Written: From 8/26 to 8/29/07. About 6 hours in all.

Rating: M for strong language, highly suggestive themes and dialogue, and some sexual content. I wanted very badly to make this story conform to the Teen content guidelines, but I could not bear to censor the story; it would have compromised the effect of the conclusion too much. You've been warned.

Notes: So here's the conclusion to the story arc that began with Kiss #12. It's gritty but satisfying in my opinion, and I think it's a fitting ending to the three-shot. I really hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! Wasn't easy to do, and I'm sure there's a rough spot here and there, so please review!

Eclipse

Kiss #14

Night had blanketed the scene nearly an hour ago, but still Anna sat in the darkness, holding a sheet of paper creased twice horizontally. She still held it in her ghostly pale fingers despite the fact that it was too dark to read anymore, not that she needed it to refresh her memory. Its words seemed permanently etched into her gray matter, and she held the sheet only out of inertia and disbelief. Then, almost against her will, she squinted at the words again, trying to find some out-of-place word, some proof that it was a joke, a forgery, a trick of the light, but only intensifying her grief when she failed…

Less than half a mile away, the shadowy figure of Yoh hobbled down the dim sidewalk, periodically mopping blood from his upper lip or clutching at the throbbing wounds that peppered his body. His collared white shirt had lost a few buttons and threads, but gained an unsettling assortment of dull red stains and a couple of choice boot prints. Were the lighting better, passersby would have seen all of this, plus the grim, steely determination cemented in his eyes that belied his overwhelming sense of malaise. The resolute quality of his eyes was from residual adrenaline, not confidence, and he dreaded facing Anna in this state—two hours late, empty-handed, and visibly on the ass end of an ass-kicking.

Somewhere between them, a ghostly samurai drifted faster than the wind, floating above houses and streetlights, looking for the pair of orange headphones he had come to respect as his vassal. Amidamaru's sixth sense was better than most spirits', and he had sensed a disturbance from his master not too long ago. Frantically his form darted from rooftop to rooftop, squinting in the twilight for that tangerine flash to show itself. He spotted it, but stopped himself from impulsively making his presence known.

Something wasn't quite right.

Amidamaru took in the disheveled, oddly mussed appearance of Yoh's hairdo, but as his glances drifted lower he grew increasingly alarmed. There was definitely a loping, injured appearance to his strides, and he was reasonably sure that both of his knees were poking out of his tattered olive-green pants. And it had certainly not been raining, so the dark droplets that stained his shirt had to be—

"Yoh-dono!" beseeched Amidamaru, who bent over so sharply that his ghostly visage was nearly brushing the sidewalk. "Forgive me, Lord Yoh, I began searching for you as soon as I sensed something was amiss—"

Yoh turned around, and his hardened gaze softened to a cordial look. He gave something that looked halfway between a broad smile and an excruciating wince. "Hey, Amidamaru. Just goes to show how important you are to me, huh?" he asked, sweeping his hand before himself. The samurai recoiled when he saw the crimson oozing from his nostrils and the blackness that was engulfing his left eye socket. He bowed lower still, so that the hairs of his stylish topknot disappeared into the concrete.

"I have failed you, Yoh-dono."

But Yoh gave a carefree smile that wiped the defeated expression off Amidamaru's face. "You could never fail me. How many times have you saved me? I'm pretty sure you're allowed to let me get a little abused now and then."

"I owe you far more than the information I am about to relay," he said conspiratorially, cupping an ethereal hand to one side of his mouth, "but I warn you: Anna-san is not happy with you at the moment. Choose your words carefully."

Yoh just shrugged, but his casual gesture triggered a wave of pain through his torso. "What else is new?" he asked sarcastically. "I'm sure it'll work out. I don't think you should be around to see this…"

Amidamaru gave a slight bow and vanished; they had arrived at the gates to the En Inn, where shadows ominously swayed upon the walkway leading to the entrance. Yoh felt rather much like a condemned criminal leading a procession to the gallows; he even hung his neck slightly, as though expecting the floor beneath his wobbly feet to dematerialize at any moment, tauting an invisible rope around his windpipe…

A bloodstained hand coiled weakly around the front door; Yoh knew it would be useless to call out to Anna, and swung the door open meekly. He saw a figure smartly dressed in black, sitting on a stool that faced the entrance, holding a sheet of creased paper. It uncrossed its legs and drew its head back slightly, and even in the utter darkness Yoh could see the arctic eyes glistening, could feel vitriolic icicles stabbing his own eyeballs…

"Where are the groceries?" Anna's cutting query echoed off the spartan walls, and it sent quivers up his spine. The sound had ceased but he heard it still in his mind, and he knew her cold fury wasn't about the missing plastic bags he had left behind in the alleyway.

"No, you don't have them. But you did bring me a present." Her gaze shifted to the black rectangle Yoh was twirling between his left thumb and forefinger. "If it's anything like the present you left me this morning, then you can shove it."

This last comment left Yoh completely at sea. With a frown, as though illuminating the room would help clear the confusion in his brain, he flicked the light switch, squinting as the yellow flood dilated his pupils. For a brief second he thought Anna's silent, enraged expression had given a gasp when she saw, highlighted in new brightness, the extent of the injuries decorating his body, but it was gone before he could blink.

"Although I suppose I am slightly impressed," said Anna as she stood up and took two long strides towards Yoh, "that you were apparently paying attention when we learned about poetry. Still, if this is your idea of a joke, then your sense of humor is even worse than your iambic pentameter."

Anna's outburst was the impetus for Yoh's brain to finally put the pieces together. Surely you see why this was necessary…the familiar-looking envelope he had found in the wallet…which had been, or so he thought, left under Anna's pillow that morning…except it wasn't…and the sheet of paper in Anna's enraged hands… "No! Anna, here—"

She gave an exasperated start. "You mug some guy at the supermarket and come home half-dead without anything to cook for dinner, and you leave me this stupid-ass poem, and then you think you can bribe me with your ill-gotten money and I'll suddenly jump on you and lick your goddamn wounds?"

Anna froze, a supremely furious expression stenciled on her visage, the folded sheet of paper an inch from Yoh's nose, her free fist clenched and devoid of color. Yoh likewise stood stock still, his bloodied mouth agape, swallowing up his own shallow, scared breaths, wishing he knew what to do. Suddenly he saw Anna's lips part slightly, and he felt an angry, hot warmth slowly dripping down the bridge of his nose.

"Fuck your poem," she hissed as the spittle wended down his stunned face. "Fuck what you think of me. And…"

Yoh was still rooted to the spot, his mind crammed full of things he knew he should say before Anna finished her sentence, any one of them, to stave off the despair that was quickly ensnaring his heart, but it was too late, his soul had already given up, and he began to feel moisture stinging at the corners of his eyes, joining the wet spot in the middle as they trickled down his scraped cheeks. The salt stung his lacerated skin, but not nearly as much as the end of Anna's sentence, which seemed to rend his entire chest in two:

"…Fuck you, Yoh."

There was nothing, absolutely nothing, that Yoh wouldn't have done at that instant to make those words ring false to his ears. He gladly would have unsheathed Harusame and plunged its blade into his devastated heart, if it meant he knew he was loved even as the last of his lifeblood spurted out of the gash. But he knew from the way Anna turned her back on him then, in an icy whirlwind of black, gold and red, that she meant what she had said.

The woman Yoh loved despised him, and he had never felt more alone than he did then, not three feet away from her. He felt his despondent heart beating feebly, begrudgingly, felt himself breathing in shuddering, irregular gasps, felt the will to live escaping from his pores. But he thought he might yet die from the despair that drowned him now, a helpless blight that refused to grant his besieged mind any refuge from dwelling upon the love that had been cruelly stolen from him. Free will vacated his thoughts and the wretchedness took over. Although her back was still turned to him, he could see nothing but Anna's face, fractured, as though from the viewpoint of a bug's eye, every copy sneering, glaring, cold and impassive, and now he saw hundreds of faces of Anna, all spitting upon him, endlessly looping. Is this what it's like to be dead? No, death is better, there's no feeling at all…

Yoh did not recall ever moving, but he found himself upstairs in the bathroom, no longer carrying the wallet, and his reflection made such an impression on him that his mind cleared for a second. The extent of his injuries didn't shock him much, but he saw the shiny streaks on his face where he had been crying. The sight of them seemed to grant him permission to stop biting his lip and bottling in his emotions. That's what Anna would do…oh, Anna…Anna…

Downstairs, Anna didn't hear Yoh's silent weeping, nor did she hear the soft pitter-patter of hot tears dripping onto tile. The hatred coursing through her veins made her temporarily deaf and incapable of rational thought. She did not hear the bloodcurdling howl that pierced the walls of the inn at that moment, did not see the confetti of a thoroughly shredded sheet of paper cascading to the floor in mock celebration. A flushed, blotchy hand clasped around the wallet someone had left on the table. It certainly wasn't her hand that launched it across the room at a handsomely framed portrait on the mantel. The sound of glass shattering, as piercing as the crystal shards that now pockmarked the wood floor, served to temper Anna's fury somewhat. The whiteness that blanketed her field of vision darkened, and she could see thousands of bits of glass, some of them tinted mauve where her lipstick had stained the pane. Lying atop the bed of shards was Yoh's portrait. She couldn't bear favoring it with a second glance.

She saw the wallet at that moment, at the far end of the room, propped upside-down against the wall. Mostly to distance herself from Yoh's ruined picture, she stalked over to it, snatching it up roughly, so that a wad of paper money serpentined out of it. She kicked it and sent a shower of hundred-yen notes briefly into the air. Pathetic, she thought, if he's going to get himself beaten to within an inch of his life, he could at least have mugged someone richer.

Taking a deep breath that made her diaphragm tingle, she sighed and sat before the table. Anna ran a finger down the thick pad of papers that remained in the compartment, and pulled them out. Coupons. Business cards. Receipts. An envelope…What is it with guys and envelopes? Well, I'm not touching that thing with a ten-foot bo staff. Fool me once, shame on you…

She ruffled the plastic cards that lined both sides of the leather billfold with her thumb, tumbling them onto the countertop. Library card, bus pass, a bunch of hotel keycards. Either this guy travels an awful lot, or he's a pervert…A condom slid out of the wallet then, in a battered, wrinkled pouch, to which Anna made a revolted noise. I knew it. Guys are all alike. At least by the looks of this thing, he hasn't had a chance to use one in at least several months…And a school ID…The photograph was blurry and about the size of her thumbnail, but she squinted at it; somehow it seemed slightly familiar. She turned the scuffed card towards the light and frowned at the kanji on its surface. "Shinra Private Academy, sophomore…"

She almost dropped the card. Yoh mugged someone in our class?! What in God's name is wrong with that kid? Shit, I have enough popularity problems without being known as the psychotic kid's fiancée…Her eyes narrowed as she attempted to discern the identity of the boy in the photograph, but it was hopeless. She turned her attention to the name beneath the picture—and nearly fell out of her chair.

Yoh mugged Daisuke?! But why? He's gotta be two hundred pounds, easy. And you can tell he's poor, every day he brings a sandwich for lunch in the same oil-stained paper bag. He takes a bite out of it and, with his mouth still full, keeps telling me how Yoh's a lazy bum, that I need someone like Daisuke instead, and he flexes his arm, like I'm supposed to be impressed that he can stand there for hours doing curls or whatever. God, what a douche. One of the only people I dislike more than Yoh.

But wait…

Did Yoh know about all this

No, he can't have…was just random chance, besides, even a big guy like Daisuke wouldn't be a match for Yoh, not when he's got Amidamaru in Harusame—

As if in response to her thoughts, the long velvet pouch that always sheathed Harusame appeared at the corner of her eye, tied shut at the top, the outline of the katana clearly visible through its folds. It had been there all evening while Yoh had been at the supermarket…

Something just doesn't add up! Why would Yoh write something so repugnant to me on the same day he decides to teach Daisuke a lesson? Does he hate me, is this all just remarkable coincidence, or…

Her eyes involuntarily drifted to the envelope, folded over at both ends from where it had been crammed into Daisuke's wallet. It was then she noticed its similarity to the one she had discovered not two hours ago when she made the beds out of boredom. And the handwriting on it was distinctly the barely legible scrawl she had grown to begrudgingly appreciate as Yoh's.

Could it be…I didn't think Daisuke had the brains to do something that devious, but then again, Yoh surprises me sometimes…

With trembling fingertips Anna tore open the envelope's flap, withdrawing from it a single sheet of cotton paper. In handwriting that was much nicer than she had expected, yet still familiarly slanted and curvaceous, she read:

--

Atop Funbari Hill in Tokyo

There is an Inn where you and I both go

Within its walls, we sleep, we drink, we eat

And from the windows, watch cars on the street.

--

Your gaze moves from the pane and on to me,

But without reason, none that I can see.

I wonder why you haven't touched your food;

I hope you're not in one of your bad moods.

--

Your eyes don't waver; still you stare in mine,

My breath is short; in truth, your eyes do shine.

Without a word, a grin sprouts on your lips,

Inside my chest, I feel my heartbeat skip.

--

Our meal proceeds without another hitch,

And while others say that you're a bitch,

That couldn't be more distant from the truth.

I'd never think of being so uncouth;

--

In fact, I treasure smiles from you more dear

Since I don't know the way to make one appear.

I wish you'd do it more, indeed, it's true,

So I thought this time to try something new.

--

Will this put a smile on your face?

I knew I shouldn't have tried this in the first place.

But I shall always try my best for you,

To see that smile, as fresh as morning dew…

--

I'm tired now, these rhymes have all been done,

I've energy for more, but barely. Just this one:

As now, I feel as though I'm out of mana

It matters not, because I love you, Anna.

--

A foreign sensation of weightlessness seized Anna's chest, and she saw butterflies flitting in her field of vision as an onslaught of blood rushed to her head. Warmth such that she had never come close to experiencing before engulfed her every cell, and it showed upon her face. There was a definite radiance to Anna in that moment, as she closed her enraptured, watery eyes and embraced the sheet of cotton paper, but she knew what she truly wanted to hold in her arms that very second…

Without caring, or even pondering, that the occupant of the bathroom was probably midway into a much-needed shower, Anna charged the door. It flew open without resistance, and steam billowed out into the hallway. Through the sticky veil of mist she stepped toward where she knew the shower curtain was, blinded by the thick steam as well as the passion that was pounding at the sinews of her heart, begging for release. She barely noticed her foot snag something warm…

The cascading hot water in the shower concealed the fact that Yoh was sitting on the bare floor next to the sink. Loud splashes of water muffled his crying, the towel snaked in his lap occasionally absorbing a tear. He opened his puffy eyes and his head nearly collided with the sink behind him. "A-Anna...I…"

Anna stifled a gasp. As she saw Yoh's face up close, her heart sped ever faster. Both of his eyes were swollen with sorrow; the left one was additionally burdened from a nicely progressing shiner. Trellises of vermillion traced their way down his lips onto his chin where blood had coagulated.

"Yoh. I said a lot of stupid things. I was wrong. I'm sorry."

The words were succinct and spoken without betraying any emotion—classic Anna. But her manner of speech was betrayed by her wide, tearing eyes and the lock of black hair she was straightening with her fingers. She gently placed her hands at either side of Yoh's torso, feeling his fine arm hairs tickling her palms as she helped him to his feet. Perhaps it was the steam, or maybe Anna's unbridled passion, but she failed to notice Yoh's towel had been lost on the floor…

"But I guess I was right about one thing." She ran her hand beneath the showerhead and dabbed at the dried blood on his face with moist fingertips. "You were paying attention when they taught us about poetry." Anna's hands slid down Yoh's sides, taking up residence upon his slick back, and he found himself mimicking her, worrying that his skin would blister from the heat she radiated…

Yoh still had not spoken a word. He had simply stared at Anna's face, matching her rarefied affectionate expression with one of shock. He opened his mouth once more, this time certain that words of some sort would vocalize in his throat, but the surprise of her sudden change of heart was too much. He felt the caked blood on his face wash away at her marvelously warm, gentle touch, and now Anna closed her eyes, and he closed his, still thinking of words to say as her tongue lapped at the dried salty rivulets that had trickled from his tear ducts…

Inspiration finally struck him then, as the blood within him neared the boiling point. He felt preternaturally hot, and he attributed it neither to the steam that suffused the room, nor to the passionate tongue that, even now, was lapping up his sorrow. The heat was something else—the manifestation of something that both he and Anna had known and felt furtively for the longest time. His voice was hoarse but he finally knew what to say. He whispered, "Anna…I love—"

"I know," she whispered back. And at that moment Anna's tongue glided across from his cheek to dance upon his lips. He reflexively opened his, and immediately felt as though the roof of his mouth was roasting over a campfire. A pure heat flooded his mouth, one that was both unbearable yet impossible to live without, and as he felt the coolness of her tongue he gasped slightly in relief but moaned softly for more. She obliged him willingly, and Anna could feel, could taste, the longing in Yoh's mouth just as surely as he could taste the contrition in hers. Her top clung to her chest and back, but Yoh, unable to see through the shroud of steam, contented himself with feeling her contours against his bare chest. She felt his every scar upon his shoulders, down the backs of his arms, and then she felt something else, too, a hardness that pressed and pulsed against her abdomen…

They drew their faces back slightly and exchanged meaningful looks. Yoh saw the passion in her eyes, certainly, as she groped around the sink, picking up a heavily creased, hermetically sealed packet from off the top of the poem. But he saw, beneath the bravado she was demonstrating as she tore the packet open with her teeth, something intermingled with the passion…uncertainty…fear…

The heat that crawled over Yoh's skin dissipated almost immediately as he detected the hesitance in her eyes. He shook his head gently. "No. I don't think you're…we're ready."

The uncertainty and fear vanished from her expression. She looked down into the cleft of Yoh's collarbone, and she nestled her head in the warm crook of his neck. His hand began combing her flaxen hair as he continued, "Anna, there's no point in making love when we're both already in love."

It was Anna's turn to grope for words that would not come. They exchanged another set of looks, and neither one looked apprehensive this time, although both pairs of eyes still smoldered with passion…She slowly began to kneel before Yoh, and reached out into the billowing steam, nervous, but at the same time absolutely certain of what she was going to do. Yoh gave a little gasp of surprise but, this time, did not stop her as she clasped her hand around her target and gave her lips a preparatory lick…

-----------------------------------

The "true" ending to this story can be found by going to my author page and reading the last chapter of my story, "When Worlds Collide." (I'm not allowed to include a link here; that's why you'll have to do a little digging on your own to find it.)

Be advised it's strictly M-rated, enough so for me to not include it here...If you do read it, let me know what you think!