I was about to type, "My updates are getting faster," but, actually, I can't judge that. Not right now, at least :P Ah, oh well. Who gives a fudge? xD

Yeah. "Fudge" is such a cool word, don't ya think? :P

Also, so little reviews for the last chapter D= Usually I get 10+! What happened? D: Ah, oh well. I hope my reviewers are back for this. Or else.

Well, here it is. Last chapter of "Sacrifice." Ah, I think I'm gonna miss writing for this story. Well, it can't be helped. I decided to update since I've got a huge exam next week—and well, I need to prep for it. And I won't be able to do that if I've got my conscious saying, "Update 'Sacrifice' or something!" nagging at my mind.

So ... wala! Let the awesome-ness begin! :D


xSnowiisan does not own Shugo Chara! or Heaven's Door.

Ikuto awoke to the sound of waves crashing against the shore. His closed his eyes tighter, making himself believe he was imagining this. Surely, Amu wouldn't have known the way? She was the one who relied on Ikuto to take her to the beach, so how could she found out the way to the beach?

Ikuto opened his eyes, finding himself actually at the beach. So he really was! And what a surprise there; finding that a girl as innocent, and cute as her would be capable of driving a car. [A/N: Sexiest, much? .__.]

"Ikuto?" It was a soft voice, one that he imagined inside his mind—well, he thought he did. The voice was sweet—sweet and calm and filled with serenit—

Hands on his shoulders shook him awake. He snapped to attention; his eyes scanning to see where he was.

At the beach?

How many times has he been dreaming that he's dreaming about being at the beach? Nothing made sense to him anymore.

"Ikuto?" This time, he knew the voice was coming from Amu. As his eyes slowly adjusted to the sinking sun in the distance, the twilight that was approaching, the wet feel of the sand beneath his feet, the wind through his midnight-blue hair, he could make out the silhouette of the petite girl he'd spent so much time with these past few days. "Ikuto, are you awake? Are you all right? Do you need anything—anything at all, you name it and I'll—"

Ikuto held up a finger to silence her.

"Don't worry, you old lady," he smirked, observing her blushed, angered face, but surprising himself by seeing the emotion in her eyes: relief. "I'm perfectly fine. In fact, if you handed me a surfboard right now, I could probably surf the waves like a hula dancer."

Amu sat beside him, her knees pulled up, her head on her knees, face facing his. Her eyes narrowed, though he saw her twitch her lips upward.

"Hula dancers don't surf," she explained. "Hula dancers dance. That's why they're called 'Hula dancers.' Because they dance. Get it now?"

Her waved her off with his hand.

"Yeah, yeah."

"Oh," she smiled, pointing towards a dark shadow leaning across a closed shop. "there's the surf board. You said you wanted to surf, no?"

Ikuto stared at her.

"Uh, well, you see, it was just a—what do you call those things? Expository? Descriptive?"

"Am I supposed to be your Japanese tutor now, or something? `Cause from what I know so far, you suck at it. You know the usual: verbs, nouns, pronouns."

He looked away from her, his gaze far away.

"I would like you to be my tutor," he said, quietly. "But, I don't have much time left. I might die today, tomorrow, or the day after." He shrugged his shoulders.

Amu stood up, grabbing his hand. She smiled, despite the clenching of her chest when she tried to imagine living on without him. He was a good friend, then. That's what she'd consider him—a friend. Nothing more. She couldn't. He didn't feel the same way about her like she did about him. But what would be wrong telling him now? When he said he didn't have time left, he could leave this world knowing that someone out there—someone he loves as well—loves him back, that would've—could've eased his soul. And with the slight possibility—what if he loved her back? This was all too complicated. She would think about it later; death made her sad, no matter how close it'd be, so wanted to avoid that subject unless the time comes.

"Don't talk like that," she said, her jaw locked in place. "Never talk like that ever again. When they realize you're okay, and release you and me, both from the hospital, I'll kick your ass."

Ikuto's eyes widened at her expression—at the skin contact. She said, 'when' not 'if.' Though the words sparked a little hope in him, it quickly diminished. She was too naïve. Amu's face lit up in a smile, as if what happened a minute ago never happened.

"Come on," she grinned, pointing towards the waves. "Let's go play 'Marco Polo!'"

Ikuto raised a skeptical eyebrow.

"'Marco Polo'? Seriously? Isn't that for . . . little kids?"

She did something in between a blush and a pout, and snatched her hand away from Ikuto's.

"Well, since we've got really little time left, why don't we act like the kids until we go?" she asked, looking at his expression.

"I see what you mean," he said slowly.

"But . . ." she urged, and then sighed, exasperated. "There's always the, 'But . . .' that stops us."

Ikuto cracked a grin that lasted only for a second.

"Well, think about it, Amu," Amu realized it had been a while since he had said her name. What a day! "If we act like kids now, then . . . how are we gonna act when we face our death as 'kids'?"

Amu released the pout.

"That's what you're worried about? That's easy! By that time, we can be 'Serious-Macho-Death-Facing' adults," she laughed and smiled again, motioning him towards the sea waves. "So don't worry, Santa Clause."

He stood up, dusting off his jeans. He frowned. Going in the ocean with jeans, he thought. Ah, oh well. Can't be helped.

"Santa Clause?" he asked, standing before her. "Where'd I get a name like that? I'm no fatty. I'm not that muscled either. Not that Santa Clause has muscles . . ." he muttered, gazing towards the sea.

"Yes, you are." she answered before she could stop herself, her face flushing a bright red. As he looked at her, incredulous. He raised a disbelieving eyebrow.

"So—I look fat to you?" His tone raised incredulously towards the end. Amu's flushed cheeks turned even brighter.

"N-n-no! I meant your muscles!" Amu froze, shocked at herself. Did she just say what she think she said? Amu mentally slapped herself across the face. Stupid, stupid, stupid!

"Ah, I see you notice my muscles. Of course. No one can resist my charm," his voice dropped low to a whisper as he leaned close enough to Amu's face; he could kiss her if he wanted to. "And pretty soon, you'll fall for me—well, unless you already have." Something in his eyes flashed before her, but just as quickly as it came—it had gone.

Amu's eyes widened in horror: Had he found out? If so, then what did he think?

But her horrors quickly diminished as he doubled over, laughing. He was clutching his sides as if he were having cramps; and Amu couldn't help her stomach drop. She wanted to be mad at him—to cry—be frustrated at him, but what good would it do? She couldn't do it either. He would probably comfort her, tell her he was sorry, but that wasn't what she wanted. She wanted him to know she loved him—to not act just friends. But, Amu had enough sense in her mind to know not to push it. She'd tell him later—when they return to the hospital and convince the doctors to release them.

So, she played along.

Amu playfully punched his arm.

"S-s-shut up!"

Ikuto's laugh faded as Amu leaned over to pull up her jeans. She pulled them up till her knees, once and again, glancing at the sea tides, calculating how far she could go with her jeans pulled up. When she was done, she turned to face Ikuto, to tell him to play Marco Polo with her, but he was gazing at her that she stopped.

"Hey, Ikuto—"

He was gazing at her with such a warm gaze—a gaze she'd never, ever seen before in her life. She felt herself walking closer to him, and almost tripped over her own feet. Once she almost fell, though, he seemed to snap out of whatever reverie he was in, and smirked.

"The charm is working," he sang a little breathlessly, grabbing her hand and leading her over to the shoreline. The wind was picking up, and it was blowing through her pink rose colored hair, her clothes dampening as water sprayed against them, and her arms containing goosebumps from the cold wind.

Yet, she loved it.

She sat on the sand, pulling Ikuto down with her. She didn't feel uncomfortable around him anymore; there was no point in being afraid of what he would say. She laid her head against his strong, broad shoulder, a shiver running down her spine when she felt his breath on her neck. She turned slightly to look at him, finding him closing his eyes, the direction of his face facing her, his lips so near her ear, his nose buried deep into her hair. For a second, she thought he whispered something like, "I'm sorry," but it seemed unlikely, since she couldn't even think of what he did that he needed to apologizing for, so she shrugged it off.

After a long moment while gazing at the sun setting, Ikuto said quietly, "Do you love it?"

Amu didn't answer immediately. His voice was strange—odd, as if he was struggling to not reveal something. She turned her face to look at him, but he was gazing at the ocean with an intense gaze again.

"Yeah," she whispered. "I do."

"Do you love me?"

Her eyes widened. What did he ask her?

"W-what?"

He didn't have time to answer this time; he fell on the sand, curled up in a tight ball, his face in wretched pain. Seeing him like this was odd, as if he was a little kid afraid of a thunderstorm. Amu quickly crawled towards his side, her eyes frighteningly wide, her hand shaking as she touched his cheek.

"Medication?" she whispered, trying to keep her voice from rising an octave. She thought she saw him shake his head, as if to answer her, but blocked the thought from her mind. He will survive this.

She quickly scrambled to her bare feet, trying to remember where she had parked the car. Since he had passed out, she decided to drive, and arrived at the beach after a couple of U-turns. Her mind remembered, and she ran as fast as she could.

~*~

It had taken Amu two minutes to get to the car, unlock it, and grab the medication.

Two minutes.

To run back, took her approximately a minute.

Only one minute.

But, with a total of three minutes, when she arrived, she had found him motionless on the sand, chest not heaving, skin drained of all color, hair losing its shine, and eyes that seemed to stare seemingly into the dark, black, ocean. Eyes that would never shine again. Eyes where she would never get to gaze into them anymore. Eyes that gazed at her with that one warm—

In all of three minutes, he had died.

She wouldn't believe it at first—when she found him. She thought he was unconscious; a common feeling in experiencing cancer. So, she sat by him, and with already shaky hands, thrust three pills in his mouth.

When he didn't awake after two hours, she thrust three more in.

Waiting approximately four hours after he'd gone unconscious, she started to lose hope. Thought he was dead. Thought he really was gone from this world.

First, a tear came out of her eye as she laid her head on his relinquished heart beat. She wiped it away, and the tears stopped for a while. Her hands moved around his cold body, first touching his wrist, feeling for a pulse, and finding none. Her hands flew to his neck, and she felt there. Still no pulse.

She fell back on her heels, shocked.

In all but three minutes he had the attack, he was dead.

In three minutes.

And it was all her fault.

If she had just carried the medication somewhere near her, he probably would've been alived. Though, it was death. And death was inescapable, wasn't it? At least, that's what she had been told. But, the excitement of arriving at the sea had made her forgotten all her troubles.

Now, as tears leaked through her eyes, she didn't bother to stop them. They released the old pain and new pain freely. The frustration of living in a prison so long; the frustration of no one knowing how she felt; the pain of finding him, falling in love with him, and him dying.

After many tries, her hand found Ikuto's cold one—the one devoid of all life, and she clutched onto it tightly, as if her life depended on it.

It was frustrated tears mixed with new, painful tears that cascaded down her cheeks in streams that landed onto her hand's, and Ikuto's. In movies, didn't tears on your lover's hand revive them? But, she knew not to believe them. It was too naïve. She was too naïve.

Her hand fell from Ikuto's, not being able to hold on any longer with her strength. She closed her eyes, and whispered, "Thank you, Ikuto. For everything."

She hoped God would love her and sympathize enough to deliver that message to Ikuto in Heaven.

It was now nightfall, stars twinkling everywhere. The stars seemed to be twinkling with delight, laughing. It was as if God was laughing at her; thinking how naïve she was, not knowing reality—a reality where death and disease were common.

And she agreed. She was naïve, thinking she could battle against reality, and save Ikuto from dying. Save him from death.

But, the truth she now realized was: No one could save you from death, could they?

OMG.

So. Easy. To. Write.

(That doesn't make me a sadist, right? D;)

xD

Okay, I was not expecting this to be easily written. In fact; I thought I was gonna have the toughest time writing this. But, actually, I've realized I love writing angst // tragedy stories where one of the character dies than romance stories. Though I'm a sucker for romance, Shugo Chara! needs more tragedy! D: So, lucky me that I have at least three more stories that are gonna have something terrible happen in them.

Okay, first story with my way of the male protagonist dying, since I said that this was based off a manga, but my way was different.

So . . . rate me on how I did! So I can know if I . . .

A. Need to work more on it
B. Drop it
or
C . Change my future tragedy stories to "romance" stories.

So . . . your review really matters o_o

Flames are more than welcome.
Pointing out mistakes is fine.
Suggestions are okay.
Telling me you loved it is great!

Review?

(P.S. You guys also decide if an Epilouge will be needed! I personally don't, but if you want one . . .)