Disclaimer: Don't own it. I don't even own the manga. I filched it from Acey Dearest, but I have to return it.
Author's note: This was written as a Christmas present for Acey Dearest, my real-life friend. There's another one, but it's not required to understand this piece. There are only a few slight references to the other one.
Summary: Set an undefined amount of time after the end of book three. Kyouya/Tsukiko. Tsukiko talks to Kyouya.
Her Angel
Dong, dong, dong. The bells in the old cathedral ring as she walks down the street. The sky is grey and according to the weatherman it will rain. She carries no umbrella, just a bouquet of flowers, a ragged pitiful thing obviously bought by one without much money to spare. She turns, opening a black metal gate, the rusty patches around the hinges and the latch show its age. It creaks closed behind her as she walks up to him. She looks at him, and for a few minutes the silence is deafening.
"How have you been?" she asks finally. There is no reply.
"This week has been good… I think. There are blank spots, but the spots aren't as long as they were. I don't think I had time to do anything. I'm doing my best."
The wind picks up. Her hair whips around her face, the ends fluttering in the wind like the broken wings of a butterfly. The hem of her skirt wraps itself around the backs of her thighs. The wind is sharp and cold, but she has no jacket.
"They still don't trust us… I don't know why not. We're normal again, as normal as we can get anyway."
The leaves begin to dance on the ground. One blows up and plants itself in her hair. She reaches up to brush it out.
"Remember that day in the hospital? Right after Ren was shot? Remember what I told you? I still remember. I told you that no matter what happened I'd still love you. After everything that's happened since then there's still no one but you."
A tear rolls down her cheek. As it hits the ground, rain begins to fall ever so lightly. She kneels to place the bouquet on the cold stone. She traces the letters of his name in the stone, K Y O U Y A. It's a small comfort.
Dong, Dong, Dong. The bell tolls again on the half hour as the sun peeks out from behind the misting clouds. She stands to leave the cathedral cemetery. The gate creaks open again, and she looks back and smiles. She knows he's not sick any longer and maybe, just maybe, they'll let him be her angel.
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..
There it is. I'm not asking for you to review this, since it was just written for my friend, but if you want to go ahead.
ElvenSailorGirl