Diiiisclaimer: I don't own Samurai Deeper Kyo. Never have, never will.

A/N: This fic was written in response to a challenge posted by The Narrator to write a short, introspective piece containing the phrase "Memories linger like insert simile here before they fade away." in less than half an hour. I think I might have fudged the time a little bit... Sorry.

More apologies if Yukimura's out of character--I don't have any experience with writing SDK 'fics.

Erm... This takes place after volume nine of the manga. I hope you enjoy?

I take another swig from the jug held loosely in my hand, gulping down the sake before I can think too much about why I am drinking—that's sometimes the point, forget, get drunk before I remember. Don't wonder why you're drinking, self, don't remember the sight of his little body throwing itself in front of those arrows, don't…

For me.

He did it for me.

Scratching my head with my free hand, I look around the little campsite, trying too hard to focus on the figures I see there. Okuni-san is sleeping with a blood-soaked bandage on her chest. Quiet, for once. She's lucky to be still breathing right now, and her grave expression seems to acknowledge that fact. I silently toast her health with my drink.

Kyo-san is resting just a few feet away looking like he's actually asleep, not just stuck in a prolonged blink. He had seemed genuinely surprised when the woman had taken Nobunaga's hit for him, in actual shock. A shocked thousand-slayer is not a sight I get to enjoy very often. I smile around the lip of the jug as I take another swig.

Benitora-san looks completely exhausted and is snoring fit to raise the dead. His fight with Nobunaga had taken everything he had. How he had managed to stand after his last attack is still a mystery to me. He seems to be driven by emotion as much as strength sometimes. I sip my sake.

Yuya-san is lying down across the campfire from the Red Tiger, just in case he gets any ideas. Not that he's in fit shape to act on them in his current state anyways. I suppose it's force of habit that makes her sleep there. Yuya-san looks the least worn out of all our band, though she, too, is sleeping very deeply. Being kid-napped can certainly take the energy out of one. Another gulp of sake makes its way down to my stomach.

I hear a small sound off to my left, just the rasp of fabric on bark. Automatically, I turn to it, even though I know what it was. That rasp was the sound of a little light-haired ninja turning over in his sleep. It was strange—when he is asleep, Sasuke looks almost like a normal boy. His mouth is just a little bit open, his hair tousled (and it had acquired a leaf from somewhere), and his fingers are wrapped very loosely around that little ball-and-cup toy he's so good at. His other hand is dangling by his side, partly covering a red stain on his shirt.

He's my friend. How could he even think I would have him die to save my skin? Do the rest of the Ten believe that, too? The jug returns to my lips without a concious effort on my part, and I take another pull of the liquor. Sometimes, one just needs to get drunk.

Sasuke… I shake my head slightly dislodge those memories from my mind.

This time I close my eyes and tilt my head way back for my drink. Maybe it would help wash away the image of him, the image of those arrows, the image of Basara's face…

Basara. Now that is a strange thought. What would make think of that? My mind plays back a reel of me saying I hate people with no respect for others' lives. Ah… Now I get it. I think I am a hypocrite! Ha. Hypocrite? Never. I kill the people who need to be killed, I don't just… Kill people. Who do I think I am, calling myself a hypocrite?

Aha. I think I'm drunk now.

Just to make sure, I take another pull of my sake.

Memories linger like the taste of sake before they fade away.