A/N: Eek! Back, mob, back! Forgive me, my loyal readers…I have meant to get this up for a long time…I just haven't had the time! So sorry! So, is Akito truly dead? And Shigure? Will Hatori wake up? Will Ayame ever be with his love?

Disclaimer: I don't own Furuba and I'm not making money off this either

Ratings: PG-13

Genre: Angst/Drama/Tragedy

Warnings: yaoi, character death

Main Characters: Sohma Ayame, Sohma Hatori, and Sohma Shigure

Additional Notes: Well, in case you're curious, "Tada Hitotsu no Kikai" means "Only Chance". On with the story!

Sakura Snows

Chapter 9: Tada Hitotsu no Kikai

His eyes opened early the next morning, long before anyone would be up. It was still dark as Shigure quietly, carefully, untangled himself from Ayame's exhausted form, sitting up in the bed. He frowned—something was different. The feeling…it was something like being free and being crushed under weight beyond imagining all at once.

Something wasn't right…

He got to his feet, mindful not to wake Ayame as he started toward the door. He stopped, chewing his lip for a moment before going back to the snake. That face…so drained. And yet—so beautiful, so absolutely perfect for all its faults. He tenderly brushed back a lock of silver hair from the closed golden eyes; he covered the man with another blanket and left.

The halls were dark as pitch as he walked, letting his feet lead his way. Velvet shadows wrapped around him, caressing him; he wanted nothing more than to scream, to confess his every sin. To confess to Ayame. To confess of Akito. To beg for a forgiveness he would never deserve. Soon enough he realized his feet had halted their endless wandering. It was the garden, the dry branches swaying and cracking in the light wind as snow blew from boughs and the shingled roof. He gazed at the grounds, knowing what he was searching for was there, somewhere. A small dune of silver snow had collected near a broken and twisted tree and Shigure frowned.

Something was wrong…

His eyes caught a sliver of red and his heart skipped a beat, tempo speeding up slowly, as he picked his way across the snow-covered ground. He froze when a strong gust scattered some of the white, revealing its haunting ghost image.

Akito…!

Shigure was at Akito's side in seconds, his eyes wide. "Akito!" His hands trembled as he shook the patriarchs thin shoulder. Nothing. Akito's skin was frozen, the youth's lips blue beneath the dried blood and ice. Shigure's breath came out in short gasps, the air fogging, as he brushed his numb fingers down that frosted cheek, his heart wrenching as he felt the frozen teardrops, saw those open and unseeing eyes. Akito was gone.

"Akito…"

He sat there, slumped amid the snow and ice and death, staring at the pale boy—so peaceful, yet so forlorn… He smoothed back the raven tresses before allowing his fingertips to brush those lashes and rest on those lips. He swallowed dryly, his chocolate eyes sliding closed, and felt every feeling he'd ever felt for the patriarch knot in his stomach, twisting and making him sick.

"Akito…why?" It was soft, quiet—hardly a whisper. "Why me? Why did this happen?"

No answer; the snow fell lightly from the braches and roofs, dusting the dog's dark hair with glittering white. It wasn't right, he decided. He couldn't just leave Akito in the snow like some rag doll—no, Akito had been a bastard on occasion, true, but even he didn't deserve this grave of ice and mud.

Shigure took a shaky breath, carefully picking up the stiff and cold body. He took him to the patriarch's room—the most fitting destination—and closed the door. Gently, he laid Akito's still frame on the futon, feeling as though his sight was lost—he couldn't think, he couldn't breathe, he couldn't understand… It was lost…everything was gone—he had nothing left.

He was alone.

"I'm the only thing you have left, Dog. Or have you forgotten that?"

It was as though an invisible hand had punched through his gut, its fingers wrapping around his insides and twisting and ripping, tearing him a part. Gone…all gone… He was nothing. In a breath, he had nothing. A burden was all he could give now, nothing more.

"I'm your only hope, your only chance—your salvation. You'd be nothing if it weren't for me. You'd be better off dead without me."

His breathing was harsh, his eyes wide. The truth stung. It hurt. Just as Akito had said. Akito was right. The truth, that awful fact, bit into his heart, shredding his memory.

He had nothing—he was better off dead without Akito. He'd be better off dead… Better off dead…

Dead…

/\\\

Emerald opened and it seemed to him that years had passed. Silver framed his vision and the sky owed two golden suns. He groaned softly, moving slightly beneath the heavy sheets; a worriedly hopeful voice was the first thing he heard.

"Tori-san? Oh gods, Tori-san—you're all right!"

Such a recognizable voice… He knew who it was… He knew…but he couldn't remember. His mind was a hazed and lost; the only thing that seemed solid to him was the bed he was laying on, and even that didn't seem as steady as it should have been. He was panting now, his head feeling light and beginning to spin.

"Tori-san?" The voice again, so worried. "Hatori? Please…say something…"

His lips moved, so eager to placate that worried voice—somehow, he knew he'd give anything to make that voice happy. Nothing came out but a hoarse whisper. "What…happened…"

A relieved sigh and gentle hands smoothing back his hair. "Oh Hatori—Tori-san… You were hurt," came that gentle voice, though worry still tainted it. "You…you were hurt… But you're all right now…you're all right…"

He swallowed. "Then why…do I feel…so weak…?"

"You lost a lot of b-blood, that's all. You'll feel better soon." A small, nervous smile in that symphony of chimes, it seemed. "Now just go back to sleep Tori-san; you're safe… I swear I'll be right here when you wake up…"

His eyes fluttered closed and he fell almost instantly into darkness. His dreams were filled with sad golden eyes and silver wings, feathers turning to falling sakura before melting into blood-red rose petals that washed an angel's feet. There was someone else too, black hair and dark eyes, a knife held to its own throat, the sakura petals turning to ice and snow when they touchedits skin. Emerald opened again, far clearer than before, to see Ayame sitting in the bedside chair, his gaze fixed on the now-open window. Sunlight streamed in, so warm and comforting now; he sighed, near content in the sun and presence.

Ayame's face snapped to his at the sound and a relieved grin spread itself across that tired face. "Tori-san!" He kept his voice quiet and Hatori was impressed. "How are you feeling?"

A weak smile was all he could offer the younger man. "Better," he managed somehow. "How long have I been out?"

"About a day or so," answered the snake. "I'm so glad you're all right… But then, I knew you would be…"

The dragon frowned; he didn't believe his friend. Ayame's face was lined, pale, weary, and strained. Dark circles made the snake look all the more pale as well, and these bloodshot eyes and the smell of salt clearly told him his friend had been crying only hours previous.

However, Hatori decided to let the lie stand for the snake's pride. "I suppose you were right then," he said. Carefully, he tried to move, stretching first his arms, slowly lifting them above his head and tightening the muscles, before stretching his legs—his back, on the other hand, he didn't dare bother. It ached enough to tell him pain would be the answer to any stretching there.

Silence owned the room then, and it seemed that hour passed without a sound to interrupt the thoughts flying through Hatori's mind. The dragon took in his room, his eyes lingering on the broken lamp and the open blinds—he smiled a little. Ayame's gaze would shift between both the window and the dragon as though he couldn't decide where he should look. Hatori laughed a little. The snake blinked, confused.

"Tori-san?"

The dragon shook his head. "Nothing Ayame…it's nothing," he said. "You just looked so…uncomfortable; almost nervous around me—why?"

Ayame's breath quickened for a moment. "I… I don't—"

"Ayame." The snake recognized the stark seriousness in his friend's voice and he swallowed. "Please. I want the truth about this entire affair—I seem to be the only one left in the dark…"

It was the question Ayame had been fearing since Hatori had first opened his eyes. His thin hands twisted his kimono sleeves in his lap, his eyes flicking anywhere but the dragon's pale face. Tears were burning at the back of his eyes but hepushed on, taking a deep breath. "I'm sorry Tori-san," he said quietly. "I… I wanted to tell you—I really did! But you were already so worried…and I didn't want to burden you with it all…"

"And the hallucinogen?" Golden eyes widened.

"You already knew?"

Hatori sighed, tired. "Yes. Now…what happened?"

"I," stammered Ayame, his eyes trained on his constantly fumbling fingers, eyes burning still. "I don't know…exactly how it started. I don't remember where…I got my first high…or even when I became addicted." Hatori watched as that face melted to a reflective shade, eyes only half open. "All I know, was that it seemed like the only escape I had."

"When?" asked the older man; he'd somehow propped himself into a sitting position, his head resting on a pillow on the backboard. "When did this start?"

"Almost three years ago." The dragon quickly counted back the years. "That was…the year before Kana," muttered Ayame, noticing the dragon's frown. "At first, it was a beautiful escape, to be high. Then I became addicted and slowly, things became worse… I would see horrible things and I wouldn't know where I was… It was Hell. Gure-san was the only one who stayed by my side."

Hatori closed his eyes, swallowing dryly. "I…I'm so sorry Ayame… I didn't know."

The snake's eyes widened. "No!" he said, shaking his head hurriedly. "Don't be! I made Gure-san promise not to tell you—you have nothing to be sorry for!"

"Stop it Ayame," muttered the older man. "It was no excuse—I should have been there for you. I'm a doctor but I didn't see the signs. Why didn't you tell me?"

Ayame's golden eyes were turned to the floor, his silver hair fell like a milky curtain across his thin face, his dark lashes brushing his pale cheeks. A soft sigh escaped from his lips and his hands were limp in his lap. "Because I can't bear to have you worry about me… I didn't want you to see me that way… I couldn't bear to hurt you like that."

"Why?" Emerald eyes were piercing as he focused on the man sitting beside him. "Why didn't you tell me sooner, about how you feel?"

The snake's eyes were wide, but he didn't dare look up. "I… I don't understand Tori-san—"

"Why?"

Ayame flinched. "I can't… I can't do that to you…not after Kana-kun—I just can't!"

A flickering smile touched Hatori's lips and he shook his head. "Yes you can Ayame—please, tell me."

Tears were building at the backs of his eyes now, pushing forward, bleeding out to stain those soft cheeks. Ayame was shaking, near terrified; he swallowed. "I…I love you…Tori-san…"

It was the barest whisper, the softest breath of fresh air the dragon had felt since Kana, since his spring had left him. His emerald eyes softened and he reached out to gently brush the tears away with his fingertips, caressing that face as he did. He finally saw in those disbelieving eyes the love he'd been craving for so many years, the love he had thought that he'd found and lost in Kana. I t was home.

"Ayame, I promise," he said. "I will always be here, I won't leave; I will always be yours—I will always need you."

/\\\

Amethyst eyes widened as they watched the scene unfold. Hatori had somehow coaxed Ayame closer, taking the snake's face in his hands, and pressed his lips gently to the other man's. Yuki moved back so he was hidden from view behind the doorjamb, a smile on his lips.

For once, he was happy for his brother. Ayame had finally gotten his wish—Hatori was finally his. Somehow, it gave Yuki a flash of courage. Perhaps, if someone like Ayame could find love, why couldn't he? He looked down the hall; he knew Tohru was waiting back at Shigure's house, though under the naïve impression the dog and the rat had business with Akito.

What, he wondered, what was stopping him from showing her how much he cared? Kyou? No, never the foolish cat. Fear? Yes, an idiotic fear of losing her. She would never just leave him—at the very least, they'd still be friends.

He glanced again at the pair on the bed; they were cuddling, Hatori holding the snake so close as Ayame spread light kisses down the other man's jaw line. Again, Yuki smiled; it seemed he hadn't needed Hatori or Shigure's help—which was why he'd originally come nearly a week ago—he found he help exactly where he'd least expected it. His smile broadened slightly. "Thank you...Nii-san..."

/\\\

Water dripped quietly from the vase he'd broken against the wall, the plants, their sad flowers scattered, littered the far side of the room. He was alone, the small birds that had always seemed to frequent Akito's room no longer had any reason to come, but he didn't notice as he sat, frozen. Shigure's dark chocolate orbs never left their fixed gaze on the garden outside the shoji. It was twisted and broken, dead. A little ways from where the dog sat leaning against the wall in the corner, laid Akito; the patriarch's body was limp now but still so cold, his eyes open and empty, black and indigo faded to a shadowed gray.

All light seemed to have left, but the sun was still floating just above the horizon, waltzing in fire and a burning passion. Shigure only watched. He'd never felt this empty, this far gone before, but it didn't matter. Only one thing mattered to him now.

Aaya...

Carefully, he got to his feet, silken sheets slipping from his fingers. His feet led him, once more, down the deserted halls until he came to Hatori's room; the door was slightly ajar and he looked in. Pain gripped his heart in black claws twined with jade green thorns as he took in the sight. Ayame, nuzzled against Hatori, his eyes contentedly half-closed as the dragon's arms wrapped around his waist so protectively, sprinkling that silver hair with soft kisses.

His hands clinched at his sides, his eyes narrowing. Hatori had taken it, Hatori had taken it, Hatori had stolen it—his heaven. His heaven!

He released a breath in a rush and closed his eyes, breathing in deeply, his jealousy melting away like molasses. Stealing himself, he opened the door, a grin on his face though his eyes burned; a mask to hide the truth. "So, I see you finally told him, Aaya."

Ayame looked up, his eyes wide, surprised, as they rested on the dog. "Gure-san!" He sat up a little, chewing his lip. "Gure-san...I—"

The dog shook his head and turned his gaze from the snake to Hatori, the fake smile still plastered across his features. "I trust he's told you everything?"

"Yes," was the answer Hatori gave, so quiet. "And I swear he'll never be alone again—I will never leave him."

Shigure nodded, closing his eyes and willing himself to stay calm for the one he loved and his friend. He knew he should be happy and he tried—he truly tried. His forced smile wavered for the longest moment, before he turned to the open window, his eyes fathomless, his breaths coming faster.

Ayame frowned, confused and worried. "Gure-san?" he asked. "Please, what's wrong?"

The dog chuckled bitterly, turning back to take that flawed, perfect face between his palms. Without a word he buried his face in the crook of the snake's shoulder and neck, holding the smaller man to him. Ayame's eyes were wide, muted. He'd seen those eyes—the eyes that had always been so murky, so full of secrets, unreadable—become like pale, smoky quartz, near translucent, hidden truths and unbearable secrets naked and bare but so twisted he couldn't understand. "Gure-san..."

Ayame could feel the tears seeping through his kimono as his friend looked up again, his eyes wet and glazed, crystal tears slipping past sable lashes. Shigure swallowed, glancing at Hatori who remained silent, understanding that it was only between the snake and dog; Shigure looked back, caressing Ayame's porcelain cheek, relishing the feel.

He sighed heavily, as though he was on the verge of sobbing. "I...I'm sorry Aaya, for everything," he whispered quietly, his eyes closing and his forehead resting gently against the snake's. "Please... I don't deserve it, but...someday...I hope you can forgive me..."

Ayame swallowed, so confused. "Gure-san, what..."

The dog looked up, the tears slipping down his cheeks, and smiled. "I know you and Haa-san will be happy together... I wish you nothing but love, and luck... Goodbye...Aaya..."

He smiled, so comfortingly, and tenderly kissed Ayame's forehead before sending the dragon a look that clearly said 'protect him'. The he left. No more words. No explanations. Just a tender, chaste kiss and a wish for good luck. Shigure's quick strides melted to a desperate run as he cleared the hall, heading toward the room, the most fitting place; the room where Akito was. He locked the door behind himself, though he never noticed that the latch didn't catch. His eyes flitted wildly from place to place, losing control, before landing suddenly on the center, on Akito's crumpled form, and resting there.

Akito...

He swallowed. Akito...oh gods, Akito..."

No matter how long or hard he called the pale boy never answered, never moved, never responded, and soon Shigure was no more than a heap at the patriarch's side. He kissed those cold lips, one last kiss, one last time; his fingers felt numb as they shut those eyes, the tears burning again as he brushed his hand down that cool cheek. He carefully, slowly, got to his feet, pulling the silken sheets with him.

He was only half aware as he worked, but he worked quickly, proficiently, only feeling the sting of every harsh truth. It tore at him, at his frayed heart—the knowledge of what he was doing, the hard reality of it, but he didn't care. He had nothing—with Akito dead and Ayame… He had no purpose; he was no longer needed. He had no reason.

Akito had been right.

He smiled, a grief-stricken and bitter smile. "I'm sorry Aaya… Enjoy your heaven…but it is only Hell for me now… I hope…you can somehow understand…that I still, and forever will, love you…"

He stood there, the wood painful and comforting against his bare feet, the silk soft and terrifying against the warm skin of his neck. He watched, silent now, as the sun died, soaking the earth in blood-red light, a crumpled piece of paper clutched in his hand.

He was shaking, pale as the tears came faster, coursing down his face. He couldn't do this, couldn't stay there anymore. There was no comfort there—only an ice-covered hell remained for him. He swallowed, taking a deep breath as he took the final step into fate.

The rope of silk pulled taunt as the chair tipped; the wind seemed to moan a passing current and the sun had sank below the horizon, the world painted in indigo and blue now. The crumpled paper slipped from his still and limp fingers. The last chance, the last choice, the last resort.

On that limp, crumpled, torn piece of paper were the final words, his final reason for an escape denied. Tears stained the worn letter, smearing the already sloppy writing, but somehow, it was still legible, those words that screamed of broken dreams and a shattered soul. But there was no one to read them as a passionless, cruel wind tore it away, forcing it through the open shoji where it followed the dusting snowflakes to the single lonely bench near the bare trees. It rested for only a moment there before an icy gust sent it on with the flakes that fell like dying sakura petals—a single glimpse was all it allowed before it was forever lost to the eyes of man. No more than a haunting memory of the words remained.

"Sweet is true love tho' given in vain, in vain;

And sweet is death who puts an end to pain:

I know not which is sweeter, no, not I.

"Love art thou sweet? then bitter death must be:

Love, art thou bitter; sweet is death to me.

O Love, if death be sweeter, let me die.

"Sweet love, that seems not made to fade away,

Sweet death, that seems to make us loveless clay,

I know not which is sweeter, no, not I.

"I fain would follow love, if that could be;

I needs must follow death, who calls for me;

Call and I follow, I follow! let me die."

/Owari\\\

A/N: The end. Yes, that's right; the end. The. End. Finally! No more slaving over this story! I'm so happy!

Now, I want honest answers: who guessed what would happen at the end? Also, did you like it? As morbid as it sounds, I loved writing this one. I can't wait for everyone's reviews! (Though I know I get flames for the ending…ugh!) Anyway, didn't I tell you I'd finish it? Now that I've done all that hard work (and it was!), please do me a favor and review!

Kurai