**C&C is very welcome! I always want feedback, even if it's just dropping a line and saying, 'Hey, I read your fic.' Email me at saezuru@hotmail.com if you want to say anything. Thanks for reading!**
Part Seven
Aya-chan lay in her bed, staring up at the ceiling with a blank expression on her delicate face. She
had been propped up in a sitting position, but had slid down so that only her shoulders and neck
were supported by the pillow.
Everything hurts . . . she thought weakly, as a chill ran through her fevered body. My head hurts
so much from coughing, and my chest is on fire with every breath I take. My fingers and hands
and feet feel swollen from lying down for so long. If it weren't for Sakura, I think I'd give up and
just stop breathing to end this pain. She turned her head minutely so she could look towards
where Sakura sat in a chair, dozing quietly as she watched over Aya-chan as she had been for the
past two and a half days, ever since she'd returned from working in the flower shop on the first
day of her illness to find Aya retching in the bathroom because of her interminable coughing fits.
I don't think I've ever been so sick before in my life, Aya thought distantly. And certainly never
without Ran to help me. She felt her eyes prick slightly, and she blinked her eyes to keep from
crying. Ran-oniichan . . . why did you leave me here like this?
She stifled a sob, which triggered another coughing fit. Sakura stirred and opened her eyes,
reddened from lack of sleep. Aya say anything to her, and could only pray for quiet as her frail
body shook from coughing. Eventually, after what felt like an eternity, the coughs subsided and
she could breath again. Each breath was becoming more painful than the last, as if the air was on
fire and every breath she took was torturing her abused lungs.
"Sa-Sakura," she croaked, mustering the strength to stretch a hand out to the girl, "Please . . ."
It wasn't a request for anything so much as it was a request for peace. A request for a night of
sleep uninterrupted by pain, for being able to breath without wishing she were dead. The pain
mirrored in Sakura's eyes could not give her that respite; her sympathy couldn't bring Aya's
brother to her.
Sakura swallowed as she woke to see Aya-chan in the throes of yet another coughing spasm. She
was almost afraid to open her eyes-- every time she looked, Aya was thinner and frailer, paler
and nearly transparent. Her fever had risen over the past few days, and now it was nearly a
hundred and four degrees. And even as Sakura berated herself for falling asleep again, she was
afraid to awaken to the familiar sound of lung-wrenching coughs, afraid to see the poor girl in so
much pain. She could only watch while Aya's thin body shook violently from her coughs, and she
could only sit there until they subsided once more.
"Sa-Sakura . . . please . . ."
Sakura refocused her glazed eyes and saw Aya-chan staring at her with a pleading look in her
eyes. Sakura swallowed, her guilt washing over her. How could I have neglected her, so that she
could sink to this state? How could I betray Aya-kun like this, and let his sister, his flesh-and-blood, my responsibility, grow this ill? Her own guilt must have shown in her eyes, for Aya
collapsed back into the cradle of her pillows with a gurgling, painful-sounding sigh, and lay still,
the shallow rising and falling of her chest the only sign that she wasn't dead.
I can only hope she can fall asleep this time . . .
The door to the basement banged shut, and Omi jerked his head up from the computer with an
angry intake of breath. "That has to be Ken," he murmured to himself with a sigh as he turned
from the computer. Ken was stumbling down the stairs, two big grocery bags in his arms. He
tripped on the very last step, tumbling downwards, and managing to catch himself at the very last
minute. His shoes lost grip on the floor and he skidded, until he hit the couch and was stopped.
Reika appeared from the hallway, clad in a bathrobe with a towel around her head, her eyes
widened slightly with alarm. "What's going on?" She paused, surveying the scene. Finally, she
grinned slightly, saying, "Never mind, I can answer my own question . . . Ken went shopping for
me again, didn't he?"
Ken's face split into a lopsided, if slightly dazed grin. "Y-Yeah. We don't need to eat, but you
do."
Reika nodded, hiding a teasing grin. "Yes, thank you . . . of course, that doesn't mean you have
to fly headfirst down the stairs. For an angel, you're awfully clumsy in flight."
Ken flushed slightly, depositing the slightly battered paper bags on the coffee table. "Bread,
peanut butter, apples, juice boxes, lettuce . . ." He paused long enough to brush his tousled brown
hair out of his eyes before saying, "Think you can survive for a while on all this stuff?"
Omi spoke up with a grin, "Well, if she couldn't, I'd think there was something wrong with her.
You've got enough food there to feed an army."
Youji appeared in the hallway, rubbing at his eyes blearily, wearing only a pair of his typical black
jeans and a jacket tossed over his shoulder. "Stupid, clumsy, bloody idiot . . ." he muttered. "You
made enough noise falling down those stairs to rouse that army you just bought a week's rations
for." He paused, shooting the boy a hard look. "You did pay for it this time, didn't you?"
Ken nodded hastily. "Yes, yes . . . I made sure to. And I told you, last time it was a mistake. I got
distracted and forgot to get in line, and because of these abilities of ours I guess I just went
unnoticed by the cashiers."
Youji shook his head in exasperation and shrugged into his jacket, not bothering to put a shirt on
underneath. "Well, I'm going out."
Ken raised an eyebrow. "Where to?"
Youji grinned broadly. "You honestly don't want to know, Ken-kun . . . unless, of course, you're
dying to know what on earth I would want a mortal girl's phone number for . . ." The lewd, sly
grin on his face made Ken blush and turn away.
Omi suddenly stood up, raising a hand as if to stop the playboy. "Youji, wait-- you can't--"
Youji frowned at the younger boy, puzzled. "Can't what? You've never had an attack of morals
before this. What's wrong with you now?" Omi swallowed, glancing briefly at the darkened
computer screen, but it was enough of a look to be noticed.
"You've found something, haven't you?" Aya stood in doorway, his dark violet eyes narrowed.
Omi swallowed and nodded. "Yes-- information in general. You should really hear it before you
go out, Youji."
Youji made a show of turning on his heel and flopping down in a chair. "Fine, fine, spit it out . . .
you're making me late, you know, and it's a very important date."
Omi rolled his eyes and sat down on the floor, cross-legged. "Okay . . ." His eyes drifted towards
Reika, who was standing off to one side, her eyes bright with curiosity.
She stared back at him for a moment, taking in his slightly apologetic attitude and closed mouth,
until she realized what he was trying to do. "Oh, I see . . . I'll just go dry my hair and get dressed
while you talk about this." If Omi thought it was something she didn't need to know, than Reika
was more than willing to bypass that knowledge.
Omi waited until the sound of Reika's door shutting signified her departure, and then began.
"Alright. I've sort of figured out what might be triggering this all. First of all, we're angels, and
the members of Schwartz are all demons-- right?" He paused, waiting for confirmation, and then
continued. "And angels are symbols of ultimate good, and demons of ultimate evil."
Ken waved a hand impatiently. "Yes, yes, we know that already. What's your point?"
Omi shot Ken a quick glare, before continuing, "I know, just hold on a sec. Throughout the ages,
in stories from just about every culture there is, Good has always been locked in an eternal
struggle with Evil. A sort of struggle to determine the fate of mankind, its ultimate destination--
heaven, or hell. To determine this fate, Good and Evil have had . . . well, in a way, almost
competitions against one another, to test which was more powerful."
Ken sighed. "So what does that have to do with us?"
Omi echoed Ken's sigh, his face growing slightly troubled. "I'm not entirely sure. I'm guessing,
however, that this conflict between us and Schwartz may very well be one of those matches. And
to have a fair competition, there must be rules."
"Rules?" Youji made a face.
Omi nodded. "One side cannot be more powerful than the other. But there also has to be
limitations. There is no totally good human being; meaning, there is no one, alive or dead, who
has never committed at least one sin. Therefore Good would have a little trouble in finding
humans able to fulfill the roles of angels. Everyone has sinned, however, so Evil would have no
problem."
Aya spoke up quietly, his face shadowed and impassive. "So when two groups-- one fighting for
Good, one for Evil-- died on the same night, the opportunity was too good to pass up."
Omi nodded again, confirming Aya's guess. "Exactly. Now, think about this-- demons are
creatures of shadow, of no substance. They have to possess human bodies in order to exist in this
world, rather than in Hell. We've seen this with Schwartz. But because of the strict rules set up
between Good and Evil, a demon's angel counterpart should be a being of pure light--" Here he
stopped, lifting a hand. "And yet, we're as solid as other people."
Youji frowned. "Couldn't they have just stuck us as light-beings or whatever you call them back
in our own bodies again? Like possession, only not in a living human being?"
Omi shook his head. "No, our bodies are still in the morgue, next to Schwartz's-- remember?"
He glanced back at the computer. "This is where my guessing gets really sketchy. We've all
sinned, many times, and badly. Killing someone is possibly the greatest sin of all." Omi flinched
then, feeling the guilt of his former life, but continued without a trace of such a sentiment in his
voice. "So there's no way we could be angels." He took a deep breath, before saying, "Therefore,
we aren't angels. We're simply somewhere in between."
Youji got up from his chair to pace across the room. "But how is that fair? How can we, a bunch
of half-mortal, half-immortal creatures, possibly have a fair fight with a group of demons?"
Omi shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe that's why we have our powers. But I do know that this
state of in-between is very, very fragile. We can't sin, or else we'll be destroyed. We'll be worse
than dead-- our souls will be forfeit, and Evil will win this match." He shot Youji a hard glare.
"That's why I stopped you from going out."
Youji scowled, and muttered, "K'sou . . . Damned powers that be, taking all the fun out of the
afterlife . . ." He sat back down.
Ken spoke up then, his face dark. "So what is this going to come down to, in the end?"
Omi winced, looking genuinely bewildered. "I honestly have no idea. Perhaps there will be some
grand, climactic battle. Or maybe it'll just be to see how long we can hold on without some major
sin."
Ken shook his head, "No, I mean, how are we supposed to get rid of them? Exorcism?"
Omi swallowed, and spoke out of a mouth suddenly gone dry, "No-- you see, there's no way for
them to exorcize us, because we're not possessing anything. The only way they can get rid of us
is to kill us-- therefore, to keep that fragile balance of equality, the only way we're allowed to get
rid of them is to kill them."
Youji burst out angrily, "But that's a sin! Damn it all, if I'm not allowed to sin just a little bit, how
come we're allowed to all commit this huge one?" He paused in his tirade, falling silent as he saw
the look on Omi's face.
"It is a sin," Omi agreed. "And so the only way to destroy the sinners is to destroy ourselves, with
sin." He paused, letting this sink in, and grinned weakly. "Ironic, isn't it?"
A voice interrupted them, as Reika poked her head around the corner. "Are you all done? I'm sort
of hungry."
Youji sighed and got up from his chair. "As done as we'll ever be-- there's no use beating this
into the ground." He headed towards the stairs, zipping his jacket halfway. "I'm still going to go
out. And not," he added, when he saw the look Ken was giving him, "for what you think-- I'm
sick and tired of being down this hole." And with that, he disappeared up the stairway, taking the
stairs two at a time.
Reika just looked rather puzzled, but headed over towards the grocery bags that were still on the
table. She began to take things out of them, making small noises to herself at some of the items.
Omi got to his feet and headed once more towards his computer, and Ken stood up and began to
pace, oozing impatient energy from every pore. Aya just stayed leaning against the wall near the
computer, his face impassive as usual, his eyes scanning the room. After a few moments, Ken
came over to Omi's computer and leaned over his shoulder, asking quietly, "Do you actually think
you're going to find anything else in there?"
Omi sighed forlornly, looking very much like the young boy he was. "No, not really," he admitted
truthfully. "But it's something to do while we wait."
Ken grimaced and started to reply, but got cut off as Aya suddenly raised a hand to stop him.
"Look," said the redhead quietly. "Doesn't she look familiar to you?"
Omi blinked at Aya for a few moments until he realized who he was talking about. Turning, he
watched Reika unpack groceries for a few seconds, before giving Aya an odd look. "Reika? No,
who does she remind you of?"
Ken, however, was staring intently at her. Just after Omi finished speaking, he said, "That girl . . .
she looks like that Schrient woman. N . . . Neu?"
Omi's eyes widened, and he turned once more to stare at the oblivious Reika as well. "And Neu
was the one who looked like Asuka . . . for all we know, who might have been Asuka . . ."
Ken sighed. "This rather solves one mystery . . ." He shook his head. "We know why Youji's
been acting so oddly, anyway."
Omi chewed on his lip, with a vaguely worried expression on his face. "Shouldn't we tell her?"
Ken nodded. "Probably. She deserves to know that much, at least." He paused, glancing towards
the stairs. "And have you noticed that no new flowers have come into the shop for several days?"
Omi's eyes narrowed, his face confused. "That must mean that Aya-chan and Sakura-chan aren't
working in the shop . . ."
Muscles in Aya's jaw tightened minutely, and there was a pause before he spoke. "Something's
wrong."
Omi sighed. "We don't have time to figure out what's wrong up there, Aya . . . It's probably just
financial problems. They'll deal with it, they're both smart."
Aya just looked towards the stairs for a moment before he clenched his fists, turned, and headed
back down the hallway towards his room.
The doctor removed the stethoscope from Aya-chan's chest, and slowly got up from his kneeling
position. He avoided Sakura's eyes as he wrote something down on the file, pursing his lips in
thought.
Sakura abandoned all pretense of polite patience and asked, "Well? What's wrong with her?"
The doctor sighed and made one last note on his clipboard before looking up from the papers to
Sakura's face, his expression grim. "She's got the symptoms of pneumonia. The disease is
progressing abnormally quickly. How long has she been sick, again?"
Sakura ignored the icy fist of fear that had suddenly closed around her heart and responded, "I'm
not sure . . . five, maybe six days?"
The doctor nodded slowly. "But she's only recently been coughing up blood?"
Sakura bit her lip and nodded, replying, "It was the blood that made up my mind for me that I
needed to get her to a doctor."
The doctor smiled slightly, saying as warmly as he could, "Well, you did right getting someone
who could come here, rather than trying to get her to a doctor. The winter air outside would be
the worst thing for her."
Sakura nodded. Then, closing her eyes for a moment to gather the courage to speak, she asked,
"Will she die?"
The doctor didn't respond immediately. After a few, impossibly long moments of heavy silence,
he said, "I'm not sure. She should start taking the antibiotics right away, though I'm not sure if
they'll get to her system fast enough. This illness is strangely fast-moving-- you're sure she has
neither HIV nor AIDS?"
Sakura nodded, puzzled. "I'm positive."
"Leukemia?"
Sakura shook her head, saying, "No, none of that. Why?"
The doctor looked back down at his notes with a sigh. "She must have an abnormally weakened
immune system for pneumonia to move this fast. The only things I can think of that would cause
this would be AIDS, or leukemia. You're sure nothing has happened to her that could possibly
lower her immune system?"
Sakura started to respond as she had before, when something occurred to her. "She was in a
coma, as a result of a car accident . . . could that have done it?"
The doctor looked up. "Possibly; we still don't know everything there is to know about what
happens to the body during a coma. Perhaps she's lost part of herself as a result, and is giving up
hope and therefore giving up her will to survive. If she loses faith, not even antibiotics and
modern medicine can bring her back from it."
Sakura nodded, although in her mind she was thinking something else. Lost a part of herself? Of
course she has . . . I'm no substitute for her oniichan . . . Instead, she replied, "Thank you,
doctor, for taking the time to come here."
The doctor nodded and put his tools back in his bag. "Here," he said, writing off a prescription
and handing it to Sakura. "Have her take one tablet twice a day, once in the morning and once in
the evening. This should last for a week and a half, after which you'll have no need of it. She'll
either have responded well to the medicine and recovered, or . . ." The doctor didn't finish his
statement-- he didn't need to.
Sakura swallowed and nodded, before seeing the doctor down the stairs and out the door of the
flower-shop with a blank expression on her face. She glanced around the empty and darkened
shop, her tired eyes taking in the dead and wilting flowers in the bouquet holders, and the potted
plants dry from lack of watering. God . . . Ran, I'm so sorry. You left her to me and I didn't take
care of her. Please-- someone, anyone, don't let her die . . .
Now that the doctor was gone, the energy that had sustained her throughout the visit, and had
kept her from falling apart, drained out of her in a rush. Her legs trembled beneath her and she
kneeled on the cold wooden floor, and cried. She cried for the dead flowers, for Aya-chan sick
upstairs, unable to get out of bed. She cried for Ran and the ghost that haunted her subconscious
with guilt, like the phantom perfume of dead roses that still lingered about the shop. But, most of
all, Sakura cried for herself.
Chapter 7, written in a day, when it took me . . . 3 months to get out Ch. 6? ^^;; That's what
summer vacation does for ya. And, of course, Ch. 7 is a little chapter. Hmm . . . yeah, I made up
all that weird theology stuff on my own, with only marginal help from Piers Anthony's
"Incarnations of Immortality" series. o.o;; If it doesn't make sense, drop me an email and let me
know, and I can try to rewrite it so it's more understandable . . . Thanks for reading!
*eyes comment form* You must comment! *wiggles fingers in a mystical fashion* You want to
comment . . . you know you do . . . do not fight this desire! Accept it! Fill out the comment form!
^_~