A/N: Wan! Wan! I got new readers!

Tracey: Thanks so much for taking the time to review! You made my day ^^

Subaru: *hands over a handkerchief* glad you liked the lemon! Nyahahaha! And thanks for the info.

Anonymous: Maa, maa. . . the world has to end sometime. . . .

Sakusha: HELLLLOOO!

Grafitti, Kaori-chan, lin.exe: Thank you! Lin.exe, er. . . forgive my ignorance but what's an AMV? *sweatdrop* still so new to this business. . . .Black Black Heart is a GREAT song!

Rinny, Lil Yaoi Kitten, Poison Ivy: Ah, my faithful reviewers. . .you make me cry, you know?

Shaynie:. . . . . . .NANI? YOU DON'T READ LEMONS??? *speechless*. . . . .wow.

Warning: Angst, baby, angst.

Disclaimer: If I own them, would I be THIS delusional?

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CHAPTER 11: Autumn's coming

The day promised to be beautiful.

Streaks of red-gold and honey pulsating with dewdrop yellow burned at the very edge of the horizon, pushing back the gloom of the waning night. The colors heralded the coming of Amaterasu, Sun-God and ruler of the Heavens.

Hopeless romantic, he chided himself. Standing before the windows of the infirmary gave him an excellent view all the way to nearly the very limits of the town's boundaries and from here, he could just make out their apartment building. The excellent vision was an unexpected gift of the town planning and it afforded him an unparalleled position by which to view the coming dawn. He rarely did get to watch the sunrise, never really having that much opportunity (nor the inclination) to wake up before dawn and today, he was glad for the chance.

It will happen today.

The dewdrop yellow, the very center of the fiery corona, intensified to a burning magenta.

It will happen today.

Arms slid around him from behind and he leaned back in contentment. Warm breath ruffled his hair and he smiled. Silently, they watched the rising of the sun together. From burning magenta to boiling red and for the briefest of moments; a burst of pure gold, and the rim of the sun rose over the horizon.

It was the start of a new day.

This is the end.

"That was magnificent," Taka said softly.

"Aa," he replied. Despite the dazzling brilliance, he could not take his eyes off the panorama. Tilting his head to the side, eyes half-closed in what might be dreamy contemplation, he sensed. . . a certain something in the air. Today will be. . .

The end.

Tearing his eyes away from the scene, he turned in the embrace to give a mock glare at his husband. "I thought you were making tea," he asked with arched eyebrows.

"I did," Taka replied with a faint air of hurt. "I called you a few times but you didn't hear me. You were too busy gawking out the window."

"I wasn't gawking," Kyo said primly. "I was admiring."

"Not somebody else I hope."

"Well, actually, the gardener that passed by just now looked kinda cute. You know, the brawny, macho type. I'll bet he's a stud in-mmph."

A firm kiss was what he got for his teasing and he fully enjoyed the moment.

The day warmed to a sunny blue, courtesy of summer as birds trilled song from the open window. He leant back in Taka's embrace, legs and arms tangled together on the couch with each of them nursing a mug of hot tea. The sensei had put down his mug earlier and one hand was brushing back his bangs repeatedly, the gesture effectively slipping him in to a light doze while Taka read a medical journal. Right now, he could be offered a million bucks and he wouldn't move at all. It was a shame though, that he would have to, in an hour or so. That was why he came to the infirmary with Taka at such an ungodly hour; today was the day of the kendo tournament.

Taka had pointed out last night that it would be more prudent for him to get all the rest he needed for his fight but he had been adamant. After all, he countered, he needed his good luck kiss before going. His sports bag now sat by the door as he waited for 9 am to come. The bus was scheduled to arrive at 9.15 and as captain, he had to be early anyway.

They were content to let the silence cover them as the minutes ticked by. Kyo loved these moments as much as when the need to chatter on and on hit him and Taka. There was nothing as healing or as peaceful as golden silence once in a while.

"Autumn's coming," he said abruptly.

He could feel a nod from Taka, his chin brushing his hair.

"Yes, that's /this is it/ what usually /the last day/ happens after summer."

"Make sure you dress warmly when you go out. And don't stay up too late reading your journals."

Taka's hand stopped their comforting brushing. The hand that was still holding on to the book tightened their grip momentarily then relaxed.

"Why do you /don't leave/ say that? You'll be around to /goodbye/ nag me anyway," he replied calmly.

He shrugged. "Just in case. . . you forget."

A sigh. "I won't."

* * *

"Hey Kyo! Everyone's aboard! Let's go!" Reiko shouted from her precarious perch on the bus steps. He shook his head resignedly at her energetic bouncing. At least she manages to focus her enthusiasm on the mats effectively enough, he sighed inwardly. He slammed down the door of the luggage cockpit and brushed off his hands. Without even being aware of it, he turned his head around to tilt it back slightly, his gaze going automatically to a familiar fourth floor window.

"Kyo! Kick some ass!" Taka called out cheerfully.

He grinned back in reply and gave a jaunty wave. His thoughts flickered back to the good luck kiss his sensei had given earlier and a slight red tinged his cheeks. If actions were something to go by, Taka had seemed determined that the good luck would be for him AND the whole team. . . .

Looking resolutely forward, Reiko stepped back in to the bus as he climbed the steps into the cool dimness. His team looked back at him with wide smiles on their faces that suspiciously looked as though it had nothing to do with the excitement of an upcoming match.

"So Kyo, still going to deny that there's nothing between you and the sensei?"

Oh dear.

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They had perhaps been on the road for not more than 15 minutes when he felt it.

It was a feeling of a certain. . . .anticipation. Of the match?

No, something else. . .

Anticipation, apprehension. . . .fear. . . .worry. . . .wrongness.

His stomach roiled at the jumble of emotions engulfing him and his hand stole out to grip the hand rest of his seat tightly. His head bowed down as he tried to make sense of the conflicting emotions that had rose up suddenly and he could feel bile threatening to rise up. He fought to regain control of himself and his nausea but he was fighting a losing battle.

"Kyo? Are you okay?"

Damn, he thought. They noticed. He couldn't afford to have his teammates getting riled up with worry. This was an important match that could see them getting to the national championships and he didn't want them to screw up this opportunity. It's probably just a slight bug, nothing more, he wanted to assure them. He opened his mouth to say so when-

FEARWORRYTOOLATEDANGERTOOLATETOOLATEHURRYHURRYHURRYHURRYHURRYHURRYHURRYHURRYHURRY!

He sprang up from his seat, ignoring his friends' startled cries and ran to the driver, his steps stumbling a little from the sway of the bus.

"Stop the bus!" he yelled at the confused driver. "Stop it right now or I will!"

Something in his face must have convinced the elderly man to heed him for as soon as the words left his mouth, the bus swerved suddenly to the side, eliciting enraged honking from the cars behind. The engine idled sullenly as the door whooshed open with a soft hiss. Even before they were completely open, he had squeezed through and was already running flat out back in the direction of the school as they called out to him.

"Kyo! Kyo! Where are you going?"

His feet pounding on the pavement, arms pumping at his sides and his breath rasping in his throat from fear, he prayed that it wasn't too late. That he would be in time. He had to.

He was perhaps 5 minutes away from the school, the clock tower rising through the trees up ahead, when the first explosion rang out.

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Death.

The final act for a fragile life. Life that is a brief candle flame compared to the absolutism that is death. Interesting really, that a person's life is never more real, senses never more acute, feelings never more heightened, that when death comes a' knocking.

They say that when a person dies, they're never truly gone for they will always live on in the memories of those who still lived. Memories that are recalled with fondness, affection and always sadness. Memories like old photographs in dusty albums kept in the attic that will fade with time till only a sepia tinge remains. Yes, a fitting tribute to a soul long gone. You have never died for you live in my memories. Yes. After all, who cares that I can never touch your cheek again nor feel your warm breath nor kiss your soft lips? After all, I can still remember how it felt like.

They also say, that it is better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all.

Fools.

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No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't stop the tears from falling.

She had long abandoned the packet of tissues. No use when every time she wiped, a new stream will flow. A stream of salty bitterness that fell from shell-shocked eyes. Her friends had long gone, turned away by the firm hospital staff to go back to their homes. You can come back tomorrow. This is a hospital and patients need their rest. Go home now.

She had yet to. The nurses didn't even consider trying. They had been told of how close she was to the boy and the fact that he had no family. The sensei lying inside also had no immediate family around, his parents still in Hokkaido and no one having their contact number. She longed for Ken's presence by her side. She needed him and his unstinting comfort, offered silently with no attempts of shallow, halting words of condolence. How easy it was for them to tell her that everything will be alright! How could it when she had lost her best friend? How could it when she can no longer hear his laughter as she teased him or see his smile again?

She longed for Ken but paperwork, that demon that insinuated itself to every aspect of life, even death, had taken him away. He had promised to be only a while but the few minutes that passed was already killing her. She stared woodenly at the closed door before her. Room 403. Takashi's room. Oh dear god, how will she face him?

"Hikaru-san?"

She tore her eyes away to look up in to concerned, kindly-looking eyes. Crows' feet etched deep into the corners, he looked at her with more than just sympathy as she took in his rumpled suit with the ever present white collar (obviously thrown on in haste) and the shock of white hair.

"Father Sakano," she said dully. He was the one who had officiated Kyo and Takashi's wedding 6 months back.

"I came as soon as I heard," he took her hand in his own, gnarled and wrinkled with age but still strong and heartbreakingly tender. It felt warm, compared to her chilled skin and she squeezed his hand gratefully. "Are you okay?"

She nodded, smiling a bit but the tears kept falling anyway. "I'm fine. Thank you for coming Father, I-"

"Teruhiko-san?" a voice interrupted.

They both turned to see a rather young nurse, the name tag stating Ranmari, waiting for them with a slight air of distress.

"Yes?" she asked.

"Shiozaki-san," the nurse stopped as she flinched but went on anyway. "Shiozaki-san has been cleaned and. . .prepared. You can see him for a while if you want," she finished in a rush.

Cleaned and prepared. God, such cold, impersonal words.

She didn't know why she was hesitating. After all, it was she that kept on insisting earlier for them to let her see him one last time. He was her friend, her brother.

"Do you want me to come with you?"

She turned grateful eyes to the priest. Words failed her as she nodded and he helped her to her feet. Together, they followed the nurse as she led them to the bank of elevators. Stepping inside, she pressed a button, the words 'morgue' stenciled in deep black next to it.

Morgue.

* * *

"He looks like he's sleeping," she said. Her voice sounded faint, lost in the cold, sterile gloom of the morgue. Rows of stainless steel drawers lined the walls alongside while white-shrouded gurneys formed a macabre line in the middle. Her mind shied away from contemplating the thought of what must lie in those drawers or under all those sheets.  She stood by the one nearest the door, the shroud pulled back to reveal a pale, unlined face. Soft black hair lay smooth and kempt while the brows were unmarred by furrows. Long lashes threw shadows on pale cheeks from the bright lights overhead and the mouth was a restful line, neither smiling nor frowning ever again. His eyes lay closed in deceiving slumber and almost, almost, she expected them to open and give her that familiar, light, piercing stare.

Taking pictures again, Hikki?

"He's in God's embrace now, Hikaru. He's free from any pain," Father Sakano whispered consolingly in her ear. She may have been deaf for all the attention she paid him. Instead, she reached out and her fingers brushed against a lifeless face questioningly.

"He feels so cold," she wondered.

So cold. Never again would he be warm to the touch. Warm, vibrant and full of life. Never again would he take long breaks in the infirmary with her, Ken and Takashi. Never again would they have sleepovers and sharing hot cups of chocolate, laughing together at some joke. Never again would she see the two of them; Kyo and Takashi, staring at each other with such obvious love that her heart ached.

Never again.

As the cold seeped through her skin, she was finally able to acknowledge it. She was finally able to accept that one fact she had tried to deny over and over again deep inside her. It had been easy to hold on to such hopes when proof wasn't there in her face. But deny it no longer she could. The cold affirmed it. So did the lifeless pallor.

She sank into the Father's waiting arms and cried anew.

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They never seemed to notice that one corner of the room lay in deeper shadows than the others. If they had looked closely, they would only see the dark but some strange quality of it would have made them hesitate, perhaps wonder. The shadows felt. . .expectant. Waiting. But nonsense, it was only shadows. . . .wasn't it?

He waited in that dark corner and nobody paid him any attention.

Neither the doctors, the nurses, nor the visitors, quite a score a few hours ago but now reduced to three which waited with rock-like patience, paid him any mind. Him in his little corner. He didn't mind though. He liked it in fact. Though, truth to tell, he did felt vaguely uneasy and maybe a bit hurt that those three sitting by the bed can't see him. He felt that they should. . . . .but that was okay. He was here for one reason only. It was that one reason that kept him motionless in that corner for hours on end, his waiting knowing no impatience or tiredness.

As the nurse finally finished whatever it was she was doing, she smoothed down the blankets covering the still form, adjusted a sling and with a small smile at her patient's visitors, quietly left the room. The door closed behind her, throwing the room into dimness save the pool of light shining down on a pale face from above the bed. The fluorescent halo threw his features in to stark relief, highlighting the minor cuts and bruises and turned the spill of dark auburn hair in to the color of dark blood and gold. His heart constricted at the sight of the beauty and he finally allowed himself to move away from the corner. His feet were soundless on the tiled floor, and he made no sound at all as he came to stand by the opposite side of the bed, facing the visitors. One was an old man, a priest it looked like, and the others were two high-school kids. A guy and a girl. They seemed somehow familiar. . .

Father Sakano. Hikaru. Kenji.

Somewhere deep in his mind, a small voice offered him those names and dredged up memories. He tilted his head to side questioningly as the memories played and after a while, he smiled. He remembered them now. His friends.

But he wasn't here for them. No. he turned his gaze to the figure lying prone on the bed. He took in the trailing IV lines, the beep beep beep of a machine and the white cast covered leg left open by the blanket. He was the reason why he waited all this while. This man lying on this bed. He felt the smile on his face grew wistful.

Takashi.

Without hesitation, he climbed on to the bed, the sheets undisturbed despite him nestling into place by the side of the unconscious man. He lay on his side facing the man called Takashi, barely fitting in to the space but was untroubled by the danger of falling off. His position secure, he lifted a hand to touch that sleeping face when he paused to take note of his hand.

His flesh looked. . . insubstantial. Unreal. Like smoke. If he squinted, he could make out the other side of the room through his hand and he felt a flicker of amusement at that. Disregarding the inconsequential fact, he placed his ephemeral hand against the man's cheek.

Despite his rather weird state of being, a feeling of absolute rightness filled his being at the contact.

"Taka," he whispered.

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~to be continued~

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A/N: . . . . .it finally happened. . . . sigh. . . . .The next chapter will be the last and I'll update soon, ne? The third arc will probably be uploaded after the 18th. Why? Sigh, my finals is next week. . . urgh! Still. . . .ah, I'm depressed. But then, how would they become Shinigamis if they don't die right? Still. . . .review! ^^