Author's Note:  My heartfelt thanks to all who have read and/or reviewed this humble bit of fanfiction.  This is the final chapter; if you'd like some background music for it, I'd suggest "The Long Day Is Over" by Norah Jones, "Forever" by Vertical Horizon, or "Into the West" by Annie Lennox (from the Return of the King soundtrack).  All three were on repeat while I was writing, and each fits the subject matter and mood of various passages.  And I suppose that's all I have to say.  A wonderful new year to you all, and best wishes in all your endeavors, fanfiction or otherwise.   --Ryuen

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-3-

"Houjun?"

Having sponged the last drops of moisture from his cheeks, Houjun tucked the tissue into his robe pocket and looked up.  Ryuuen—who by this point had returned the packet of Kleenex to his own pocket—was studying him with eyes that shone with brotherly compassion; he waited until the former monk had drawn a few deep breaths before he spoke.

"This might seem like a silly thing to ask, but…how old are you?"

A simple enough question, and yet he found himself floundering for the answer.  "Twenty-two," he managed at last—and hid a look of utter astonishment behind his cup, wincing as the cooled, too-sweet tea filled his mouth.

Twenty-two.  Still young.  Still at the start of his life—barely begun.  God, a little over six months ago, he'd been finishing up his senior year of college, going to the movies with Kouran, playing silly video games with Hikou, and working part time at a book store.  Every other Saturday was spent with his father and grandfather, fishing on the lake near his childhood home and listening to Grandfather's stories—often of his time at a Buddhist monastery in China, though more frequently of the precious year and a half he'd been married to Houjun's grandmother. 

She was the love of my life, he would conclude every time, his dark eyes gleaming and fixed on the water.  When she died, everyone told me what a tragedy it was, that two people so in love should be parted after so short a time together, but I never understood why they would say that.  I was so lucky to have had even that much time with her.

"Twenty-two."  It was Ryuuen who spoke the words this time, his voice quiet and thoughtful.  "You seem…a lot older."

"I know," Houjun murmured.  "I feel…"  He strained for the right word for a moment, then let a soft breath puff through his lips as he found it.  "Ancient.  I feel ancient."

"And ready to die?"

The former monk met his companion's gaze in surprise, then sighed and—despite knowing it had gone cold—downed the last of his tea.  "I don't know," he said truthfully.  "A few months ago, yes.  Without question.  But now?  I'm not sure.  Master Jiu taught many lessons on making peace with death, but I don't think that's the same as being so miserable that death seems like the only option."

"No," Ryuen said quietly.  "No, it's not the same.  When Kourin…  When she died, I could see the…regret in her eyes.  Like she was apologizing for leaving me.  But there was…there was peace there, too.  She didn't want to leave me, but she knew that she had to.  And I think that…well, that no matter how old or young you are, you always leave something—or someone—behind when you die.  Your life is always unfinished, even at the end, and so maybe…maybe finding peace isn't about finishing everything you have to do, but about accepting that you really never can."

Somewhere outside a bird called, long and low. 

When she died, everyone told me what a tragedy it was, that two people so in love should be parted after so short a time together, but I never understood why they would say that.  I was so lucky to have had even that much time with her…

But it was a tragedy! his mind couldn't help protesting.  Losing someone so soon—finding true love and then not being able to hold onto it… 

But at least he found it.  At least…at least I found it, even if I couldn't hold onto it.  Even if I lost everything…everyone who mattered…everyone I depended on…

"I wonder if they found peace," he heard himself whisper.  A warm breeze teased the hairs on his arms, and for a moment, closing his eyes, he could pretend that delicate, familiar fingers danced over his skin.  "Their deaths were so…quick.  So bloody.  And we'd…we'd been arguing…"  The gentle wind caress died, and a fresh onslaught of tears choked him.  "What if they didn't know?  What if they didn't know that I…that I always…?"

"They knew," Ryuuen said firmly.  A gentle, teasing smile touched his lips, and his voice dropped to a fond  whisper.  "Baka.  Ten minutes of arguing can't undo a lifetime of friendship."     

Houjun shook his head.  "But it was my—  If I hadn't been so cold with Hikou, he…he would never have…"

"Houjun," Ryuuen said in a stern voice, and despite the brevity of their acquaintance, the weight of years—lifetimes—of friendship filled his tone.  "Did you want Hikou to die?"

"No!"  The word burst from his lips like a shriek.  "No, of course not!"

Soft, unpainted lips spread into a smile, and a warm hand closed over his own.  "Then it's not your fault, is it?"

"But I—"

"No.  No matter what you did or said, his death was out of your control.  If you could have, you'd have saved him, but you couldn't, and so it wasn't your fault.  Houjun.  It wasn't.  your.  fault."

Clarity filled him like a sudden spray of sunlight, and he looked up into Ryuuen's face with eyes still misty with tears.  "And it wasn't your fault, either."

Ryuuen froze at the words, his fingers going tense over Houjun's knuckles; after a moment, he sank back into his chair, one hand drifting tremulously to the wispy ends of his hair.  He drew a dark lock into his fingers, thumb and forefinger sliding over the silky hairs with a lover's delicacy, his features caught in a mix of loss and wonderment. 

"Kourin…used to always say how jealous she was of my hair," he murmured after a time.  "I always wore it long so she could play with it.  She loved brushing it.  Braiding it.  Putting it up in barrettes.  She used to say that she was glad I…that I wasn't a girl, because then all the boys would've fallen in love with me and ignored her."  A flash of a grin, then Ryuuen's face tilted down to the mottled ceramic of his tea cup.  "I-I never told her, but…I used to wish that I had been a girl—not so I could steal away her boyfriends, but so we could be as close as sisters and…and not feel guilty about it.  If we'd been sisters, no one would've minded if we spent all our time together and Tousan wouldn't have…"  His cheeks flushed.  "He wouldn't have been so…disappointed in me."

Sniffling, Ryuuen rescued a tissue from his pocket and dabbed it under his eyes.  "I know, I know," he said with a valiant attempt at a grin.  "Issues stacked upon issues.  It'd take a hundred lifetimes to sort through them all."

Houjun's voice was very soft.  "Maybe that's what we've been given."  At Ryuuen's confused frown, he shook his head and continued.  "Lifetimes, to sort through this.  To grow.  It would make sense.  This all feels so…"

"Familiar?"

"Yes.  Maybe that's because whatever the lesson is, we haven't learned it yet."

"And so, what?  We're doomed to lose the people we love again and again until we figure it out?"

A trickle of knowledge, like cool clear water, filtered into his mind, and a torrent of words spilled from it and onto his lips  "But we lose them again and again no matter what.  No matter who we are or who we love, either we lose them or they lose us.  Always.  There's no way around it.  It's not…it's not about how many years we have together or how full of a life we live in that time, because no matter when we lose them, it will feel sudden.  It will hurt.  Because—"  He closed his eyes.  "Because there's only now.  There's only this moment.  One inch ahead, and all is total darkness.  Nothing is for certain, and whatever happens, the only way to get through it is to live it.  To be in every single moment.  Feel every bit of pain.  Grief.  Happiness."

…I was so lucky to have had even that much time with her… 

He laughed suddenly, his eyes wet with tears.  "I was so lucky," he managed through a choking blend of laughter and sobs.  "I was so lucky to have her in my life for all those years.  To have them both.  I was so…lucky."

I tried for so long to hide from it.  To hide from their memories.  Why did I do that?  Why would I ever want to forget anything about them?

He remembered, suddenly, the way Kouran's eyes wrinkled when she laughed, the crooked grin Hikou got on his face every time he was about to do something phenomenally stupid.  He remembered long, hot, lazy summers spent swimming, fishing, squirting each other with sunscreen, racing bikes through sun-burnished fields, building tree houses, pretending to be on grand adventures that somehow always ended in magnificent sword battles, camping out on the rocky ground with stars peppering the sky above them, a thermos of hot chocolate to keep them warm, and enough stories and games to keep them awake and giggling until dawn.  He remembered going on secret late-night walks, sneaking past dark windows and sleeping dogs, leaping for the bushes like spies every time a car rumbled down the nearby road.  He remembered Hikou's passion for drawing despite a significant lack of talent; Kouran's need to protect all living things, whether person, animal, flower, or insect; Hikou's secret love of romantic tear-jerkers; Kouran's long, graceful strides that he had to work to keep up with; Hikou's startling insight into the thoughts and psyches of his friends; Kouran's love of chocolate; Hikou's unflappable (and often irritating) optimism; Kouran's vanilla-scented shampoo; Hikou's tattered red T-shirt, worn at least three times every week; Kouran's soft, sweet voice that lifted in laughter so light and musical that it made his heart ache…

God.  He had almost twenty years of memories of them.  Twenty years.  Twenty years that he'd been ready to dismiss…why?  Because they had died?  Because he had lost them?

My God, I've been so stupid.

Just because they're gone, that makes their lives worthless?  That makes our time together mean nothing?

"Ryuuen," he said, and was astonished at the quiet strength in his voice, "did you love your sister?"

A startled silence, then:  "Yes.  Very much."

Houjun rose slowly to his feet, already tasting the spicy-sweet warmth of his mother's banana bread, hearing the gravelly rumble of his father's laughter from the living room.  If he left tomorrow morning, he could be home in two days, sitting at the edge of the lake with the dying sunlight on his shoulders and the water lapping at his toes.  It would be a new semester soon; he could register for the classes he'd never finished, graduate… Live.  Suddenly, there was nothing he wanted more in the world than that.

"Then don't forget her," he told Ryuuen softly.  "Her life isn't gone just because she died.  Death doesn't change anything but the future, and…and we never had that to begin with."

~*~

6 months later

The stones had been placed in neighboring plots at the lower east edge of the cemetery.  Sturdy, stretching oaks shaded them, leaking through only mottled patches of sunlight, and a small stream bubbled noisily from behind the trees.  The stones themselves had been well-cared for, their gritty surfaces routinely scrubbed, the flower beds beneath them watered and weeded, and over the past year a carpet of thick, lush grass had grown in over the bare earth. 

As Houjun halted before the graves, Ryuuen's hand a warm, comforting weight in his fingers, he couldn't help clutching the twin bundles of flowers closer to his chest.  It had been a year ago, today, that his life had changed forever, and while he had found remarkable peace, contentment, and happiness during that year, his chest still ached at the unfairness of his friends' loss.  He began to wonder, again, where he might be, what he might be doing were they still alive—but one glance back at Ryuuen shattered those thoughts in a heartbeat.

Ryuuen, his dearest friend, who he would never have met if not for this tragedy.  Ryuuen, who might still be suffocating under the shadow of his family's death if not for their meeting—who might never have let go of his sister's ghost and begun to live as himself again. 

"Thanks for coming with me," Houjun said softly, taking in the younger man's closely-cropped hair, white dress shirt, and blue jeans with a slight smile.  "I know you probably have studying to do."

Ryuuen grinned and shook his head.  "Nah, I'll be fine.  It's only my first semester here—I've got three and a half years to get my grades to a decent level.  …and anyway, it's the least I can do.  I seem to remember someone visiting a cemetery with me some time ago."  His eyes narrowed slightly in study of Houjun's head.  "Though he had a bit less hair."

Houjun smiled.  "Actually, I was thinking of shaving it off again.  I don't know if you've noticed, but my hair has a bad habit of…"

"Trying to defy gravity?"

"Exactly.  So instead of drowning it in gel so it will lie flat…"

"Shave it off.  Mm, I see your point.  Well, maybe I'll try it with you."

Houjun arched an eyebrow.  "You'll try it with me," he echoed flatly.  "You'll shave your head."

"Don't you dare," came a booming voice from behind them.

Turning, the two found Saihitei standing with arms crossed tautly over his chest, long chestnut hair tumbling over his broad shoulders.  His eyes were narrowed, his brows slanting downwards—but a fond smile played at his lips when he spoke again. 

"I refuse to date anyone with such blatant disregard for his hair."

Ryuuen raised a hand to his chest in mock astonishment.  "You mean…you'll break up with me if I shave my head?"

Saihitei smiled, though he managed to look stern as he nodded.  "I most certainly will."  He tilted his head, considering.  "Though another weekend in that wonderful spa in the mountains might change my mind."

"Oh, get a fucking room," growled the redhead who stood a few feet to Saihitei's right.  "And Houjun, for fuck's sake, if you're not gay, stop holdin' Ryuuen's hand."

Ryuuen only smiled and wrapped his other hand over his and Houjun's clasped fingers.  "Don't worry," he confided to the former monk.  "He's just jealous."

"The hell I am!"

"Genrou," said Saihitei firmly, "this is a cemetery.  They generally discourage the shouting of obscenities."

"I don't see any fucking signs."

As the argument escalated, Houjun drew his hand gently from Ryuuen's, took a small step forward, and knelt between the graves.  Closing his eyes, he allowed himself a moment to bring Kouran's image before his eyes, to hear her laughter, feel the sweet warmth of her lips.  Next, he turned his thoughts to Hikou, seeing the other man so clearly that for a moment, he thought he might be able to stretch out a hand and touch his shoulder…

"Will you two be quiet?!" Ryuuen bellowed, his words rising impressively above both Saihitei's and Genrou's voices.  "Jesus, this is a cemetery!"

The images of Hikou and Kouran lingered for a moment more, their lips forming warm, familiar smiles…and then their faces faded like old photographs, and there was only darkness. 

No.  No, not darkness.  New faces, rising like the first golden rays of dawn in the east.

He left the flowers between the graves, the petals already wilting in the dazzling afternoon sunshine.  They would be pale and shriveled the next time he came here, their stems ready to sink into the earth and be renewed, but for now he just enjoyed their beauty:  soft purple petals in a bed of velvety green…

Then he climbed to his feet, turned, and faced his friends. 

He couldn't help smiling.

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The world is round

and the place which

may seem like the end

may also be the beginning.

--Ivy Baker Priest

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Owari.