Title: Pyre.
Series: "Samurai Deeper Kyo"
Disclaimer: Akimine Kamijyo owns.
Warnings: Character death, cremation.
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Hotaru, family. Yuan.
Rating: PG-13.

Everyone was quiet but for sniffles and the occasional sob that they couldn't swallow in time. The quintuplets were clinging to each other, making sure that the others wouldn't leave. Anna and Angelica were staring at the ground, tears running down their cheeks. Anri and Julian were avoiding everyone's glances, expressions blank. Anthony looked like he was still in shock—Hotaru couldn't blame him. It hadn't quite sunk into himself yet, either.

During the collapse of the Red Tower, Yuan had died.

Hotaru knelt before the body of his master, his father figure, his friend. Yuan's body was unmarred for the most part, but the dark stain on his red shirt told Hotaru that he had been wounded by the debris, stabbed in the back from metal and stone. A curious, suffocating feeling swelled inside him. His eyes burned and his hands clenched so tightly into fists that his short nails had managed to pierce the skin, blood seeping in between his fingers. This was... so wrong.

Yuan looked naked without his blindfold, laying on the ground, surrounded by his family. Hotaru frowned suddenly and looked around for the cloth, finding it limply around Yuan's neck, still knotted. Reaching over, ignoring Julian's sharp look, Hotaru's blood stained fingers untied the blindfold from Yuan's neck and carefully retied it, properly around his eyes. When Anthony gave him a questioning look, he said, "I met him with it on." It seemed to be answer enough because Anthony nodded, returning his gaze to his knees.

Hotaru stood then, sword in hand. Anri and Julian seemed to know what he was about to do because they stood as well, gently prodding the younger ones into taking several steps back. Holding his sword out, he summoned the fires that Yuan had taught to him and cremated Yuan's body until not even the bones remained. Yuan had, half-joking, told him once that he wanted to be cremated by his own flames in the event of his death and it was Hotaru's "duty" to be the one to do it. He was familiar to the scent of burning human flesh and ash—he had become immune to it, but Yuan's scent made him want to be ill.

He was suddenly painfully aware of the tears that ran down his cheeks, dripping to the ground when they ran out of skin. A hand gently clasped his shoulder and Hotaru's gaze shot up, yellow eyes meeting the yellow eyes of his half-brother, who gave him a sympathetic, concerned look. "I don't understand," he finally said, his voice choked.

"Understand what?" Shinrei asked.

Swallowing, Hotaru gestured helplessly to the ashes that had once been his master. "I didn't cry when my mother died." He wiped his eyes on his sleeve. "I didn't cry when our father tried to kill me... So why..." He swallowed thickly, large tears spilling from his eyes. "Why am I crying now?"

Shinrei's hand tightened on his shoulder. "Because you loved him."

Hotaru made a distressed sound in the back of his throat as he nodded. "It hurts," he admitted in a soft, strained voice, pressing his sleeve to his eyes.

It hurt so much when Fubuki died, so, Shinrei could relate. Pulling his half-brother to him, Shinrei wrapped his arms around him securely, knowing full well that this was probably the only time he would ever get the chance to act like a real brother to him. He placed his chin on Hotaru's head – Hotaru's geta had been abandoned some time ago and he was short enough without them to reach Shinrei's shin. "I know," he murmured softly as Hotaru's hands gripped the gi he borrowed. He felt the small tremors that over-took his younger brother and his heart hurt—he knew Hotaru wasn't an emotional person and this was killing him enough to be.

Absently, Shinrei noted that the majority of Yuan's family had broken down, the older girls crying onto each other's shoulders, the quintuplets sobbing onto laps or to each other. Anri leaned against Anthony who had tears silently running down his cheeks, Anri's own eyes wet with unshed tears. Julian had his face buried in his hands, silent, his shoulders trembling slightly with Shihoudou's somewhat comforting hand on one of them.

This was so wrong.