/my own destruction/

Rin was woken by an incessant high-pitched beeping. God, what IS that noise? I just want to go back to sleep.

'She's waking.'

An icily cold voice cut through her head. Wearily Rin half-opened her eyes. She was surrounded by white: white walls, white sheets on her bed, a white ceiling above her. Even the people here were wearing white.

I remember this place.

'Isuzu?' This person's voice was gentle and caressing; a female voice, Rin decided. A motherly voice.

'Am I in hospital again?' she asked, already knowing what the answer would be.

'Yes, honey, you are. But there's no need to worry, everything's going to be okay.' A nurse smiled down at her and Rin almost smiled back. 'You're lucky that some neighbours saw the fire and raised the alarm, otherwise your condition might be much worse.'

'Fire?' Rin asked, confused. Her head was so heavy – she just wanted to fall back into that blissful oblivion, and not be woken up by any more incomprehensible talk.

'Take it steady,' a third voice advised. Rin knew this voice, but her eyes were closed now and she couldn't see anymore. It was the voice she loved best. 'Haru!' she whispered, and as she felt a dull sensation enter her arm, she sank back into the darkness.

Hatori straightened up, holding the now empty syringe. 'She should sleep for a couple more hours,' he informed the nurse. 'When she wakes again, don't shower her with information. You can answer her questions, but –' he paused for a moment, and his eyes connected with the clear grey gaze of the third person standing by Rin's bed – 'don't tell her anything she doesn't need to know.' The doctor placed the syringe back inside his case; which was lying open on a table next to the patient's bed; and snapped the case shut. He strode to the door and held it open.

'Akito-san?' he offered.

The figure clad in black walked serenely out of the room. Hatori followed his god, leaving the nurse alone with the sedated girl.

Mom

I'm running out of time

Out of time – that had to mean that she knew what would happen to her. Didn't it?

and I want to say goodbye but you're they only person I can say it to.

Because everyone else would try to prevent her from doing what she was about to do?

Please help me to be strong.

'Be strong, Tohru,' Yuki whispered. 'Be strong.'

'So they're saying that it was deliberate? That she deliberately tried to kill herself – and her child?' Shigure asked.

'That's what it looks like,' Hatori sighed. The shadows beneath his eyes were heavy, and he looked emotionally drained. Yet Shigure knew the juunishi dragon would keep on spending his strength however tired he might feel.

'You should get some rest, Haa-san. You're looking peaky.'

Hatori glared at him. 'I'll rest when the life of Rin's child is no longer in danger.'

They were standing outside the ward reserved for infants in intensive care at the local hospital. The sunlight that shone through the glass window was sadistically bright. Shigure said softly, 'Is it still uncertain then? If her child will live?'

'He will live.' Hatori's face was dark. 'But it is likely that he will have serious breathing problems later in life.' He sighed and turned his head to the window. 'Shigure, Akito says he will not let the boy go back to his mother.'

Shigure said, 'Rin won't be happy about that.'

'Losing the last thing she holds dear? She'll be utterly broken.' Hatori looked at Shigure. His eyes burned with compassion for the frail horse of the juunishi. 'Did you know, Shigure… she called me Haru. Just as I was sedating her. I was speaking to her and she said… Haru.'

'Did she really?' Shigure raised an eyebrow. 'Maybe losing Haa-kun pushed her over the edge. It was a shock to us all.'

The doctor narrowed his eyes. Something about Shigure's attitude wasn't quite right. He was used to the flippant way in which Shigure would talk about serious matters, but these days the dog seemed different. The tone of his voice when he spoke about Haru… it was the same as if he were discussing the weather, almost devoid of any true feeling.

'Have you completely given up all your morals?' Hatori murmured, more to himself than to his friend.

'Me? Shigure's lips curved in a sardonic grin, a brief insight into who he really was. 'I never had any to start with, Hatori-san. I thought you knew that?'

'Yes,' Hatori said quietly. 'Perhaps I did.'

Later the dragon went to check on his feisty-spirited patient again. Rin was sitting propped up against the pillows, her beautiful face pale. She noticed Hatori's face at the glass panel in the door and smiled weakly.

'Hello, Isuzu,' he said, entering the room and closing the door carefully behind him. 'How're you feeling?'

'I've been better,' she said. Her voice held a hint of bitterness. 'Is what they're telling me true? Are they really going to take away my baby?'

'Yes,' Hatori said simply. He was watching Rin's face, and he noticed that when he answered her question, the tiny bit of light that had still been in her eyes went out. She looked away from him, at the white wall, its surface about as blank as they both felt inside. Hatori saw a delicate tear separate itself from her eyelashes. He wondered where the Rin he used to know had gone – that girl would not have given up her child so easily.

'Rin,' he told the girl, 'I don't know what's going to happen to your child, but I'll do everything I can to prevent him from getting hurt. I won't let Akito harm him, I promise.'

'Thank you,' Rin said quietly. Her voice was lifeless.

Hatori felt an overwhelming sense of defeat inside himself. When even one of the most argumentative of the juunishi was giving in without a fight, things were definitely changing. When had their spirit left them? Hatori had never been one to argue with Akito, but he could see now that all the others were no longer willing to put up a fight – they would rather just sit back and watch all they had ever cared about be taken away from them.

'When did you lose your hope, Rin?' he asked her.

'Hope?' She laughed then, a short, bitter laugh that stopped as suddenly as it had began. 'Since when do the juunishi have any hope?'

Hatori said nothing. He knew there had been a time when they had all had hope, even himself. Hope in the form of Tohru Honda…

The girl in front of him hiccupped suddenly and he noticed that the single tear had turned into a flood. Still she was silent; the only sound coming from her was her irregular breathing, short and harsh. Her shoulders were shaking uncontrollably. Awkwardly, Hatori shuffled closer and put his arm round her.

'I've brought it all on myself, really,' his cousin sobbed, leaning on the dragon for the support that she desperately craved. 'I've been my own destruction, haven't I… it's all my fault.'

All my fault…

'No!' Hatori said vehemently. 'You mustn't say that!' Whether it had been those unexpected words that echoed Kana's voice in his memory, or the pitiful sight of someone who he'd never expected to see give in finally giving up he felt a sudden resolution – he must try and restore Rin's hope – his own hope – the hope of all the juunishi. 'You can't give up. You have to believe that things will get better.'

The horse was staring at him in surprise. Her face was still tear-stained, her eyes still brimming with liquid, but was there the tiniest amount of hope there?

'But how?' she whispered. 'How can we… when there is nothing left to believe in?'

'There's always something left,' Hatori said. 'And we'll find it.'

/end of part 7/

AN: Hope you enjoyed this chapter! Please review!