(no subject)
Title: All Over
Fandom: Tsubasa
Wordcount: 994
Warnings: Character death and spoilers like woah.
A/N: Due to gratuitous use of Hear You Me by Jimmy Eat World (Wow, chichiris_chica, our minds work in different ways...) and that picture linked above, I was inspired to write...this.
His death was anticlimatic after the great struggle in the throne room. A staggering step, a breath too sharply taken in, and the thud of his small frame hitting the floor. And silence.
Kurogane rushed over, refusing to believe anything could end so quietly. That the action meant to save his life had killed him. That in growing, changing, Fai had ensured his own death. That nothing mattered in the long run, because destiny caught up one way or another.
It made him sick.
He had bound himself to this life to save it, ensured his continued absence from his home country to save one infuriating man. It was not right that he should be so powerless to stop it. He could always do something. He could always fight. So why was Fai dead? There was no reason, no reason at all.
No reason at all.
There was a tightness in his throat and chest that he recognized as grief, something he had forgotten. Grief was his family in Suwa, not a crumpled mage in a frozen world. Grief was something bloody and wild, not cold and silent. Never so silent. It was not real.
He gathered Fai into his arms, wincing at the limp sprawl of the body as it did absolutely nothing. It was just as cold as this world, the last warmth gone as if it had never existed.
Shaoran joined him a few moments later, not saying anything, simply understanding. He knew death, though not as well as Kurogane knew it. Kurogane could feel it, and also hear it, also see it, also smell it and taste it. It tasted bitter and so sharp it could cut. It tasted of metal and he suspected it also now tasted of Fai. Certainly it smelled of Fai.
The boy didn’t say anything, and Kurogane wondered if the other boy had been so perceptive, or if they really weren’t the same person anymore. It didn’t matter at this point. If in the end they were two separate beings, this boy was alone.
And the mage was dead.
Kurogane had never clung to unrealistic hopes before. He had never denied a truth because it hurt anyone too much, including himself. But it was difficult to let go of Fai, even when Fai himself had let go in the descent to the floor.
Shaoran stroked Mokona, who looked to be grieving as much as any of them. Kurogane didn’t doubt it. He was just as calm about the witch suddenly appearing in the middle of the frozen room.
“I won’t grant you that wish,” she said. “I cannot restore life. No magic can do that.”
Kurogane expelled a breath he didn’t recall holding in. “I never asked you to,” he replied quietly.
“You wanted me to, though.”
He looked down at Fai’s body, and then around at each person he had come to accept, trust, and even love in a strange way. It was clear that, if he asked, all present would help to pay the price. Even, perhaps, the witch herself. In subtext, she was giving him this option. There would be no life, but Fai might be restored in spirit.
No. He knew enough of prices and interference. No more.
“I didn’t want him to die,” he said. “He did anyway. It’s not my place to change that.” He had wanted to. He still wanted it with all of his being. But wanting wouldn’t change anything. Death was death, and no will could withstand it.
The witch nodded. “I will exempt you from the rest of Fai’s clothing price,” she said, and for a moment Kurogane wanted to lash out at her for being so callous. He forced himself calm againj, and remembered what he did know of prices. A fair price was not to be toyed with. This was Yuuko’s way of helping, the only way she could.
The picture faded and disappeared, and all was silent. Kurogane looked once more at the body in his arms, feeling unwilling to relinquish it.
Mokona, to his not-such-amazement, understood and began the process of world change. The change itself was both vivid and blurry, unreal because he was alone and starkly there because everything was too much to feel. He was more relieved than usual to feel his feet touch ground. He had always been secretly afraid that one day they wouldn’t, and this time he’d been afraid of losing what of Fai he still held.
Explanations were made to the poor couple whose home they had accidentally invaded, and a bed was found for the “ill one.” Kurogane had almost protested, but Shaoran explained later that death was extremely taboo in some places and it was best to take no chances.
Laying Fai on the borrowed bed almost was a closure. Right where he had been when he’d almost died the first time. The borrowed time was up.
Kurogane was not horrified this time to find wetness under his eyes.
“Well, goodbye,” he said. It was awkward, talking when he knew there would be no answer. “And thank you.”
He didn’t want to leave just yet. He didn’t want to try to relearn what life was like without Fai to change it for him every minute.
“Kuro-rin…you didn’t think you’d be rid of me that easily, did you?” asked Fai’s voice. And in desperate hope, Kurogane turned around.
Fai’s eyes were open.
“I told you…I don’t die easily,” the mage continued, with an attempted smile.
Kurogane’s mind was in disarray. He’d been adjusting to grief. He’d been adjusting to different kinds of death, only to find that he had been right.
It was what he hadn’t dared to hope for, and had hoped for just the same…
So he said nothing, and silently, because silence wasn’t death after all, embraced the man he had thought was lost. And he thought that if death was anticlimatic, life was the most perfect ending of all.
--
By the way, the full title is "And When You Think It's All Over...It's Not Over".--
Fandom: Tsubasa
Wordcount: 994
Warnings: Character death and spoilers like woah.
A/N: Due to gratuitous use of Hear You Me by Jimmy Eat World (Wow, chichiris_chica, our minds work in different ways...) and that picture linked above, I was inspired to write...this.
His death was anticlimatic after the great struggle in the throne room. A staggering step, a breath too sharply taken in, and the thud of his small frame hitting the floor. And silence.
Kurogane rushed over, refusing to believe anything could end so quietly. That the action meant to save his life had killed him. That in growing, changing, Fai had ensured his own death. That nothing mattered in the long run, because destiny caught up one way or another.
It made him sick.
He had bound himself to this life to save it, ensured his continued absence from his home country to save one infuriating man. It was not right that he should be so powerless to stop it. He could always do something. He could always fight. So why was Fai dead? There was no reason, no reason at all.
No reason at all.
There was a tightness in his throat and chest that he recognized as grief, something he had forgotten. Grief was his family in Suwa, not a crumpled mage in a frozen world. Grief was something bloody and wild, not cold and silent. Never so silent. It was not real.
He gathered Fai into his arms, wincing at the limp sprawl of the body as it did absolutely nothing. It was just as cold as this world, the last warmth gone as if it had never existed.
Shaoran joined him a few moments later, not saying anything, simply understanding. He knew death, though not as well as Kurogane knew it. Kurogane could feel it, and also hear it, also see it, also smell it and taste it. It tasted bitter and so sharp it could cut. It tasted of metal and he suspected it also now tasted of Fai. Certainly it smelled of Fai.
The boy didn’t say anything, and Kurogane wondered if the other boy had been so perceptive, or if they really weren’t the same person anymore. It didn’t matter at this point. If in the end they were two separate beings, this boy was alone.
And the mage was dead.
Kurogane had never clung to unrealistic hopes before. He had never denied a truth because it hurt anyone too much, including himself. But it was difficult to let go of Fai, even when Fai himself had let go in the descent to the floor.
Shaoran stroked Mokona, who looked to be grieving as much as any of them. Kurogane didn’t doubt it. He was just as calm about the witch suddenly appearing in the middle of the frozen room.
“I won’t grant you that wish,” she said. “I cannot restore life. No magic can do that.”
Kurogane expelled a breath he didn’t recall holding in. “I never asked you to,” he replied quietly.
“You wanted me to, though.”
He looked down at Fai’s body, and then around at each person he had come to accept, trust, and even love in a strange way. It was clear that, if he asked, all present would help to pay the price. Even, perhaps, the witch herself. In subtext, she was giving him this option. There would be no life, but Fai might be restored in spirit.
No. He knew enough of prices and interference. No more.
“I didn’t want him to die,” he said. “He did anyway. It’s not my place to change that.” He had wanted to. He still wanted it with all of his being. But wanting wouldn’t change anything. Death was death, and no will could withstand it.
The witch nodded. “I will exempt you from the rest of Fai’s clothing price,” she said, and for a moment Kurogane wanted to lash out at her for being so callous. He forced himself calm againj, and remembered what he did know of prices. A fair price was not to be toyed with. This was Yuuko’s way of helping, the only way she could.
The picture faded and disappeared, and all was silent. Kurogane looked once more at the body in his arms, feeling unwilling to relinquish it.
Mokona, to his not-such-amazement, understood and began the process of world change. The change itself was both vivid and blurry, unreal because he was alone and starkly there because everything was too much to feel. He was more relieved than usual to feel his feet touch ground. He had always been secretly afraid that one day they wouldn’t, and this time he’d been afraid of losing what of Fai he still held.
Explanations were made to the poor couple whose home they had accidentally invaded, and a bed was found for the “ill one.” Kurogane had almost protested, but Shaoran explained later that death was extremely taboo in some places and it was best to take no chances.
Laying Fai on the borrowed bed almost was a closure. Right where he had been when he’d almost died the first time. The borrowed time was up.
Kurogane was not horrified this time to find wetness under his eyes.
“Well, goodbye,” he said. It was awkward, talking when he knew there would be no answer. “And thank you.”
He didn’t want to leave just yet. He didn’t want to try to relearn what life was like without Fai to change it for him every minute.
“Kuro-rin…you didn’t think you’d be rid of me that easily, did you?” asked Fai’s voice. And in desperate hope, Kurogane turned around.
Fai’s eyes were open.
“I told you…I don’t die easily,” the mage continued, with an attempted smile.
Kurogane’s mind was in disarray. He’d been adjusting to grief. He’d been adjusting to different kinds of death, only to find that he had been right.
It was what he hadn’t dared to hope for, and had hoped for just the same…
So he said nothing, and silently, because silence wasn’t death after all, embraced the man he had thought was lost. And he thought that if death was anticlimatic, life was the most perfect ending of all.
--
By the way, the full title is "And When You Think It's All Over...It's Not Over".--