Note1: I can't believe it's finally finished. It's been a really great experience to write this. It was my first
fanfiction, and IMO, it turned out pretty well. I hope that all of you have enjoyed reading it. Thanks to everyone who
encouraged me and sent me reviews and threatening emails (:+), especially Lady Vorgunby and Charlemage. Now I go work on
some of my other fic ideas!
Note2: Everlasting pea - go not away; Hyacinth - sorrow
Chapter 13: Epilogue
"Youji," Aya said.
Youji paused in mid-stride. "Nani?"
Aya sat on the couch, staring down at the ground. "What . . . happened that night?" His voice was strange, halfway between a sob and a whisper.
Youji sat down heavily next to him. It had been a few weeks, but he knew he would remember that night until he died. "We thought you were dead. Well, except Schuldich, I guess. He told me to go wake you up while he distracted Makoto. Then, all of a sudden, you stood up and, well . . ." he searched for the words, "you were different."
"I was different," Aya repeated.
They sat in silence.
"He hasn't come back, has he?" Youji asked, picking at a loose thread in the couch cushion.
Aya's hand went involuntarily to his cheek. He traced the scars. "No, he hasn't."
Youji turned to face him. "Good."
Aya kept his eyes on the floor. "Aa." He could feel Youji's eyes on him. They burned.
"You saved us Aya, you really did." Youji shifted again, digging in his pocket for a cigarette.
No, he saved you. And me. Aya stood abruptly. "You're all I have left," he said softly. He strode out of the room without looking back.
~*~*~*~
He closed his eyes as the cool breeze caressed his face. Up on the roof was still his sanctuary. It had been three weeks. Three long weeks. He let out a long, deep breath and stared at the city below him. His hand crept to his cheek as his thoughts drifted to the samurai that had saved him. Saved him, and saved his friends. The scars were fading now. He bowed his head in grief for the two girls who had died. Why? he thought. Why did she have to . . .
A hand covered his as it gripped the railing. He snatched it away as if it burned. "Don't touch me," he ground out through clenched teeth. Still looking down, he said, "Leave me alone, Yotan," softer, more apologetic.
"Yotan, is it? You two are getting awful close." Schuldich grinned.
Aya clenched his fists. "Get out of here."
"I think we got off on the wrong foot." Schuldich ran a hand through his unruly hair. "I just wanted to say . . . " he trailed off and shifted uneasily. "Well, shit, Aya, I'm sorry about your sister."
Aya's head snapped up. His eyes bored into Schuldich's, looking for the truth. When he found it, he turned back to the cityscape below. "Thanks," he said.
~*~*~*~
Aya knelt in the dew-wet grass, fingers tracing the kanji that spelled her name. "I wish it had been me instead of you," he whispered.
He lay down with his head pillowed on her gravestone and scowled at the clouds above him. She had always liked the rain, and he could never understand why. She was so sunny and cheerful all the time. In his opinion, rain was depressing. All the worst things in my life happened in the rain, Aya-chan. How could you love it?
He had lived for his sister for so long that when she was finally gone he had been lost. He had floated, confused, not knowing where to turn in the darkness that was his life. But the Battousai's coming had changed all that. He had showed Aya a new focus for his life, and new purpose.
He still wasn't ready to value his own life yet. He didn't think that would ever happen. He was a killer. He was, however, not afraid anymore. He wasn't afraid of death, and he wasn't afraid of his life either. Aya hadn't realized until the Battousai had shown him that he had been living a life of complete terror. No, the correct term was not living. It was existing. He had existed in terror.
To not be afraid any more meant he could live his life how he wanted to, for himself and others. While Aya didn't believe in himself, he did believe in his teammates. Like it or not, they were there for him in ways that he couldn't see before. And he had finally resolved to be there for them.
His shirt stuck to his back as he stood up. He grimaced and pulled the damp fabric off his skin, flapping it to dry it a little. He touched her marker one more time and then walked toward the car. The light pink of everlasting peas and dark pink of hyacinths were the only spot of color in a gray-green world.
Aya stopped in the doorway of the living room. Ken and Omi were playing some video game, and Youji was half paying attention to them.
He looked at Aya quizzically. "Aya?"
"Tadaima," Aya said. I'm home.
Note2: Everlasting pea - go not away; Hyacinth - sorrow
Chapter 13: Epilogue
"Youji," Aya said.
Youji paused in mid-stride. "Nani?"
Aya sat on the couch, staring down at the ground. "What . . . happened that night?" His voice was strange, halfway between a sob and a whisper.
Youji sat down heavily next to him. It had been a few weeks, but he knew he would remember that night until he died. "We thought you were dead. Well, except Schuldich, I guess. He told me to go wake you up while he distracted Makoto. Then, all of a sudden, you stood up and, well . . ." he searched for the words, "you were different."
"I was different," Aya repeated.
They sat in silence.
"He hasn't come back, has he?" Youji asked, picking at a loose thread in the couch cushion.
Aya's hand went involuntarily to his cheek. He traced the scars. "No, he hasn't."
Youji turned to face him. "Good."
Aya kept his eyes on the floor. "Aa." He could feel Youji's eyes on him. They burned.
"You saved us Aya, you really did." Youji shifted again, digging in his pocket for a cigarette.
No, he saved you. And me. Aya stood abruptly. "You're all I have left," he said softly. He strode out of the room without looking back.
He closed his eyes as the cool breeze caressed his face. Up on the roof was still his sanctuary. It had been three weeks. Three long weeks. He let out a long, deep breath and stared at the city below him. His hand crept to his cheek as his thoughts drifted to the samurai that had saved him. Saved him, and saved his friends. The scars were fading now. He bowed his head in grief for the two girls who had died. Why? he thought. Why did she have to . . .
A hand covered his as it gripped the railing. He snatched it away as if it burned. "Don't touch me," he ground out through clenched teeth. Still looking down, he said, "Leave me alone, Yotan," softer, more apologetic.
"Yotan, is it? You two are getting awful close." Schuldich grinned.
Aya clenched his fists. "Get out of here."
"I think we got off on the wrong foot." Schuldich ran a hand through his unruly hair. "I just wanted to say . . . " he trailed off and shifted uneasily. "Well, shit, Aya, I'm sorry about your sister."
Aya's head snapped up. His eyes bored into Schuldich's, looking for the truth. When he found it, he turned back to the cityscape below. "Thanks," he said.
Aya knelt in the dew-wet grass, fingers tracing the kanji that spelled her name. "I wish it had been me instead of you," he whispered.
He lay down with his head pillowed on her gravestone and scowled at the clouds above him. She had always liked the rain, and he could never understand why. She was so sunny and cheerful all the time. In his opinion, rain was depressing. All the worst things in my life happened in the rain, Aya-chan. How could you love it?
He had lived for his sister for so long that when she was finally gone he had been lost. He had floated, confused, not knowing where to turn in the darkness that was his life. But the Battousai's coming had changed all that. He had showed Aya a new focus for his life, and new purpose.
He still wasn't ready to value his own life yet. He didn't think that would ever happen. He was a killer. He was, however, not afraid anymore. He wasn't afraid of death, and he wasn't afraid of his life either. Aya hadn't realized until the Battousai had shown him that he had been living a life of complete terror. No, the correct term was not living. It was existing. He had existed in terror.
To not be afraid any more meant he could live his life how he wanted to, for himself and others. While Aya didn't believe in himself, he did believe in his teammates. Like it or not, they were there for him in ways that he couldn't see before. And he had finally resolved to be there for them.
His shirt stuck to his back as he stood up. He grimaced and pulled the damp fabric off his skin, flapping it to dry it a little. He touched her marker one more time and then walked toward the car. The light pink of everlasting peas and dark pink of hyacinths were the only spot of color in a gray-green world.
Aya stopped in the doorway of the living room. Ken and Omi were playing some video game, and Youji was half paying attention to them.
He looked at Aya quizzically. "Aya?"
"Tadaima," Aya said. I'm home.