Kumotta Sora

(See disclaimer in Part 1)

"Kukuriyu!"

Fabula took a deep breath, apparently trying to regain some semblance of control. "Ordinarily, with our help, Kumo would be able to fight off his illness, if with difficulty. But the worst is already happening, and it's as I feared—rather than just succumbing to the sickness of his body, he's finally let everything he's suffered through for the past year get to him. He's given up, Crux. Somewhere in there, he's decided that he just doesn't want to live anymore… and that, in the long run, is what's going to kill him."

"Kuu…?" Crux covered her mouth with both hands, wide-eyed in alarm and disbelief, starting to shake. It couldn't be.

"You know as well as I do that Kumo has gone through excessive amounts of physical and emotional trauma while he stayed at Gaudium," Fabula told her. "And since he lost his world, his psyche has always been delicate. There's only so much that any soul can take, after all. It's a wonder that he hasn't gone insane by now. But instead, it seems as though he's decided he'd rather die than face the rest of his existence, in fear of the pain he might suffer in the future." She was silent for a while. "And there's nothing either you or I can do to convince him that there might still be a reason for him to keep living.

"Although… just maybe… there might still be someone who can…"

"Ku?" What was she getting at?

"Crux, listen to me and listen carefully. This could be the difference between life and death for Kumo, and it's imperative that you do this quickly." Fabula sighed. "By now, fragments of the worlds Chaos destroyed should have begun to appear throughout Wonderland, as it continues to become more and more unstable. You were there before, I believe—Oscha convinced Pist to use it as part of his Ocean Puzzle, as part of their elaborate scheme to allow Chaos to feed off of Kumo's misery even more than it already had.

"A part of Mystaria should still float the skies of this world, one of a few islands that have begun to appear suspended in the air. If you find it, search it. Somewhere within the walls of the ruined city, there should be a cemetery… and one half of a broken sword should still lie on one of the graves. Get that sword and bring it back here as fast as you can."

"Kukuriyu?" What good would something like that do?

"Please. We don't have time for questions—just keep in mind that if you do this, it could save Kumo's life. Find it. Hurry. We're running out of time. I'll stay here, and do my best to keep him alive until you get back. We're counting on you."

---

Why keep fighting?

Why keep fighting when I've already lost everything there is to lose?

Why keep fighting when my destiny is forlorn, and all those I have battled so hard to protect hate me?

Why keep fighting when my life is no longer worth living?

---

Fabula cradled Kumo in her arms, holding him as he shook with fever, as he struggled to breathe, his efforts destroyed by spasm after spasm of violent coughing, as his lips formed the shape of a name he no longer had the strength to speak.

"He really was everything to you, wasn't he?" she asked, though she knew she wouldn't get any answer out of him in his wretched state.

Kumo let out a pained moan and clung to her instinctively.

"…You fool…"

---

Crux floated high above the forest, glancing feverishly around.

Yes, she knew that Pist had used Mystaria as part of the Ocean Puzzle. But she had no idea how in the world she was supposed to get there, now that the Ocean Puzzle itself was gone. Floating islands? She'd never seen anything like that, even allowing the weird mix of fragmented worlds that was Wonderland.

So now what was she supposed to do?

Irritating as the vagueness of Fabula's instructions had been, Crux didn't have a choice if she wanted to keep Kumo alive.

And that was the only thing that mattered now.

Hesitating only a moment longer, she picked a direction and was off.

---

Where did she get the strength to keep going?

How did she keep standing, keep fighting, as she saw her companions die around her?

How could she not have given up in the face of an enemy with the power of Chaos?

How did she do it?

I've always kept the memory of her strength as a way to try to keep myself fighting all through the pain and misery of my life at Gaudium, but I've come to realize that though I want to emulate her, deep down I just don't have it in me to keep taking it.

Aura was an amazing person.

I feel vaguely as though I'm letting her down by doing this, but by now I just don't care anymore

I can't keep trying to measure up to her achievements.

When it comes down to it, I can either give up… or break…

---

Upon catching sight of it, Crux wheeled madly in the air, backpedaling her wings for all she was worth until she came to as near a stop as she could in the air.

She thought it had been destroyed…

But no—Gaudium, or at least what was left of it, still hung huge and hollow and half-demolished in the air, almost mockingly.

What was going on?

Her search for fragments of Mystaria temporarily forgotten, Crux steeled herself, then slowly hovered towards the nightmarish flying castle, darting amongst the ruins. It seemed almost as though the place had never been inhabited at all, and most of the grand halls and wide marble rooms had been decimated under the collapse of the ceilings of the place.

But all the same, she thought she heard a voice…

Why am I doing this again? Crux asked herself wearily, but she couldn't hold back her curiosity. Who in the world would be hanging around a place like this? The Earl and his lords were dead, after all… weren't they?

After a moment of hesitation, she slowly followed the sound of the voice, making sure to stay behind bits and pieces of the ruined walls and pillars.

Once she got close enough to see what was going on, the shock froze her completely, rendering her unable to flee for safer skies.

In what had once been the throne room of Earl Tyrant, the necromancer who had created her stood just behind the motionless body of the plant-woman Herba.

"O Soul of Chaos, eternal spirit of destruction," the wicked creature intoned, "accept this receptacle for your being, this shell for your core. Grow and extend once more… take this body, and begin the ancient struggle once more!"

As Oscha continued to chant and wiggle, and Crux watched with mounting incredulity, Herba's hand twitched just slightly.

The former minion of the Earl sat up slowly, almost as if she were in a trance, her eyes still sealed shut and her plantlike flesh covered in the pallor of death.

There was a sharp pulse through the air, and a chill swept along its wake with enough force to make Crux shiver where she hid.

Very slowly, the leaves that had always enfolded the bud on Herba's head began to peel away, displaying the still-tightly-rolled violet flower beneath.

And her eyes opened.

But something was different, Crux realized—Herba had always been selfish and hedonistic, but her face held a coldness that the sprite-doll had never witnessed in her before. Besides, Herba had died when she'd fallen into Chaos before… hadn't she?

Herba stood, turned to Oscha, and began to smile.

"Well, there, Oscha-chan, that was close, wasn't it? But thanks to your good work, Chaos will thrive again soon…"

Oscha bowed low, his spineless body still wriggling in dark delight. "Of course, Your Highness."

Herba looked around with an expression of ennui. "Before we start to go after the Heirs, this place could use a lot of redecorating. Tyrant-chan always did like to keep it far too gloomy for my taste."

"As you wish, my Princess," Oscha told her, bowing again.

That was when the full import of what had just occurred hit Crux, still watching from her hiding place in the wreckage.

Somehow, Oscha had resurrected Chaos—and he'd done it by putting its spirit in Herba's body.

Coldness washed over Crux in heavy waves, followed by the throb of panic.

She couldn't let them find her.

As soon as she had the opportunity, she fled—and once she was out of Gaudium, she chose a direction and flew, thinking only to put as much distance between herself and that place of nightmares as possible.

---

Still trembling where he lay in Fabula's arms, Kumo let out a weak sob that lengthened into an aching moan, which was shattered when he started to cough again.

"Easy," she told him, rocking him gently. "They'll be here soon. Just hang on until then, dear. Don't give in just yet, Kumo… don't give in just yet…"

---

Crux had no idea how far she'd come from Gaudium.

She had no clue where she was or how long it had taken her to get there.

She just knew that she was staring at by far the oddest thing she'd ever seen (which, considering her long travels as she'd followed the rebel military, said rather a lot).

It looked as though an entire continent had been ripped out of the ground and set drifting, which would've been impossible enough on its own.

Considering that it was drifting through the sky, Crux had stopped dead and slapped herself a few times just to make absolutely sure she wasn't hallucinating.

It was almost too convenient, now that she thought about it—but she didn't have the time to think, because she had to go look around there.

She would've recognized the scenery anywhere.

A thick layer of clouds covered the surface of the floating continent, several feet thick and as soft and springy as a dream to the touch. At the center of the place lay the ruins of what had surely been the most magnificent of cities once, all stone towers and walkways, with tall pillars and archways lining its streets and a beautiful fountain at its very center.

It had been almost thirteen years since Chaos had destroyed this place, if she was to believe what she had been told. The thought filled her with an aching sadness, though she knew that Kumo had spent most of those long years in a timeless, dreamless sleep until his awakening, when he had determined to uncover the cause behind the senseless destruction that had claimed both this place and the world of Windaria, a land that Crux had never seen and knew little about.

Still, it had hurt him so badly to go through such an ordeal here, in the place he'd been born and raised—here, in one of the once-glorious cities of Mystaria.

The decadent beauty of the ancient citadel would've claimed most of Crux's attention if she hadn't remembered that she was here for a reason. As it was, she still had a hard time tearing her eyes off the architecture long enough to look for a graveyard.

Eventually, she found it: carved stone spires in neat rows, lovingly engraved with names in a language that Crux wasn't immediately familiar with.

Still, it wasn't too hard to pick out the one she sought. The shattered remains of the red Maken that had been so tenderly laid before the stone monument pulled the eye sharply even as they twisted the heart.

Slowly, almost timidly, Crux hovered close to the memorial. When she finally touched down and closed her hands around the smooth cold hilt of the sword's lower hilt, she froze in shock as a familiar, distinctly hostile voice echoed through her mind, taut with suspicion.

Who are you and what do you want? it demanded.

"Ku…kuriyu…?" She didn't know what she was supposed to say.

The voice was silent for a while, its pause pregnant with consideration.

Very well, it said at last. Take me to him, if you can.

Taking a deep breath and holding the sword's hilt tightly, Crux took off again, glancing down at it every now and again.

Despite her worry, she didn't hear the voice again.

---

Fabula had just laid Kumo out along the floor of the shallow cave in preparation for the worst when she heard Crux's call and turned to see the sprite-doll flying towards her, the hilt of the broken Maken in hand.

Anxiety dropped away, to be replaced by a thrilling, heady relief. "You just made it," she told Crux warmly. "Thank God you got here. Now, give it to me."

Crux handed the sword over willingly.

With obvious care, Fabula knelt by Kumo's side, laid the piece of the sword on his chest hilt-up, and gently positioned both his hands to lie along the broken crystal that had begun to glow faintly.

Smiling, she stepped away; when Crux looked at her questioningly, she shook her head and pointed.

Crux turned back to Kumo, then let out a short cry of surprise. A faint familiar form was now crouched over his body—indistinct enough that she couldn't see the exact expression on the face, but distinct enough for her to tell that this spirit or whatever had appeared naked.

And plenty distinct enough for her to make out the specter's arousal as the translucent image laid itself intimately across Kumo's body, sealing ghostly lips over the unconscious swordsman's.

Crux squeaked and blushed; Fabula, amused, covered the sprite's eyes and turned her away. "Come along now—let's leave him to his work; you and I need to talk, anyways."

---

Either this is a dream, or I'm losing my mind.

The thought echoes through my head continually, a disbelieving refrain, but it does nothing to dismiss your presence, the warmth of your body against mine, the tight tangle of our lips, the soft caress as you run your fingers through my hair.

This is just too good to be true.

But impossibility or not, here you are.

I relax into your arms, clutching you to my chest as you pull back to let me breathe, spreading soft kisses down the lines of my throat to my collarbone. Your tenderness brings tears to my eyes—and just like that, you stop, edging up on your elbows as you look down on me with concern.

"Kumo, are you alright?" The fear on your face, the deep love in your words strike a sweet chord in my heart. "I didn't think—have I hurt you?"

I can't stop the smile, even as the tears start to flow. "No—no! It's just… I'm just so happy!" I hold you tightly, snuggle my face into your hair like I always used to. "You're here. How? How can this be?"

I can feel you smiling back as you kiss my cheek, touching my face but accepting the tears as they come, such a relief from the way Chaos always stifled them. "Shh. Don't speak. Just be. Just be with me, here, now."

Logically, I know this can't be real.

But I don't care.

I've wanted this for so damn long.

"Love me," I demand, whispering it into your ear.

"Are you strong enough?" is the first thing you ask. So typical of you, and yet another relief—I can feel how painful your desire must be, and yet your first concern is with me, just like always.

"It'll be alright," I reassure you, winding my fingers into your hair. "Love me. Love me and make it all go away."

"We'll take it slow," you promise, and you kiss me again.

After I'd awakened, I felt the loss of you as though part of myself had been torn away. Eventually, I got used to the pain, and lived with it. Now, realization comes in a fresh and giddy shock as I feel what it is to really be whole again.

I've missed this more than I've let myself realize.

Need heats my blood as your lips drift over my body, and I cling to you with a whimper. It's been too long since we've last done this. I don't know how long I can handle this.

You're patient with me, like always. Your arms are steady around me as passion slowly dissolves my surroundings, as I start to forget all the pain and all the suffering that came before.

Just like the first time, you hold me close and whisper comfort to me even as you slide your thighs below mine, pause before taking me to ask if I'm sure.

So sweet of you—it's exactly this kind of thing that reminds me why I fell in love with you.

There's a sharp stab of pain through my body as you come inside me, a jolt I half-expected, as my flesh is still tender from everything I've been put through these past months. But even as you try to halt again, begin to ask if I'm okay, I stop you with a kiss, surge my hips up against yours and slide over you. We both understand my message: You take me, or I'll take you.

I've wanted this so badly, it hurts.

I've always remembered the pleasure as a heavy rhythm, like waves. This time it's more like fire—consuming my body and mind in relentless heat, leaving me only the barest awareness of your hoarse breathing, my own enraptured mantra of your name, the rapid slap of skin on skin as our bodies entwine, too heavy for me to differentiate between each silken slide in and out of me.

God, yes. I've waited for this, wanted this for far too long.

I've lost too much control too quickly—I can't hold, but surrender to you and tighten my legs around your waist as the blaze of our coupling reaches flashover and I come violently, staining both our bodies. You tremble, and let go with a single cry of my name.

I've missed this so badly.

I've needed this so much.

---

"I can't say I didn't expect it," Fabula said slowly, shaking her head. "Still, I had hoped that this time, Oscha wouldn't be able to find a new vessel for Chaos so easily."

After leading Crux far enough away that neither of them could see nor hear what was happening between Kumo and the spirit that had lain dormant in the broken sword, Fabula had gotten her to recount the tale of what had happened before she'd discovered Mystaria.

"I really have lost track of time, it seems. At least I know I'll be leaving you two in safe hands soon enough—help will be on the way in a few days, after all."

"Kukuriyu?" What kind of help did she mean?

Fabula only smiled. "You'll see. Just wait."

Crux sighed. She hated it when the Guide got mysterious.

Fabula's smile grew as she turned to give the cave where Kumo still lay a short glance. "I knew this would work. Kiri can convince Kumo that he needs to keep living where the rest of us fail to—you've saved his life today, Crux. He may not remember it clearly in the days that follow, but that's one thing he won't forget. You've saved him, and in doing so, you've saved everyone."

Crux blushed and stayed silent. She had no idea what to say to that.

"Ah…" Fabula glanced up, and pointed. "Look."

Crux followed the woman's gaze, and realized that the thick sea of clouds that had covered the sky ever since she had rescued Kumo was starting to give way, allowing a few glints of brilliant blue to show through.

---

I lie happy and sated in your arms, tracing meaningless patterns along your clavicle with the tip of my finger.

You smile at me, then lean in to kiss my forehead. "That was…" You give me a long, fulfilled sigh. "I don't think there are even words for how awesome that was. Wow. You're even better at this than I remembered, Kumo-chan, and here I always thought we had it as good as it gets."

I bite back a laugh and snuggle close to you.

You grin at me, kiss my cheek, and then nibble my earlobe, letting your hair drift forward and tickle the nape of my neck, making me squirm against you and cling to get you to stop even as my laugh breaks loose with a surprised sound, like the rare music in the shattering of glass. You graze your lips against that ticklish spot just so that I'll squeal, then finally ease up and shift your lips back to mine.

We kiss for a while, an activity I never tire of. I love the way you taste, and between desire and affection, you have a silly habit of tongue-fencing that's both highly entertaining and a bit of a guilty pleasure. I could do this for hours.

You give up relatively easily, then sigh and stretch a little before settling your arms back around me and re-tangling your legs with mine. "Mmmmmmmm. Whoever it was that said regular orgasms are good for you, I absolutely believe them. It's been way too long since we've done this, and I'm willing to bet that you haven't self-serviced for months."

"Niisama!" I can't help but go red, probably because it's the truth. "Why do you always have to go spoiling romantic moments by being so perverted?"

You grin and stretch again, looking for all the world like some lazy tomcat. "You love me for it, though." Your grin becomes predatory as your hand slides down to my hip, then drifts over to rest between my legs. "Well, I'll make allowance for the fact that you haven't had much to self-service to, nor much of an itch to scratch. I got all the sex drive in our family."

"Niisama, stop it," I mumble, and blush some more.

"Oh, you don't really mean that." You know me way too well. After a few moments of imitating the same patterns I traced along your skin, your grin starts to widen. "Okay, there we go. I was starting to worry—it was taking rather a long time, wouldn't you say?"

I shiver and moan. "Just get on with it," I plead.

You frown at me. "Kumo, are you sure you're a man?"

"Shut up." I grab your wrist and get you started.

You laugh, even as you shake my hand away and take over. "Okay, masculinity confirmed."

Just to annoy you, I don't even bother trying to hold, but let the climax come quickly, sweeping me away as I thrust towards you and rake my nails down your back.

Of course, it doesn't work. When I open my eyes and stare at you in a daze, trying to get my breath back, you're just giving me that self-satisfied look as you meticulously lick your fingers clean.

"You are impossible," I proclaim.

"I love you, too," you tell me patiently, running the tip of your forefinger over my lower lip.

I taste the bitterness instantly and make a face even as you start to laugh again. "Niisama! Ew!"

When I'm done fussing and you're done making fun of me, your expression softens, and you hold me close, heart to beating heart.

"I love you," you tell me again, serious this time. "I just want you to know… I'm sorry for before. I'm sorry for everything you had to go through without me… and the things you had to go through because of me."

"Niisama…" I look at you in surprise.

"I'll never forgive those bastards for using me to hurt you," you swear, regret in your eyes as you lean in to kiss me again. "I'm so sorry, Kumo-chan…"

"It… wasn't your fault…" I say, disoriented. "Niisama, why are you apologizing? It's not your fault."

You give me a rueful smile and ruffle my hair. "Kumo, you're too sweet for your own good."

I sigh, unhappy now. "Niisama, all of this… was this just a dream, then?"

You pause, consider. "Yes and no," you say at last. "And you probably won't remember most of this as real. Your body's still sick, after all. But I want you to know that I love you. I always have and I always will, and nothing those people do to me or you will ever change that."

Sudden tears choke me as I cling close to you. "I love you too, Niisama," I whisper, overcome.

You kiss my bare shoulder, stroking my back. "Shh. It's okay now. You'll be okay now. You've got friends waiting for you now, you know—other people who care about you. And besides, you and I will meet again. So keep going, okay? Don't give up the fight just yet."

I try a smile. "Okay."

"Promise?" you ask, your eyes warm with love as you slip your pinky through mine.

"Promise," I reply.

You kiss my cheeks and squeeze my hand. "Get some rest, now— okay, Kumo-chan? Once you wake up you'll be in a safe place, and you'll know what you have to do. And you'll also remember… I'll always be with you. I'll always be right here." You put your hand on my chest, over my heart.

I feel the tears well up again. "I love you, Niisama."

You lean in and plant a brief kiss on my lips. "I love you, too, Kumo."

---

By the time Fabula and Crux went back to check on Kumo, he was sprawled on his side, one hand still wrapped around the hilt of his brother's sword, sleeping deeply, his breathing even.

Fabula knelt by his side and laid a hand on his forehead, then smiled. "His fever's broken," she proclaimed in a soft voice.

Crux sighed, immense relief flooding her body.

"That means it's time for me to go."

"Kukuriyu?" Go where?

Fabula just smiled. "Back to the job I'm supposed to be doing. Don't worry. You have Kumo to look after, and besides… you and I will meet again one day."

"Ku…" Crux held out a hand almost shyly.

Fabula laughed, surprised, even as she took it. "You don't need to thank me. It was good finally being able to meet you in person… both of you. You're brave young people, with another long journey ahead of you. Take your time, enjoy the peace while it lasts. Kumo may not remember me when he wakes, but you will, and you can be sure—no matter what, I'll always be watching over all of you."

Fabula stood, slowly gathered her things, and pausing a moment to gently ease Kiri's broken Maken out of Kumo's grip, walked away, carrying it with her.

After she disappeared into the forest, Crux looked up at the sky.

It was a pure, beautiful blue, with barely a cloud in sight.

---

"Hey, Cid, come here—you're not going to believe this!"

The inventor looked up from the mineral-laced stones he'd been examining, nonplussed. Miles had just come tearing through the trees back to him—her short violet hair was in complete disarray, her eyes were wide, and her face was flushed from the run. Something had obviously shaken her, and that in itself was rare enough for Cid to want to know what was going on.

"What is it?" he asked, standing up and dusting off his shorts.

"Come with me—you've got to see this," Miles insisted, grabbing him by the wrist and pulling him along a twisting path through the heavy forest they, along with most of the other members of the Comodeen, were supposed to be exploring in order to find materials to fix Silvia's hull before they prepared their precious airship for takeoff.

After a few moments of shoving through the brush, the trees gave way to the silvery surface of a lake that had remained hidden by the screen of the forest, as well as a few small outcroppings of stone along its edges.

"Sure, it's interesting, but what—?" Cid started to ask, but Miles shook her head.

"Over here," she insisted, leading him to a hollow in one of those outcroppings.

When Cid first saw the lean white form curled up in the shelter of the stone, he did a double-take. "That's… but what is Makenshi doing here? Lisa-san told us that he and Kaze…"

Miles shook her head. "I don't know—but he's here, and somehow he's still alive. He's pretty beat-up, though, and he looks like he's lost a lot of weight lately. He's unconscious, and he wouldn't wake up when I tried shaking him, but he's still hanging in there."

Cid knelt at the swordsman's side, looking from the dark slashes beneath those tightly closed eyes, the vague impressions of ribs along the lean sides and chest, the faded bruises, and the inexpertly dressed wounds with flecks of blood along each makeshift bandage.

"They really put you through the wringer," he murmured, putting a sympathetic hand on the other man's shoulder. "Miles, give me a hand—we need to get him back to Silvia right away. Everyone needs to see this."

-owari-