Disclaimer: Once again, I don't own FY. I wish I did, but I don't. Also - this is my meager attempt at this. ^_~. I figured since the Tasuki chapter worked so well and I got a complaint or two about this person looking like a jerk that I would do the same kind of thing,...only from this person's POV. I hope it works out...

~Moeru

One Last Chance to Say Goodbye

~*~

Sighing, eyes closed against the well of pain, and a piece of parchment, crumpled and tear-soaked from both ends of exchange, fell to the lush carpet, lying still until a breeze wafted through the room, sending it skittering a few inches into the leg of a chair, where it came to a stop.

They hadn't needed to tell him who had died. When he had felt that pain rip through him, he had known already exactly who it was. He didn't know how he had known, but he had.

Hotohori clenched his fists, closing his eyes tightly against the wave of pain that swept through him again at the reminder. He wished that Chichiri hadn't sent the letter. All it had done was to confirm to him that Nuriko was dead.

Dead.

The word sounded so hollow if he spoke it aloud. After all, how could Nuriko be dead?

Nuriko was so cheerful, so full of life, so beautiful. A valued friend...

A knot twisted itself in his stomach and a lump filled his throat. Loneliness overwhelmed him. He hadn't noticed until these days how much he had enjoyed Nuriko's company.

The smaller man had always been close-by, ready to comfort him with a smile or light gesture. A kind word, or something as equally stupid as popping his head in to check on him when he thought he wasn;t looking.

Yes, he missed Nuriko, more than he thought it decent to admit.

Hotohori stood in front of his mirror, his hair unbound. But for once, he wasn't studying his reflection. He was staring into the past, at remembered moments of time.

Nuriko, tossing fragments of a broken pavilion as if they were chess pieces, nearly crushing some of his court.

Nuriko, dancing in the hallway with Tamahome after they had been caught eavesdropping on his conversation with Miaka.

Nuriko's face when the Mirror Miaka had told them the truth - the look of utter hurt and betrayal made his heart break to remember.

Nuriko, bashing a Nyan-Nyan through the roof, and throwing a sizeable chunk of railing after a fleeing assassin and then blaming the ensuing crater in the palace wall on the assassin.

Nuriko, perpetually defending him from Tasuki's...uncouth insinuations about himself and Miaka.

Nuriko, blasting through a wall, crushing a sake bottle, and prying a bandit off his leg.

Nuriko, teasing him lightly about jumping over the wall of the bandit stronghold in pursuit of Miaka.

Nuriko, smiling and laughing as he greeted Miaka upon her return.

Nuriko...Nuriko...

"NURIKO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

The cry ripped from him throat as he crumpled to the floor of his room, holding himself. He hadn't realized until just now how much Nuriko had meant to him. How much he had missed the laughter and smiles, even the damage to the palace.

One sob, then another, tore through him and he let them. He had already ordered his guards away, so there was no need to hide. No need to pretend.

He leaned into himself, screaming and crying out the pain, emptying himself of it.

He couldn't stand it. He didn't know why he was having this reaction, this feeling of engulfing loneliness. Why the grief was devastating to him. He didn't understand it, but it was like he had just died too.

His tears fell freely, staining silk and leaving small dark spots on the carpet. He didn't care, his sobs bitter in his rooms, echoing emptily.

Pretty things and being emperor seemed so hollow. He felt hollow, like there was nothing left.

Finally, his sobs quieted and he leaned against his bed, gasping for air. His heart ached, knowing that now was the time that Nuriko would usually wander by, whistling a quick tune to mask his slow footsteps.

He closed his eyes as the image of Nuriko smiling at him when he had caught him at this once.

"Oh, Heika..Did I disturb you? I was just wandering by..."

Hotohori had known better. It was obvious in the quick flush of Nuriko's cheeks, the sudden downcast of his eyes.

"Sorry to disturb you, Heika...but..."

Nuriko had often poked his head into a particularly boring meeting to ask him so silly question. Obviously on purpose, and appreciated very much by Hotohori.

He lifted his eyes, pain and sadness etched on his face. He had never told Nuriko that. In fact, he had never told him how much he had meant to him.

He couldn't stand this - all of this time he had thought that the Priestess of Suzaku would be the one to take away his loneliness...

But the key to that had been available so much sooner...And he had done all but publicly scorned him.

But Nuriko had still loved him.

Hotohori wandered aimlessly out into the hallway, musing over this development in his thoughts. His steps were slow and measured, but he had no conscious idea of where he was headed until he was outside the door of Nuriko's room and his fingertips were brushing the handle.

Startled, he almost drew back, but instead opened the door. He had never been in here. It wasn't girlish in design or décor, and nor was it manly. It in itself was Nuriko, carefully neutral, and tidy.

Hotohori closed his eyes, trying to imagine Nuriko at the mirror, on the chair, and succeeding so well that he sank to his knees in from of the mattress and began to cry again.

*

No one questioned the emperor when he emerged from a room not his own the following morning, looking quieter and more sad than normal.

*

"You can't die! What about your son?!" Miaka shouted into the book, her words echoing down onto Hotohori.

"I do want to see my son," he whispered, looking at the picture of all of them that Miaka had had taken before the others had left for Hokkan. His fingers lazily brushed the dirt away from Nuriko's face.

Sighing softly, he closed his eyes and let the darkness take him.

As he slid away from his senses, he became aware of a warmth that was new but not unfamiliar. It embraced him.

"It's alright, I've got you...no need to be afraid, Heika..." Nuriko held his gently, guiding him to wherever they needed to go.

Unable to voice his feelings, Hotohori clung to the ethereal arms surrounding him.

"Nuriko..." He whispered softly, closing his eyes against tears, pain choking him.

A hand brushed away a loose strand of hair.

"Hush. It's going to be alright. I've got you...We're all waiting for you...it's going to be okay..."

Sighing, Hotohori relaxed into death.

~*~

End.

A/N: well, was that any good? Is there anyone else I should do one for, eh? ^_~.

Ja ne!! ^__^.