A/N:

Happy Devil's Day! I decided to write a few devilish oneshots for the occasion. Yay!

Disclaimer: Kyo isn't mine. Yet! And neither is anyone else.

Warnings: Language and a tad OOC.

Day of the Dead

Kyo coughed as he trudged down the path to the cemetery. In his left hand he held a bunch of daisies he picked himself, the other a photo. It snow fell down into his hair as he walked closer to a certain grave he wanted to visit. It had been 11 years since his mother had died; today happened to be the anniversary.

He sighed as he sat on the ground before the grave. He placed the flowers on top, along with a photo of her, one of the only ones he kept. Kyo coughed again; it was quite cold.

"Why?"

Kyo's voice echoed around the empty cemetery. He balled his hands into fists and tried to reminisce the good times. Unfortunately for him, there weren't many good times that he could remember which included his dear Mother.

"Coincidentally," He continued, "Someone else happened to die on this day as well, Mum. Someone close to me,"

He stood up and walked around the corner to Kyoko's grave. He had saved a daisy for her too. Kyo stared at her grave as a tear slipped down his face. He bit his bottom lip to help from crying out. This day had cursed him, it seemed.

"If I'm correct," He told Kyoko, "Someone dear to me should die today,"

Then it hit him. He stood, bid Kyoko and his mother a nice day and ran. What if she was already dead? Kyo ran as fast as his skinny legs would allow him. He slipped in the snow but stood up fast and continued along to path to Shigure's house.

He gasped in for breath and he took his shoes off and flung open the door.

"Tohru!" He yelled, searching the house. She wasn't in the kitchen. Then again, no one seemed to be in the house. He ran up the stairs to her bedroom and opened the door too. His heart rate zoomed as he noticed that her bed was messy and unmade and… blood stained?

"Tohru!" He cried out again, falling on his knees and reaching for the bed. It was too late. There in the bed she lay, the blood drenched sheets wrapped around her legs. It was too late.

She even left the knife for him.

A/N:

Well, that was angsty.

First proper angst story I have EVER written.

Gasp!