Sixteen: Parting

Kurogane collapsed into the chair beside the fireplace, his head pounding and vision swimming as he struggled to keep his eyes open. He couldn't remember anymore the last time he'd slept; it was beginning to seem like something he had done a lifetime ago, as another person altogether.

"Kurogane-san..."

He rubbed his eyes and glanced up. Watanuki was standing at the table, filling two bowls with the soup he had just finished preparing over the fire. It smelled as delicious as ever, but Kurogane was too exhausted to feel any interest in it. "Bring it in to him," he said, waving feebly towards where Fai was sleeping in the bedroom. "I'll help him get it down."

Watanuki shook his head. "This is for you to eat, Kurogane-san. You haven't had anything all day."

"I don't need-"

"Yes," Watanuki interrupted. "You do." He forced the bowl into Kurogane's hands. "You're in no shape to take care of Fai-san right now, since you're barely even taking care of yourself."

Kurogane sighed, but took a sip of the soup to appease Watanuki. He was past the point of being able to appreciate the flavor and taste, but his stomach was grateful for the nourishment after running on nothing for such a long time.

"The doctor was here this morning, right?" Watanuki asked, sitting down beside Kurogane. "Is there any news?"

"Nothing good."

"Ah. Well, Seishirou-sensei is a bit of a sadist, so maybe he was exaggerating?"

Kurogane shook his head. "I don't know much about that guy's illness, but I know enough to tell that he isn't getting better. His body is tougher than it looks, but even he can't go on enduring that kind of pain at every moment." He clenched his fist, staring out the window into the bleak gray landscape of the village in the midst of a summer that had yet to escape from spring. "I want that guy to fight with everything he has. But I can't take it."

"Seeing him suffer?"

"And knowing that losing him is the only way out we've chosen to take." Kurogane finished off his soup and picked up the bowl still left for Fai. "It's getting dark. You'd better head back before it gets colder. I can take it from here."

"But, Kurogane-san, you really need to sleep. I could always stay over and look after Fai-san for you."

Kurogane shook his head. "You have someone waiting for you. Don't make him worry. I'll rest after that guy gets his food and medicine."

Watanuki looked doubtful, but at last relented with a nod. "I'll try and come back tomorrow afternoon. But it will make things difficult for both of us if you end up sick as well."

"I won't," Kurogane said, waving Watanuki off. He didn't at all intend to sleep, but telling Watanuki that he was afraid that the moment he closed his eyes would be the moment he lost Fai for good would only make him worry all the more. Even if he ended up getting sick or making things difficult, for once it didn't matter at all to him. If it was inevitable that Fai could not be spared, the least he could do was make sure he wasn't alone up until the very end.

When he entered the room, Fai was half-awake, digging into his forehead with his fingers as if trying to tunnel inside himself to attack directly at the source of his pain. Kurogane had trimmed back his nails so he wouldn't be able to injure himself, but there were still little red welts on his skin when Kurogane eased his hands away, proof of the desperation born of the excruciating pain he was suffering.

"Kuro-sama," Fai whimpered, lost in his delirium. "It won't go away."

"Sssh," Kurogane hummed. He ran his hand soothingly down Fai's back. "I know it hurts, but it'll be even worse without food or medicine. Here, open up." He placed a hand on Fai's jaw, helping it open. "Good. Try and hold still for me."

Little by little, he helped Fai swallow the soup, praying that this time he would be able to keep it down and receive the nourishment he so desperately needed. He had always been slender, but his illness had made him uncomfortably underweight, so much so that Kurogane could barely feel him when he held him in his hands.

Fai calmed down a little when he had taken his medicine, so Kurogane gently shifted their position on the bed, cradling Fai against his body and pressing his hand against the burning heat of his forehead. Whatever pain lingering beneath was unreachable, but Kurogane liked to think that Fai could feel him, and that the warmth he gave was stronger than everything else.

They rested there for a long time, Fai drifting in and out of sleep and Kurogane keeping him close, sinking into a dream-like state while still leaving his eyes fixed on Fai and monitoring his labored breathing. Though Fai was light, Kurogane's own body felt like a dead weight, made heavy by the burden of a future he feared and a present that was brutally hurting the person he loved. He could remember his mother smiling down upon him, telling him that all things held significance, even in losing and parting, but he couldn't rationalize why this was happening, why living should be made to be an even greater pain than dying.

"You are strong," a soft voice whispered, almost as if it was speaking from inside his mind. "But because you are strong, you are fragile. There is a place the grieving go where they can only wish for the one thing that cannot come true and lose themselves inside of that wish. Do not stray so close, Kurogane. Do not let the soul he loved so much vanish."

Kurogane closed his eyes. The words spoken to him sounded so familiar, as if they had been shared once with him before. The voice, too, was one he knew, and though he was certain beyond a doubt that he was hearing his mother, he knew that she was gone, and there was no hope of hearing her now. Having her come back was, as the voice had just gently reminded him, the one wish that could never come true.

However, when he opened his eyes again, his mother was sitting in front of him, a bright red spot blooming on her miko robes. He rubbed his eyes in disbelief, but even when they were clear she still sat before him, smiling with the gentle eyes he had lost so long ago.

"How-"

She held up a finger to shush him. "It is with the last of my time that I was able to come here. And because you too have weakened, I was able to find you in dreams. But there is little time for me to speak, so I must say only what needs to be said." She reached out a hand to stroke his face. "But you must forgive this sentimental woman, since I cannot help but wonder if my Kurogane will look like you when he is older. I do not wish to leave him, even though I know my passing will set into motion something greater. He will be grieved, as will you, but there is purpose in the path this world takes, and purpose in living, no matter how great the pain of it is. Your heart has grown strong, so surely you know there is meaning. Even in this. These are things that must happen."

She rose to her feet, clasping her arms over her chest and smiling. "You need not mourn that you suffer. Mourn only that you were too powerless to stop it, and then become stronger until you have power enough to change your world with your own two hands. And know that should you fail, your life is not the end. There are no endings for your soul, my child. Only new beginnings, new chances for you to grow and become something more with the life you were given. But now it is time for me to begin my journey again. Farewell, Kurogane. Live without fear and fight for the day when your soul will find his once again."

"What-" Kurogane started to say, but the vision of his mother suddenly clouded, and when he opened his eyes, he was back in the room, Fai's body trembling in his arms.

"A dream?" he murmured. It had grown darker, but surely he couldn't have slept for all that long. And even if it had been a dream, why had it felt so real? Why had the woman he'd seen resembled his mother so clearly and yet spoken as if she was someone else entirely, and knew someone who was him and yet wasn't?

"Kuro-sama," Fai's voice whispered, sounding exhausted but yet more lucid than it had been for some time. "You... you are... here with me, right?"

"Yes."

"Then... let me look at you."

Kurogane shifted back so he was kneeling beside the bed, looking down at Fai's sunken face. He took Fai's hand and placed it against his own cheek so that he would be able to feel exactly where he was, even though he couldn't see him.

"I'm here," he said. "Can you feel me?"

Fai's fingers skimmed across his face, and his blind eyes darted upon each of his features, unable to settle on that which they couldn't see. It felt so hopeless, but Kurogane followed his eyes all the same, wishing that they would find him once again, if only for a single moment.

"Look at me," Fai murmured, all of a sudden going still. His eyes traveled slowly until they at last settled on Kurogane's and came to a halt. A smile dawned across his features, sweeter and more at peace than Kurogane had ever seen him before. "Ku...ro..."

"Fai." The name he had never said before in all his life felt oddly powerful as he at last spoke it, both overwhelming in its beauty and heart-rending in its sadness. He had always thought he would say Fai's name for the same reason he had first spoken Yui's, as a final way of getting him to rethink the careless ways he treated his life, but those days had long passed, and there was nothing deliberate in the way he was losing Fai now. But it was the only thing he had left to give that would let Fai know in simple terms not only how much he loved him, but also how dearly and truly their life together had transformed him.

Fai's eyes little by little closed, and his hand went slack and fell away from Kurogane's face. "Oi!" Kurogane said, every cell of his body growing tense with panic. "Don't..." He grabbed Fai's wrist, feeling the flagging heartbeat against his hand. "Shit," he choked out. His body demanded him to do something, but for once he couldn't think of anything that would help or change what was happening. He stared down at his hands, ashamed of his helplessness, ashamed that after all he had done to keep Fai with him for all this time, there was nothing more that could be done.

"Don't you... don't go like this," he barked, but there was nothing his words could change, no further they could reach. The pulse he felt beneath his fingers had stopped, and all at once he was horribly and achingly alone.

"Wait..." he said, his voice wrecked with despair. "Why didn't I... why couldn't I?" His body seemed to collapse in on itself, his head falling to the bed beside Fai's body. All the exhaustion and lack of sleep from the past months washed over him, but more than that, the feeling of helplessness drained him of any of the strength he might have had. He had thought he had braced himself for this, at least as much as one could prepare for the loss of something so precious, but the reality of it was even more crushing than he had thought it would be. Even though there was some relief in the knowledge that Fai was no longer enduring the pain of what had invaded his body, the emptiness in his own life and knowledge that he would never be able to speak to or hold or share a moment with the soul that had been the center of his world for every moment of his life overwhelmed everything else.

How could there be meaning in this? How could something so horrible, so painful be something that needed to happen?

Kurogane closed his damp and heavy eyes, images and words flowing through his mind in a jumble, providing him no connection or meaning or answer. It was almost too easy to sink into this numb oblivion, to lose himself in this place where the world went on without him and he did not need to choose or wish or move forward with time. But no matter which way he looked at it, all it was was running away. He could not stop time or wish away death or even chain the memory of Fai to his grief. His life was beloved by the person he loved, and if continuing on was the best way to honor that love and the beauty of the life they had lived together, he would continue on, wishing for what he had wished for from the very beginning: that the soul of the person most precious to him would always know happiness and peace.

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When Kurogane opened his eyes again, the first light of morning was streaming through their window, haloing the room in a warm light that cut through the unseasonable chill. The rain had dried while he slept, and the village had been erased of its damp and defeated atmosphere, leaving it devoid of anything that would make it less than beautiful to behold. Just looking at it pissed Kurogane off. He wanted to break something, to make the world understand that even if it had to move forward, it should suffer just as much as he was suffering, and properly mourn the loss of the thing that had made it so lovely.

He was too angry to sit still, even though he knew that he needed to contact Doumeki about handling the body, or at least reach out to Ashura, who would surely need the time to work through the pain this news would cause. The need to upend the insufferable peace surrounding him was much more pressing, and there was one place above any other that he wished to see suffer the brunt of his anger.

Before he left, he gazed down one last time at the body that had been a home to Fai's soul, the body he had known and treasured even more than his own. There were no words he knew that could convey every single emotion that existed in his heart at that moment, and perhaps drawing up something to say was not even necessary. Fai was no longer a part of that body, even though his physical memories were still imprinted within it. But even so, he felt that if he didn't make his peace in some way, moving forward would be all the more difficult for him.

"Thank you," he said quietly, clearing his throat. The sound of his voice sounded so fragile to him, so emptied of the strength and unshakable conviction that had once filled every syllable. "Thank you, and goodbye."

It was chilly outside, but Kurogane paid it no mind as he made his way to the Reed manor further down the path. The cold wasn't going to kill him, and as long as he could satisfy the pent up frustration in his body, he didn't care if he caught a cold later. That, too, could not kill him; as long as valuing Fai's memory depended on his will to survive, he would survive for as many years as he was given.

When he at last reached the manor, Kurogane lifted the ax he had pulled from the fireplace before he'd left and brought it crashing down upon Yuuko's walls. He knew it wouldn't hit, and that the blade would strike upon the barrier she had put there instead, and he was gratified by the sharp clank it made when it did. He couldn't care less about Yuuko or the house, but he wanted the barrier to shatter at his hands. What was the purpose of relying on such a thing? There was no way to protect everything, or to reach a resolution that would bring happiness to every person. A barrier was just as fallible, just as imperfect in its strength as he himself was. There was no reason why he could not dispel its illusion of perfect safety with his own hands.

Time and time again, he brought the ax crashing down upon the barrier, filling his every movement with all of his anger and grief. The ax continued to clang against it, seemingly powerless in the face of Yuuko's magic, but while there was a limit to her power, there was no longer a limit to his determination. The more and more he swung his ax against the wall, the deeper and deeper it seemed to travel within the barrier, until the moment came where it passed through it entirely, at last cutting into the walls of Yuuko's home.

Satisfied, he threw the ax to the ground and exhaled deeply, releasing all the anger that had boiled up within him. He hadn't been strong enough to protect what mattered, but he could grow stronger. It was not the ending; only a new beginning. Even if Fai was gone, that didn't mean he had to stop growing.

"Have you had enough?" Yuuko's voice came from behind him. She placed her hand on his shoulder. "Come inside and rest. I will send Doumeki to your home to take care of him."

He didn't want to do as she told him to, but neither did he have the will to go back to his own house at the moment. Now that he had destroyed what he had come here to destroy, he wasn't even sure what he wanted to do as the next step. The question he was grappling with was still holding him back. What was the meaning to this, to any of this?

Without him even registering what was happening, Yuuko led him inside the house and prepared a cup of tea, along with a small bit of food. "I'll return when all is settled," she said quietly. "If you can, rest. You have gone without sleeping and eating enough for so long that it is too much to ask for you to handle all that has happened in your weakened state."

"Oi, witch." Kurogane lifted up his head. "You told me once that I couldn't change the fact that I would experience pain, but that I could at least choose what I was going to do about it."

Yuuko gazed at him for a moment, her expression unchanging. "Yes," she said at length. "You are alive and have presumably chosen to move forward. Since you have chosen this, it is your obligation to decide what you will do with the existence you have accepted."

"Then explain something. You say you 'know the world' and that there are... other places... different from where we are now. That there's a place where that guy's illness might have been cured."

Yuuko nodded. "I must admit that you managed to surprise me by not taking that option, and I'm not easily surprised. Your nature in most cases would have demanded you to save him, even if Fai hated you for it."

"I won't lie. Up until the end, I considered it. But..."

"But?"

"The decision he made... it wasn't for the wrong reasons. If he had been doing it to throw his life away or devalue himself, I would have stopped him in a heartbeat. But for once, that guy's head was on straight. He was thinking of what he really wanted, for himself and for me. If I rejected that guy's choice when it really mattered, it would be like throwing his feelings back in his face." Kurogane's throat felt tight, and he swallowed deeply to clear it. "Even if he no longer had his memories... I'm sure a part of him would always somehow hold the knowledge that I didn't trust him with what he held as most important. And when I gave myself to him, I swore I would never make him feel that way again for all our lives."

"I see."

"But I don't want to talk about that right now. That other world you mentioned didn't always know how to cure that illness from the very beginning, did it?"

"No world 'begins' with that sort of knowledge. A world is born with life, and those who live choose what the world will become. The world I spoke of has focused on the exploration of all that exists and the development of tools that will help them understand it and that will create new possibilities not readily apparent. That was the path the people who lived there took."

"And researching that particular illness was something they deliberately chose to do."

"Yes."

"And that choice was made because that illness took the lives of people who were loved. That was what they could do to keep other people from suffering the same pain and keep more people from dying."

"Yes. That is how living works. Because this village flooded, we have looked for ways to harness and contain the river so we will not have to live in fear every time the season of rain comes. Because children and mothers are lost in childbirth, a midwife learns to advance her craft to assure that no one need bury their own child or wife. Because we depend on our rice crop and go hungry when it fails, we have improved our means of planting, irrigation, and harvest. It is through our suffering and lack that we learn to grow and improve so as not to bring more suffering upon us and the ones we love. If we did not experience pain or difficulties, we would become content, and in our contentment we would forget to grow and do more with our lives than simply exist. There are more worlds in this universe than you can comprehend, but every world where life exists has learned this lesson, and has become something different because the people who live there strive for change and desire with all their hearts to satisfy their wants and fill their emptiness. And this world is no different."

Yuuko knelt down in front of Kurogane, looking him square in the eye. "I am sure you have asked yourself already why it needed to be him, why Fai-kun had to be the one to suffer. With Yui, it was easier for you to understand. A series of choices made by Shashi and her family, Ashura, Fai, Yui himself, and many others led to that outcome, and the flood solidified it. But with Fai, his body simply failed him. It could have happened to anyone. Why his body? Why him?" She reached out to draw her finger down his jaw. "Do you know the answer?"

Kurogane batted her hand away. "Who knows? That guy... when a person like him is lost, it doesn't seem fair. And when things aren't fair, no one just sits back and lets it happen."

"Exactly. When a criminal falls ill, we consider it justice and have no motivation to extend ourselves to save him. When our enemies suffer, we assume they are only receiving their due, and even rejoice when they are lost. But when suffering falls on ourselves and that which we hold dear, then we are moved to act, and then we extend ourselves to change. If misfortune only fell upon those who 'deserve' it, the balance of the world would be upset and we would stagnate for as long as those who are good fail to comprehend the consequences of suffering pain. That is why we each suffer fortune and misfortune. By experiencing joy we discover what it means to possess happiness, and by suffering pain we realize what we must overcome and sacrifice in order to be happy. Yes, it hurts us deeply and fills us with despair, but the same heart that now mourns Fai loved him and gave him transcendent happiness in life, and now may still love him and give him peace in death. That is a choice that it is up to you to make. But your grief is not without meaning, Kurogane. Surely you understand this, deep within your heart."

Yuuko rose to her feet and draped a fur stole over her shoulders. "I will fetch Doumeki now. You may do as you wish, but I suggest once again that you rest. You will have time enough to consider what will come next when you wake."

"Oi," Kurogane persisted. "When you get the priest, get the doctor, too. I don't know how much it will help, but even though that guy is... the presence within him will still be there, right?"

Yuuko tilted her head. "I do not know much about it, but since it is not spiritual in nature, I suppose it would be."

"Then... give the doctor permission to study it. Maybe it won't yield much, but it's better than nothing."

"Are you certain?"

"It's too late to save him. I know that. Finding more about what happened won't change that he's not here anymore. But the next time this happens to someone else, they shouldn't have to hear that nothing is known about it and that the only way to fix it is going somewhere else and giving up the thing most important to them. If other worlds can figure it out, then we'll do the same for ourselves."

"I see." Yuuko smiled slightly. "That is the choice you are making. He will be honored by you, Kurogane. And you honor yourself in understanding that there is more than one way to be strong."

When she left the room, Kurogane forced down the tea and snacks, still not feeling enough to taste anything, though his heart felt a little bit lighter than before. It was just as difficult to be in this home as it was to be in his own, with the smell of incense in the air reminding him of all the times Fai dragged him over to look at Yuuko's kimono and how Yuuko always startled them by popping through the windows even when the house had become completely hers. It was fine to move forward and rebuild the future, but the present still hurt as much as ever, and the emptiness of being there without the person he loved was as painful to him as anything he'd ever suffered. Even if there was meaning, even if there was purpose, there would never be a way to restore completely what had been taken from him, but only a slow wait until he, too, would no longer have to suffer.

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