No Matter What Chapter 2: Warmth, a scryed fanfic

Still don't own anything. & M for violence/language – so turn away, faint of heart!

Thank you so much to all of you guys who've read, reviewed, fav'ed me, put me on your alerts – you guys are the reason I smile. For real. You guys make me soooo happy – and if I could shower you all in cookies and chocolate bunnies, I would. Ninalee-chan, Misteline, Fanfic Connoisseur, azami-x, Wretched-Cursed, Jemi Rose, Skye Mitsukai, and a most special shout out to MiraResQNU (and if you haven't read her Scryed stuff – do it right after you read this! ) – you rock my world!

And just for the record, I'm still experimenting with the delivery style – so let me know if it works, if it sucks, or whatever. Just to clarify – this is Mimori's POV, and it jumps around a bit in short-term to long-term flashback style... You'll see (hopefully)…

Rough fingers grasped in her hair, calloused fists and elbows and gods knew what else rained upon her, and though she wished she could struggle more, for some reason, her limbs were no longer listening to her.

Blood – it was everywhere. It seeped even when she tried to hold it in, gushing between her grasping fingers, leaving her at a startling rate. Her vision was beginning to darken, and her skin was beginning to feel clammy and cold.

But she smiled; inside, she felt warm.

'Love… that's all that's ever mattered all along – love…'

The inners. Konami, Cami – Tachibana, Kazuma, Urizane, Elian, Cougar…

'Ryuhou.'

It was in the giving that she truly lived – in experiencing, in appreciating that giving, in truly living that love that the warmth was returned to her. Her only regret was not being able to give more…

Distantly, she thought the pummeling was growing less – she thought she heard harsh shouts, but she wasn't sure. She thought she heard her name… but…

Was the red becoming darker, or was her vision fading?

She had grown accustomed to his not being there.

She loved Ryuhou, but it wasn't a tangible kind of love like one must associate with that strange four letter word. No; it was like a distant kind of love – the kind of admiration one might associate with a museum, an appreciation made to be experienced from afar. Like watching the moon in the sky – a fixation that would chill her to the bone should she remain there in the chill night for too long, but one that she could not help but to endure because she was simply – transfixed.

As a child, she had been showered with affection. Hugs and kisses, verbal compliments and flatteries – like so many pats on the head, so many public displays of emotions, and she had never thought twice on any of it. She had once had a gentle spirit – such a gentle, naïve spirit, and never once had it crossed her mind that love could be anything other than that warmth that she associated with what her family had instilled such an innate, intimate knowledge of – love.

'Warmth...' How long had it been, since she had last felt that warmth?

She had come to associate her love of Ryuhou not with the warmth that love had once meant to her, but rather with the coldness that he now was. He was once so gentle – but time had changed him, morphed him into something so different – so unrecognizable.

She didn't want to love what he was now. She didn't want to love this brutally cold Ryuhou, the master of Zetsuei whom none could approach. She wanted to mourn the gentle, kind-hearted Ryuhou – to move on with her life and forget, to tell herself that it was all naught but wishful thinking on her part. Nothing but a memory.

But she couldn't. She loved him now – even as he was now, nothing like as he had been before. Damn it all to hell; she loved him. There was something amazing within him – something so strong in his pursuits. That gentle part of him was there, deep inside, but it was now represented as an icy shield of ideals.

And she loved this facet of him, as much as she wished she didn't. She knew wholly and fully, deep inside of her, that it could not be a satisfying love – how could it be, when he had no room inside that armor for any but himself?

And yet she loved him just the same.

But for all of her selfless love of him, she needed to know – needed to know if he even cared for her at all. He acted with such politely-masked spite towards her that after a while, she began to wonder if perhaps she brought him pain in being at HOLY. She loved him, and she wanted to be with him – but if she did truly pain him so deeply in being here, then she knew that she would not knowingly cause him such hurt.

She had almost been convinced – almost been certain that the feelings could not be requited, almost been certain that not only could they not be requited, but that she must leave for him.

But then, when she had asked – he had told her otherwise. Like a string tied to her heart, she was renewed to be strung along. For a while, she had thought things were about to change – she was certain that she would receive something in return for her investment. She was certain that her warmth would be returned to her – that this cold blanket of solitude, like so much spun glass laid delicately over the surface of her reality – was about to be lifted. That she was to be free, that she could breathe…

And then, he had left. Just like that – refused to even call her by her first name, insisting coldly that she return to the Mainland. He turned his back upon her, he had walked away – and they had not spoken since.

He had his own ideals to pursue – his own seemingly unattainable dream. And true, she had her own as well – but somehow, those ideals did nothing to warm her achingly chilled heart…

Months, and now, two years had passed – and it hurt. She thought she could easily make it happen, in this place where the stars were so close – but as the seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, and months had ticked away, nothing changed. The world whirred by around her, but she stood still – frozen.

Something so innate to her soul was unrealized within her, and she didn't quite understand it.

She didn't understand it, but somehow, Cougar had.

She had stood there, handful of dirt held in her trembling fist, unable to let go – unwilling to let go. Even as the sun was drawn lethargically across the sky, she had stood there, staring bitterly at his coffin. Why Cougar? Why did even Cougar had to die?

"He lived his life exactly as he wanted to," some murmured to none in particular. "He had always known he would die young." Another whispered, "He died with a smile on his face."

'How could you die on me?' But one bitter question soon led to another – and she needed to know.'How did you do it, Cougar? How could you die alone, and yet – happy?' The vivacious orange-haired youth had loved her – loved her as truly and wholly as she had ever known any love. And yet, it was a selfless love – no strings attached, no expectations or demands of her.

Perhaps he had known all along that she could not requite his love in that way. He must have known – Mimori had to believe that he must have known, or she could never forgive herself thinking that he had been strung along for even an instant. She knew that he had been aware of her feelings for Ryuhou, and he had even encouraged them – tried to go out of his way to accommodate them, to further them.

Gone out of his way to accommodate her feelings for another man, despite the fact that he had loved her. Such was that beautiful paradox known as Straight Cougar. The man who rushed through his life so he could enjoy laid-back moments his eternal hurrying would afford him. Always with a book in hand, always with a cat-that-got-the-canary smile on his face, he had known something that she did not.

She did love him in return. She loved him as the beautiful person he was –not the same way he had loved her, but much deeper than even she had realized until she stood over that gaping hole in the ground, trembling, precariously held over the edge of a grief from whence she was certain she could never return.

Later, she would realize their parallels – and perhaps it was another bond that linked them so closely. She loved Ryuhou the way Cougar loved her – and suddenly, more pieces had fallen into place. Requited or not – realized or not, it didn't matter. It was not a stipend to her determination – it did not phase her, not one iota. 'I have to help him, no matter what,' she had resolutely declared as she marched into Kyogi Mujo's complex, and nothing else had mattered.

Perhaps Cougar had thought that of her all along – to help her, no matter what, even if it was into the arms of another man.

'Goddamn you Cougar – why did you have to die on me?' She needed him – needed his mischievous smiles, his cheerful winks, his playful antics. He was like a brother and so much more. He was like the sun that merrily brightened the dark hell of the Lost Ground.

But the sun had set, and she had still stood there over his grave, ignoring the gentle ministrations of her friends as they tried to take her away. The sun had set, and she did not wake up from the terrible nightmare, Cougar did not come skipping out from behind a tree to reveal that it had all been some prank of epic bad-taste.

But still, she did not understand how he could die with a smile on his face. She, who was denied love in return to her own emotional investment in exactly the same innate fashion that Cougar himself had been, and yet she lived and cried, and he died and smiled.

How funny that she should think back on it all now – how it should all flit through her mind, like so many mysteries that she needed to know the answers to before she died.

Before she… died…

Konami's scream had rung through the air, and she hadn't even thought about what she was doing. Without a backwards glance, she had abandoned the far corner of the field where she had been planting seeds. Rocks had blurred into one jumble of neutral color as she rounded corner after corner, desperately seeking that desperate scream down the trail.

She loved Konami like a sister, and so she didn't even think about running to the girl's aid. She didn't think about any danger – the only thing she thought of was her love for Konami, and her desire to help the girl – 'no matter what…'

"Come here, little girl –"

"What a sweet little piece of –"

She swung around the corner with no warning, and the small band of men seemed shocked by her sudden appearance. There was, perhaps, a dozen of them, and they looked none too kind. As it were, they were a ragged bunch, judging by the ill-fitting, ill-kempt clothing that seemingly hung off of them. Many were haggard, but that said nothing – many people in the Lost Grounds looked haggard these days. But somehow - though different shapes and sizes – each managed to look dangerous. There was something wild and reckless that shone in the eyes that looked up at her in surprise, and Mimori knew that these men were the kind of low-life scum that lived off of what they could steal from those who worked hard.

A single quick glance was all it took to see that both Konami – and Cami, who was with her – were unharmed.

She didn't even remember carrying the hoe with her until she brandished it in front of her. "Let them go!" she demanded, her grip near white-knuckled on the garden utensil clutched in her hands.

"Like hell! We found 'em, fair and square!" one of the gap-toothed young men leered. "In fact – we might add you t' the collection too…"

"Let them go – we'll give you whatever else, just let them go," Mimori felt it necessary to give them one more warning.

"Fuck you," and many more, even less flattering snorts was the unanimous reply. When one of the men shifted his grip on Konami, she didn't even think –

She had never really fought before. She had grown up without siblings, and she had typically gotten along with her peers rather well. She relied on careful words and mutual respect to resolve problems –

The reverberate shock that coursed up her arm when the wild swing connected solidly with his head had come as something of a surprise. As a matter of shock, several of the men had jumped to the side to avoid the bright crimson that seemed to splash from her victim, and as such, it provided Konami with an easy way out. Thankfully, the other young woman took it without question, quickly running behind Mimori. Cami, too, used the opportunity to slam an elbow into her captive's stomach and squirm her way behind her would-be savior.

In another situation, the thought that she had just cut open a man's head with a hoe may have horrified her. The blood that pumped so languorously now upon the earth would have disgusted her, and the fact that she had caused it would have been unthinkable.

But this was not another situation. This was a group of men who meant to hurt two girls who she held very dearly to her heart – two girls who she loved like sisters – and she would do anything to protect them.

'Anything…'

"You – you – you fucking bitch!" one of the burly men screamed in rage, his voice cracking as he looked to his felled comrade. "I'll fucking kill you!"

"Run," Mimori commanded without even a second thought.

"Mimori –" Cami remained staring in silent horror, but Konami seemed to balk. "No – Mimori –"

"Run back to the farm! Get help!" Mimori nearly shouted at the girl, and felt no remorse for her harsh tone. When Konami continued to balk, beginning to say something about not leaving her behind, Mimori hissed, "Cami – take Konami back to the farm now!"

Cami paused only momentarily – seeing the men beginning to move forward as one, she quickly made the decision to comply. "Konami – come on!" Even though it was true, Konami was a young woman now, Cami had a few years on her – and so, the brief struggle behind her sounded short lived as Cami likely dragged Konami away. "We'll get help, Mimori!" the red-haired girl promised hurriedly, and Mimori only dipped her head, not even turning to look as the girls fled.

'It'll be too late…'

"No – Mimori! No, Mimori!"

'But it's ok… you'll be safe…'

Echoes of the past reverberated insistently inside her head, but this time, they seemed to make perfect sense. 'It's ok. Because I love you both, and I only want you to be safe.'

If the only way for those she loved to be safe was to provide her own body as a shield, then so be it. 'I have to help them, no matter what.' It was like her duty – like – the pinnacle of existence.

Like the true essence of culture.

'I understand, now.' She smiled.

Perhaps Konami used her Alter to glimpse within her. Perhaps she spied her deepest inner thoughts – or perhaps she simply noted the way the older girl planted her feet solidly on the ground, clearly not about to back down. Either way, Konami screamed, but Mimori noted with grim satisfaction that the screams were growing more distant by the second.

'Good girl, Cami.'

A man tried to swing wide around her, clearly going after their fast fleeing quarry, but Mimori once again wildly swung her farm instrument, this time catching the man full in the stomach. She almost got a kind of perverse joy from the wet connection of wood and metal to flesh – because that connection meant that Konami and Cami were one step further from danger.

"You shall not pass!" Mimori snarled, taking another wild swing as two men made a grapple for her arm. In one small part of her mind, she noted how that statement sounded like something Ryuhou might say.

'Is that what it's like for you, Ryuhou? Are you also only defending an ideal – trying to find that thing that will complete you… warm you?'

He had a gentle soul somewhere within him; that she knew. He cared for Konami like a sister, that she also knew – and should he meet Cami, she imagined he'd care for her much the same. He was a good man. Distantly, she wondered if he'd be happy that she had done this, or angry at the reckless way which she had done it.

It didn't matter.

This time a man did manage to get a bruising grip around her arm, and he yanked her back with such force that she turned her ankle in the process of falling back against his hard chest. Ignoring as his bear-like hands mauled for purchase upon her, she continued to swing her makeshift weapon.

'Run, Cami, Konami – run, and don't look back…'

She slammed a desperate sharp elbow into her captor and he dropped her, but it was so abrupt that she stumbled forward. She tried to swing to clear her perimeter, but she felt another pair of hands solidly grappling for her weapon. When another pair of hands joined the first, the weapon was easily ripped from her white-knuckled grip, leaving splinters in its wake.

Her knees tore as she was strewn across the rocky ground, but she didn't stop struggling there. Even as she tried to leap back to her feet, a stray fist cracked solidly against her cheek, knocking her back again.

She gouged the eyes of the first man who leapt upon her sprawled form, and managed to get a knee up to halt the descent of the second.

"I'll fucking kill you, you bitch!" Hands twined in her hair, yanking her head back, but she threw a sharp elbow and connected solidly with the man in front of hers face. He returned in kind, hitting her again and again until her world spun. He hit her so hard she felt her lip split, and the coppery taste of blood gave the entire experience a flavor to match the sensation.

'Run!' Every moment they were preoccupied with her, her beloved soul sisters got one step further from danger.

She was bodily hauled to her feet, arms wrenched so hard behind her that her bones cracked and creaked. It was a wonder they weren't already dislocated. Even without her arms, she kicked.

The punch to her stomach hurt more than she ever imagined such a blow would hurt. She coughed and gasped for air, but wasn't even given the chance for that as she was hit again – and again. She hardly even noticed when a knife was added to the fist.

Blood dripped from her chin from the split lip, and as her head hung down, she noted absently that blood was now staining her abdomen – running down her legs. 'I'm going to die.' It should have horrified her – terrified her – but it didn't.

A man tried to shove his face over hers, but she spit a mouthful of blood into his face, earning another bruising backhand that snapped her neck back.

She was feeling cold now – so cold –

'I'm going to die.' And then, quickly, the thought echoed, like a mantra in life to be realized in death. 'It doesn't matter. No matter what.'

It was enough time – Konami and Cami should have been nearing the farm by now. And somehow, knowing that – knowing that they were safe, that she had saved them from this fate – it made her warm.

Wamth – when was the last time she had felt this warmth?

Mimori smiled.

Things aren't looking too good, and I'm a little unsure which way I want to go from here. It's a crossroad for the genre of this story, which I haven't entirely decided yet. So, let me know what you think… Angst? Tragedy? Romance? What, what?

And did this make any sense? Is the style ok, might it have been more effective in another style… Or…?