A/N: Not as depressing as the tile makes it sound.

Eleven: Death

Silently, the snow is falling, building in the darkness of eternal twilight, covering the small blood-stained boy with thoughts.

What does it mean to be alive?

Was it the fact that he still breathed, that his heart still beat and sped, that he was there?

He wonders just what determines the classification of 'alive'.

Thoughts? Hopes? Dreams? Emotions?

He wonders, because surely, he isn't alive. He wonders what it's like to be alive.

He doesn't think anymore, he abandoned his hopes and dreams in a stream of crimson; his emotions only span one spectrum—fear and guilt.

But then…

What does it mean to be dead?

Is it the absence of all these things? But how are we to know what a person thinks and feels once they stop talking?

Wait, is death the absence of noise? Is death when someone shuts down completely, not saying a word, their breath so silent that it's almost nonexistent?

He feels that he himself is surely dead, for he can't even feel his own heart beat anymore. His breaths are silent, and he feels no more.

He wonders because all these bodies around him are dead, but they look like they did in life.

He wonders because his brother is at his feet, dead.

He breaches the stint between life and death briefly, screaming in terror at what he's done. And then he dies yet again.

Softly, the snow is falling, glittering around the castle like magic, muffling the screams that echo across the wasteland, doing nothing to cover the bleeding bodies that decay around the king.

What does it mean to promise?

If words are simply words, they hold no meaning. They fall from lips like gentle rain, covering ears with sweet honey… but they mean nothing.

What makes a promise a promise?

Is it the feelings behind it? Or is it the feelings of the person who heard it?

He wonders because he's about to make the first promise he ever made.

What does it mean to feel?

He's already forgotten, or maybe he just never learned. Everything crushes him, his insides are frozen. He can't move on. He is a spiral of unhappiness, his simple joys transforming into other's pain.

He can't feel. So he's forgotten how to.

He wonders because sealing the king and leaving them behind is the most painful thing he's ever done.

Quietly, the rain is falling, crashing to earth with a soft sound, punctuating the witch's words, covering him with sorrow and apprehension.

What does it mean to lose?

Loss, he reasons, is the absence of something important. He knows what it's like to lose something so important that he feels like he could never move forward again…

So he froze his life.

He wonders because watching the boy give it all to save the girl, he realizes that he might just be wrong in his definition of loss.

But then…

What is it like to endure?

To continue forward despite all adversity, towards that one goal that you'd give anything for? To move forward… to move forward…

He wonders because he's never had a progressive goal before…

Dully, the rocks crumble around him, a crater in the wall the size of his body, barely covering the sounds of the ninja's anger.

He wonders what it's like to truly care.

Surely, the ninja doesn't care for him—it's simply anger at losing the backup he provides. The irritation at having to carry him to the bar, then back to the coffee shop where they lived. Anger, irritation, hatred…

That was what he wants to hear in the soldier's reprimand, and that's what he hears.

He doesn't hear the concern or the gruff warmth in the ninja's voice. He misses it because he's never cared for anyone and no one's cared for him.

But he wonders what it's like, because something roars to life in his chest.

So he wonders why this pains his heart.

He's used to being hated, so why does it hurt so much?

He wonders because he desperately wants Kurogane not to hate him.

Shattering, the wall is shattering; the sound is almost deafening against his ears, heightened by the pain searing through his head.

What is it like to die?

Is it painful like it is now? Or will, at the final moment, all the pain leave his body and he will be lucid as death comes to take him away. Will he be aware of dying? Is it a slow transition into nothingness…?

But what is death? His old childhood question leaves him breathless, confused, and sorrowful. He'll have to leave this person, that's what death was. Leaving and not coming back.

He trembles and sobs softly, because it hurts.

Why does it hurt?

All his life, he wanted nothing more to die. Was it because of the breaking of his second promise? No… It was because he was leaving. Because he could never see him again.

Because he was dying for something he knew he could never do.

"I'm sorry."

Piercingly, the silence was broken, his voice harsh from screaming and crying, but loud even to his own ears; it did nothing to soothe the tension of betrayal.

What did it mean to betray?

To go behind someone's trust, to hurt them indelibly.

What did it mean to trust?

To put faith in someone, no matter what.

Why did they trust him? Why did they care? Why did he let this happen?

He wonders because he feels like something within him has died.

It's deafening, the harsh labored breathing of the ninja.

He wonders once more what death is.

It is leaving. It is disappearing. You can never touch that person again. Gone. Gone.

He wonders because he does not want that person to die!

Why? Because he loves him. But…

What does it mean to love?

He cannot explain it, he just knows.

Silently, the blossoms fall to the ground, coating the pathways with light pink snow, soothing his sorrow.

Lips touch lips and skin caresses skin, and he knows what it's like to be alive.

He knows what it's like to feel, to care, to promise, to lose, to endure—he knows them all inexorably now. He knows the sting of sorrow and the joy of touching and living. Everything is beautiful now because he knows how to trust, but he also knows how to betray trust, and now he's learning to regain it. He knows what love is and what pain is.

He now knows, too, what it's like to die. There are many types of death, he realizes, spiritual and emotional and physical; they all present different symptoms, but the pain is real no matter what happens. He knows the death of a friend, the death of a lover, the death of a past, a country, an era…

He surprises himself, for he now knows that even though he was surrounded by death, he never truly knew what it meant because he never understood life.

He has finally moved forward.

His hands slide into the ninja's, their finger's locking together gently. They break apart in all but that, but remain connected at a deeper level.

And he knows that this connection will never die. He doesn't even stop to wonder.