Hi guys, this is my first fic on fanfic, even though I've got plenty of them hibernating in my laptop. Anyway, there is no official title for this fic (got it from a forum I'm in, but the title is still relatable), but hope you enjoy it; be warned: not for those who cry easily, it is sad. There are some really retarded and insignificant parts in it, but please just bare with me!

Beautiful Sunset

Misao sat in the dark, in the garden, breathing in and out slowly. It was calming her frayed nerves, slowly but surely. Everything was happening slowly, it seemed. The days had slowed, ever since Okina had died, since the Aoiya was nearly burned to the ground. The sun would crawl across the sky, as if to refuse passage to the moon. And all Misao could do was sit and watch the silent battle unfold before her eyes.

At first, Misao refused to sit in her bedroom and brood, but as Omasu and Okon had explained many times over and over again, she was too weak to do anything BUT sit in her bedroom and brood. She hadn't believed them, didn't want to, anyway, but it only took one incident, one little moment, to let her know that they were right. All of them. Okon, Omasu, all those doctors that had called upon her numerous times in months past. They were all right. It took a while for the reality to sink in; the rational side of her had been screaming it all along.

Misao pushed the thoughts away roughly and tried to concentrate on something happy; anything to bring her joy. But it seemed that she'd become weak and an emotional wreck over the past few weeks, too. "Baka." she muttered to herself as the all too familiar warm liquid slid down her face. She ungracefully wiped them away with the back of her hand, but still they came back, insistent and annoying. "What reason do you have to cry? You're stronger than this Makimachi." she whispered bitterly, her voice becoming lost, swallowed by the sounds of night. The wind began to blow softly, rustling her thin yukata and caressing her entire body, comforting her.

'Footsteps,' she thought as they approached from behind at an agonizingly slow pace. 'Everything is slow around here.' she scoffed. 'Even my death.' "It's beautiful, huh?" she breathed out. She didn't know who it was, nor did she care. All she knew was that they were going to tell her to go back inside, where she was safe, where everything was normal and bland and where she couldn't get infection. Misao figured she'd just keep talking so the words would never come out.

"Misao..." Okon sat down beside Misao as she continued to stare into the sky.

Misao did not want to sit there and listen, so she stood and turned her face to the sky. "It feels so good. The wind is so refreshing, don't you think?"

Okon sighed sadly. "Misao, please come inside. I'm afraid-"

Misao turned to face Okon with a serious expression. "I'll catch infection? I know, I know." she sighed dejectedly.

Okon couldn't hold back a silent tear that rolled down her cheek. "I'm sorry Misao."

"Why?" Misao cocked her head to the side. "It's not you're fault I got sick. The best we can do is pray." Misao shrugged and walked past a silently sobbing Okon.

"Misao..." she whispered, the wind carrying her broken whisper. "Why, Kami?" she sobbed. "Oh Misao..." she moaned.

The next day found the entire Oniwaban sitting at the table. All except one... "Misao is sleeping late this morning." Omasu commented quietly.

"She had a late night last night, is all." Okon replied just as quietly. "Oh! Misao!" everyone turned to see her slowly walking down the stairs. Her hands gripped the wall for semi-support, but she put on a sunny smile nonetheless. Everyone gazed at her with concern, as if she were dying right before their eyes. In a way she was. Each day, she made her way to the table the same way, only each day she relied more upon the wall to keep her from giving out. But she refused help; she wanted to go out like a fighter, as she had always been in life. Her skin had taken on a pallid color, a lot less vibrant than her usual skin tone. Her eyes became glassier and glassier, slowly as the days rolled by. And nobody wanted to admit it, but their Okashira's strength was deteriorating; and she was in great pain. Misao was much too proud to admit any of this, but it was apparently so.

"Good morning!" she addressed all with her less than usual enthusiastic chipper voice. Misao was smiles all around so conversation resumed and nobody noticed the pills she slipped into her tea before downing the entire cup.

Nobody except one pensive person. Aoshi observed Misao's actions with reserved concern. 'Her ki is weaker than it was yesterday.' He thought. For weeks, he'd been praying. Her sickness was overtaking her body, her entire being. It was like a black cloth being thrown over a butterfly. She was trapped, constricted within her own body. And he understood her desire to be set free. Aoshi knew that nothing could keep Misao caged up for too long. One way or the other, she would get out, escape, and it had become apparent that she'd not be escaping alive.

Aoshi quickly pushed aside those thoughts. 'Misao...' he thought sadly. But everything was moving so slowly...so slow.

"Misao, did you take your medicines?" Omasu asked as she rummaged around Misao's room, opening windows and such. The place was spotlessly clean.

"Yes, this morning with my tea." she said from her futon. Today was a lazy day; she'd felt like doing nothing but going back to sleep ever since she'd woken up. Yawning and stretching, she placed down the book she was reading and lay down. "Hey Omasu, could ya leave open a couple of windows? I'm sort of hot." she whispered, drifting off to sleep almost instantly.

"Of course Misao-chan." Omasu said absently. She placed a tray with tea near her futon and crept out the room, sighing sadly as she slid the shoji shut quietly. Turning with a bowed head, she made her way down the hall. "Misao is asleep, Okon. I'm going out for a while. Check on her, would you?"

"Of course." Okon nodded, vaguely wondering where the other young woman was off to in such a hurry.

It was raining and luckily, Omasu had brought an umbrella. The sky was gloomy and the rain tumbled down slowly, just as everything else seemed to be moving so quickly. Whoever had been outside had rushed for shelter, surprised that the once calm and beautiful day had been ruined. Soon, Omasu was the only person walking down the open street. Her footsteps seemed heavy, echoing and bouncing off the walls.

She soon stopped in front of a large gate. It was iron wrought and read the words 'Amari o Itsu'. Omasu bowed her head respectfully before pushing them open walking to the small booth. Signing a piece of paper, she bowed at the attendant. "Hey lady, you sure you wanna be out here? A bad storm's comin'." the attendant sort of yelled over the sound of the wind.

"No!" she shook her head wildly. "I'll only be a minute!" she called as she walked off, past the tombstones. She finally stopped and knelt as carefully as she could without ruining her kimono, umbrella tilted towards the sky. She placed the single white carnation she had brought with her on the tombstone before her. "Okina..." she murmured, wailing slightly. She took a moment to gather her thoughts, aware of the rain mixing with her tears to blend and run down her face. Taking in a shuddery breath, she said "I'm sure you're aware what's been going on since you left." A slight breeze blew in response and Omasu smiled sadly. "Then you must know that we desperately need your help. Misao...I don't know how long much longer she can stand. I mean, you know Misao-chan. You know how proud she is! She'll hold on for as long as she can, but I...just..." her words failed her as tears fell down her cheeks once more. Looking to the sky, she sighed. "Well, I'm sorry we didn't get to talk like I wanted, Okina, but now I must go." She knelt and bowed, her forehead touching the slick grass before rising and leaving the cemetery. This time her pace was quick, especially since it would take a long time to get back...but even though she hurried, she felt as if she was going...so slow.

Omasu was surprised at the sight that greeted her; Okon was pacing at the foot of the stairs and looked up as Omasu entered. "What?" she laughed, leaning the umbrella against the wall and put an orangish red cloth on her hair as was traditional. "Is Misao hungry? I'll make her some soup." she moved past Okon and to the pantry. "And where is everyone? I'm sure that Misao would be fighting to get outside. She loves the rain." She said idly.

Okon bit her lip and stopped pacing. "Misao...is in her room. Omasu..." she stopped, breath catching in her throat. "I went to wake her up...but she would budge. I don't know when she stopped sleeping and became unresponsive..." Omasu made a sound in her throat that sounded strangled. "I sent Shiro to get the doctor, and I sent Kuro to get Aoshi-san...from the temple."

"Well what's taking them all so long!" She demanded, yelling when she hadn't meant to.

"They should be here any minute!" Okon cried in defense. There was an uncomfortable silence. "I'm going to check on her again. Bring the doctor in when he arrives." she said in a rush before bolting up the stairs, leaving a flushed Omasu. She hadn't meant to yell, but all the pressure had been building steadily, it was only a matter of time. Misao had been sick for about five months, right about when Okina died, so right after having to prepare a funeral, everyone had to assume to task of helping her as her health failed more and more each day. And then that awful fire had threatened to burn down the entire Aoiya. But thankfully, it was doused before it did too much damage. Unfortunately, it had consumed Okina's room and office, Aoshi's room and her room as well.

And so for the time being, she and Aoshi inhabited rooms down the hall, guest rooms, in fact, while they waited for the Aoiya to be rebuilt. But then came the need for the doctors. No longer could Omasu and Okon break her fevers with warm cloths; they had broken away from their naive ideas that she was having a bad cold, or a virus that would go away in a week. They immediately found themselves paying now not only for repairs, but for doctors visits and medications as well. Omasu sighed and looked up the quickly darkening hallways. A storm was coming, and it wasn't just the one brewing in the sky outside.

Everyone sat in the kitchen quietly, waiting for the doctor to come back down. It seemed as if he had been up there forever; time was moving so slowly, it was enough to drive them insane. The nervousness about was permeable and everyone sat on edge, deathly silent as they were all too wrapped up in their own dismal thoughts to try to pass the time by talking with one another.

But suddenly, as if time had decided to yield to their wishes, the old doctor came back down the stairs, his expression remorseful. He seemed to talk slowly, so slow that it was impossible to comprehend what he was saying. Everyone was watching his mouth as he opened it. A flow of words tumbled out, so hard to grasp. "I'm afraid I wasn't anticipating seeing Makimachi-san so soon. I've never seen anything quite like it; now it goes about quickly. This virus seems to want to behave on its own schedule. First, it moves slow, hardly noticeable, and then it strikes with fatal swiftness. Makimachi-san has reached the stage when the sickness, whatever it may be, is attacking her system with such deadly force that it cannot possibly manage to fail. I suspect that it moves slowly to disarm the immune system, then finishes off the bit, quickly. Makimachi-san has been strong, thus far, but even at this point, her immense will will not save her." The doctor strode to the door, the room deathly silent as everyone slowly, agonizingly slowly, took in this information. He looked as if to leave, to escape the all-consuming grief. Poising his umbrella at the ready, he turned. "I would make Makimachi-san's days... enjoyable, to say the least." he could say no more and was out the door without sparing the grieving group a glance.

Aoshi sat by Misao, watching her quietly. It was the first time he could ever remember being truly afraid in a long time. He still couldn't believe that Misao, the angel that had managed to heal his broken heart, the one person who had loved him without expectations or fault, was lying on her deathbed. Aoshi had never thought himself foolish; even after Misao had fallen ill he hadn't admitted his true feelings. He could virtually see the sickness overtaking her body, but still he remained a slave to his stubborn ways. He reached out hesitantly and stroked her hair softly. His breath caught as she stirred, but he continued in his actions, hoping that perhaps she would awaken, even if only for a moment so he could get lost in her deep pools of blue once more. But to his dismay, she didn't. He breathed out softly. "Misao...I remember when I first came back to the Aoiya, you told me that you would help me, and I know you're intentions were to help me heal. And though I think you thought you weren't getting anywhere, you did...you healed me...with your love." his said the last word very softly. "But at the time, I was too proud to accept your help. But insistent as always, you chipped away at my hard exterior and broke through it. I knew that you were affecting me, even when I tried so hard to keep distance between us; but you were persistent, and it's because of that persistence that I am here now." He looked up, staring out the window, gazing at the softly falling rain as if he were gathering his strength from it. "Misao...I love you. I've loved you for a long time." He then fell silent, as if all other words had failed him.

A slight stirring caught him unawares as deep ocean eyes fluttered open. "Aoshi-sama…"

Aoshi's eyes were wide for a moment, wondering if she had heard anything he had just said moments ago. When she stared back with a lazy gaze, he figured it was safe to speak. "Do you want anything?"

Misao laughed, some part of her mind registering his warm hand grasping hers and another registering that he hadn't let go. "What's the doctor said?"

Aoshi stared at her for a long time, knowing that the girl…no woman, before him already knew the answer.

Misao could look at his face and tell exactly what he was thinking. Choosing her words carefully, she decided to graze over the subject, for his sake. "Aoshi…I'm glad that I helped you, and I'm glad that you love me."

Aoshi's eyes flew up to hold her mirthful ocean ones. "You…you heard me?"

"Of course! Just because I'm sick doesn't mean I'm not a ninja anymore. I was too tired to open my eyes so I figured I'd let you talk."

Aoshi didn't say anything for a while. What he did say, though, surprised them both. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" Ocean eyes filled with confusion and voice filled with question.

"For being so selfish and stupid and foolish." Misao's eyes widened. She had never heard Aoshi berate himself so harshly as he was now. "I don't know how I had fooled myself into thinking that I could always love you in secret and never have to tell you aloud. I don't know how I managed to convince myself that it was for the good of us both, because all my denial has done is make me miserable and you ten times worse. And I cannot fathom where I came off thinking that you would wait around for me forever. I exalted you to a high place in which you could cheat courtship, marriage, even death; all for me. I have no idea when I became so stupid. Why did I wait? I took everything for granted; Misao, when did I become so stupid?"

Misao leaned forward and embraced him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders; his arms immediately rose to encircle her back. "You aren't stupid, Aoshi. You were something much more profound and I bet you didn't know it because it is an emotion that I doubt you've faced on more than four or five occasions." She threaded her fingers in his hair and moved her lips to his ear. "You were afraid." Aoshi opened his mouth to speak but Misao hushed him. "Fear, Aoshi-sama, kept your mouth shut." She pulled back and grinned lopsidedly. "But don't worry, you don't have to be afraid any longer."

Aoshi blinked at her words. "I am…afraid for you and for me. Misao, what will happen to me once you are gone? I cannot live without you; I need to feel your heartbeat and to hear your laughter."

Misao's face dropped only for a moment before she took on a scolding expression and motherly tone. "You'll continue to live on without me and move on; you've done it before and you most certainly can do it again. I will always be with you, Aoshi; I promised to never leave you and I intend to keep it. If I must leave you physically, I'll be with you spiritually. You need not fear for I will always take care of you, even when you aren't aware of my presence."

Aoshi was speechless; it was true what she was saying that he had been able to live without her before, but somehow his physical senses wanted be aware of her presence instead of only his spiritual senses. "It'll never be the same around here," he croaked, as if trying to convince her not to die.

Misao smiled painfully. "I know, but everything must change; it's an inevitable fact of life. It's up to you to embrace the changes, though Aoshi, even if things change for the worst. There is no such thing as coincidence, everything happens for a reason. A day will pass, then two, then a week, a month, a year. Yes, you will grieve, but you will heal. Time heals all wounds; you of all people know this."

Aoshi sighed; he had nothing to say to this, there was nothing to possibly combat her poetic and heartspoken words. It would be hard to live without her, yes, but not impossible. Misao was truly a gift from Kami, and he would loathe himself for not taking advantage of such a blessing later on in his life. He looked forward and saw a bleak future, one without sunshine or happiness. There would be nobody for which to live, no smiles to anticipate and no love deeper than Misao's; he would not fall in love with another human soul as long as the memory of Misao was fresh in his mind. The thought appalled him, as if he were betraying her before she'd even gotten a chance to depart. He could feel the clouds, the darkness stretching forth to take him over, but he fought it, only if to cherish the time he has with her now. He could fight it now, and he could fight it for as long as his memories were kept intact and untouched, for decades if he so chose.

"Everything will be just fine, Aoshi. You'll see." Her soft voice broke his train of thought and he looked down on her, a small smile etched into his features. Yes, Misao was correct, he would live, not in grief, but in quiet, comfortable, somewhat painful yet nostalgic memory. His peace would not leave him, the darkness would not come and clouds would never block out the sun; yes, Misao was right. Everything would be just fine.

AN: Well, this 'fine' piece of literature has been hibernating in my laptop for months…I finally opened it and decided to finish and post it. It's kind of a tearjerker…I guess…I had a couple of pointless little parts, and they weren't essential to the fic, so I took them off and cut the fic by, like, two pages. I really don't know what I gave Misao, but she had been sick over a period of about 4-5 months. And yes, Misao DOES die, I just didn't put it in. Actually she dies that night. I was going to put that part in, but I decided against it. Maybe I'll make a little epilogue, but you guys know what you gotta do! You gotta review! Oh, and of course, constructive criticism is always appreciated.