, to see him there. He looked like he was asleep. He looked like Rukawa could simply shake him awake. It had been so unbelievable, so impossible to accept. Just a moment ago this body had held life, and now it was empty. And yet it looked just the same. It had taken hours for the body to grow cold and stiff enough for Rukawa to accept that Sendoh Akira was… gone.

He'd pushed his noise into the blankets, into Sendoh's clothes and his neck, desperate to take into himself the last remnants of his scent. He hadn't wanted to let go of his hand. He had had refused to let anyone pass the door. He had been inconsolable in his grief.

He hadn't wanted anyone to touch the corpse. This body... was his. He had loved it. It had loved him back. Those arms. Those lips. These hands. Every inch of it was his treasure. They couldn't take Sendoh from him. His desire to protect and defend him was overwhelming.

It had been days before Kogure had finally convinced him to let them remove it. After that he'd remained in the futon, sleeping under Sendoh's kimono with his limbs wrapped about the two swords for comfort. He did not attend the burial. He did not leave the house. He lay with his hand gripping the warm hilt of Akira, fully intending to do absolutely nothing but wait for that feeling of coldness to return. Absolutely terrified that it never would.

"Ryonan," Kogure squinted up at the sign.

Rukawa didn't hear. He was busy running his fingers over Akira's surface compulsively, as if afraid the chill feeling might abruptly cease.

He was, as he always was at this juncture, full of doubts.

As Mitsui was near-constantly reminding him, Sendoh Akira's memories contained some of the most painful and traumatising years any mortal could bear. Being a slayer was to be broken. And returning those memories to a reborn man, who ought to have be facing a fresh start, seemed a perverse and unfair thing to do. To make him suffer, all over again, the murders of his family and his friends. To make him relive the torture Sakuragi had inflicted upon him. Yes, Rukawa always had doubts and fears that perhaps he was not doing the right thing.

But at the end of each and every lifetime, Sendoh had forced the same promise upon him. Find me, he always insisted. Come back to me.

Only twice had Rukawa failed to fulfil that promise. Two occasions when, by the time he'd been able to find him, it had been too late.

Once, Sendoh Akira had been a married man with a young child. And once he had been a newly wedded bride, just starting her new life with her husband. And in both cases, Rukawa had watched him live from afar. Watched him in the arms of another person. Watched him feeling happiness. Feeling joy. Living the life he was supposed to live.

Because mortals had the right to rebirth. They had the right to begin again. Live fresh. Cast away the old pains and struggles, and fight for a better life.

Perhaps Hisashi is right, Rukawa often thought to himself. Perhaps I should let him go. He would be... happier. I could still watch him. He wouldn't have to know.

But it seemed he wasn't strong enough to do it.

They walked towards the gym. "Kiminobu!" Akagi called, spotting them and waving them over. "You're late!"

Kogure glanced at Mitsui who was already veering away from them, planning to go another way. "It's just a friendly," he commented. "Why don't you come along? I know you want to play-"

"No thanks," was the short response.

Kogure rolled his eyes. "You're unbearably stubborn, you know."

Rukawa kept walking in tense silence.

Sendoh Akira. Sendoh Akira. The name was running constantly through his mind. He wasn't always born with that same name, of course. He wasn't always male. He wasn't always tall. But there was always something about him that made him him. And, Rukawa had found that fate tended to lean towards similar incarnations each time. Though he wasn't always athletic, he usually was. Though he wasn't always male, he usually was. Though he wasn't always called Akira, he usually was. Each time there was some feeling of consistency.

"I wish he'd stop all this," Kogure grumbled about Mitsui. "What kind of idiot sulks for years over some stupid-" Kogure pausing, seeming to finally notice Rukawa's silence. "Hey, you okay?"

Rukawa only nodded in response, his throat dry.

They joined their teammates, and went on to the changing rooms.

The number seven jersey remained draped over the chair, even though everyone else was already present and dressed. Rukawa moved his feet, shoes squeaking quietly, fidgety. He adjusted the band on his forearm.

He could hear the opposition's coach raving about their missing star player. Could see the discomforted looks on the faces of the other team.

Rukawa glanced at Kogure in agitation, who met his eyes and sent him a reassuring smile.

He tried to remember to breathe.

Where is he? he felt bothered.

He had waited so long. So, so, long.

There came a crash as the gym door burst open, and everyone else turned to look.

"Sorry I'm late," came that familiar, friendly tone that set Rukawa's heart pounding.

And then, taking a breath, Rukawa turned around to see him for the very first time. The boy who had saved him.

=THAT IS FINALLY THE FUCKING END=
=FML=

AN: did you finish it? wow. really? congratulations on your descent into madness. nice to see you here ;)

This marks the end of my Slamdunk writing journey! Thanks for coming along with me I hope you enjoyed the ride!

If I had know from the start that this fic would take me THREE YEARS and SIX REWRITES and 500-600 HOURS OF TIME I wouldn't have started it but isn't that the beauty of NOT BEING PSYCHIC.

Now I'm dead.

Obligatory long fic SONG LIST!

Paradise (What About Us?) by Within Temptation (fic theme!)

She Wolf (Falling to Pieces) by David Guetta & Sia (HanaRu theme!)

Until The Day I Die by Story of the Year

Behind Closed Doors by Rise Against (slayer's theme haha)

My Demons by STARSET

Carnivore by STARSET (Sendoh's theme!)

Dance with the Devil by Breaking Benjamin (the last fight)

Tangled Up In You by Staind

Snow White Queen by Evanescence (Sakuragi to Kaede)

You're Not Alone by Saosin

We Belong by Pat Benatar (I know it's old and cheesy as fuck but this is the Senru theme hahaha)

The Reason by Hoobastank (probably Kaede's theme IDK)

A Thousand Years by Jasmine Thompson (Kaede to Akira ;_; )

Immortals by Fall Out Boy (if this fic was a movie, this would play in the closing credits, because damn this song is GOOD)

Better Think Again by Submersed