(Disclaimer: I don't own Nabari no Ou.)

Chapter 1 - Raimei: Like I'll Never Be The Same

Raimei has a headache the day they ascend the mountains leading up to the Shimizu clan compound, a bright blue day with no clouds and lots of sunshine that would be beautiful if not for the incessant pounding that rocks her temples.

Well, it's still pretty even with that.

The crispness of the early spring air has prompted Raikou and Gau to break out their matching coats again, something she wouldn't have noticed except for the fact that they've been doing just that every day for a week now, and she knows they have other jackets. Their simplicity - black for Gau, white for Raikou, with the same ornate clasps - suggests that Gau picked them out, and for a moment, looking at the two of them, she imagines them both in a store, wandering the aisles together, whispering in confidential, excited voices as they try on and try on again, finally deciding on something that announces their existence as a set, a pair, a duo.

It's no wonder she can be with them and still feel alone. She refuses to dwell on the feeling, thinking that with enough time and focus, it will wash away like (most) of the pain from her family's death did, like (most) of the raw, jagged hole Raikou left in her heart did.

Raikou's boots press down the dead leaves and branches and other detritus of a long, hard winter for them as he leads the way. They're not going the direct route, which would only lead them to the front of a burnt-out skeleton that used to be their home, but instead going around the back, to where Raikou and Gau's makeshift camp had been set up when they were hiding from the Kairoshuu. Nobody's speaking, just enjoying the fresh air and sunshine and the overwhelming feeling of hope and almost adventure that pervades everything around them, turning the gray, budding trees beautiful.

And still, with all of this beauty around her, Raimei's head pounds, pounds, pounds, and the lump in her throat won't go away.

Coming out of the trees, the tent is still in the clearing where they left it. Gau busies himself taking stock of everything they left behind, making sure it's still there and untouched, while Raimei stands near Raikou and realizes she has nothing to say to him.

He looks over at her, once, oddly pensive, and she knows he's watching her and that he knows that something is different about her, but it's been a few years and though they'll always be brother and sister, she's changed enough that his concern unsettles and agitates her, and she looks away with an almost irritated air.

She wonders if she could tell him, tell anyone, even if she knew what was wrong.

The Shimizu clan compound - abandoned, burned, and dilapidated - isn't such a sad sight for her anymore. She doesn't know when that happened.

Maybe it's because nothing can match the memory of the day she lead Fuuma-nin back to their home to help bury the bodies of their clan members; as the last proper Shimizu, it had been her duty to give everyone a proper burial, but she was also a little girl, and had needed the help. At the time, Kotaro Fuuma had been all too gracious to help "their village's kin," but it was Saraba that had gone with her and lead the party.

It was also Saraba who had put her arms around Raimei when she's found her mother and father - or what she assumed to be them, their faces half-melted from the heat of the burning building, and Raimei had screamed and screamed until it was suddenly muffled by Saraba's robes as the woman pulled her closer, the first embrace they'd ever shared.

That day had solidified Raimei's eternal hatred of Raikou, and marked the moment she'd made a private vow on Kurogamon that she would fulfill her duty and kill him - for the clan's sake, and for hers.

And here she is with him, picking through the remains of their home to see everything they'll need to rebuild and recreate together. Life is funny like that.

Their shared memories are as good as any blueprint and they manage to figure out what's missing, either destroyed by fire or exposure to the elements. Doors that have been warped and sealed shut in their frames from heat, building eaves that have crumbled to black dust - none of it bothers her.

The garden their father had started and their family had tended for him when he'd gotten too ill to do it himself lies barren and seems to ask a question: Can anything ever grow and flourish here again, or is the ground too salted by blood and bitterness? Raimei knows she will not give up without trying.

Instead of hurting her, the sight of it all tugs on the hole in her heart, like hooks on wires have been attached to the edges and are pulling it open, wider with every old memory she and Raikou unearth: training in the practice hall, Mother's study, talking lightly about the summer Father grew sunflowers that were taller than five year-old Raimei. What flows out of the hole isn't pain, but numbness, until she's so numb it aches and she can't even feel her headache anymore for the weight of her entire clan's bodies pressing on her mind.

The palms of the white rubber gloves Gau gave them before they entered (insistent like a grade-school teacher, and Raikou just accepted them with a small, amused, "oh, Gau" smile and snapped them on almost mockingly in front of him) are solid black with soot, and beneath those gloves Raimei's own hands feel dirty and stained with an unkept promise.

"It would take an insane amount of work to make it livable again," Gau says as they all stand outside again, enjoying the clean air for a moment after the heavy, stagnant air of the ruins. He has his black book out again, pen poised over a new page as if he knows the answer before he's even asked the question, and is prepared to take Raikou's first marching orders. It's another reminder that they have a solid routine between them; they both know the score and where they stand, and they're happy with their roles and with each other. Otherwise, Gau wouldn't be so devoted to Raikou's cause and Raikou wouldn't punish an offense against Gau twice as hard as he'd punish anything else. "Is it worth it?"

"Yes," Raimei and Raikou answer in the same breath, without faltering and with all the resolution in the world, and in that moment, they all think that will be enough.

She has no reason to cry. In the end, she got almost everything she could want - reconciliation with her brother, her clan's honor, her friends' survival and her enemies' deaths, Miharu's smile, and now a new dream for the future. She'd fought and struggled for all of it; she'd earned it. She was proud of herself. She shouldn't cry.

She shouldn't be crying at the edge of the woods, alone and away from the tent so her brother and their friend couldn't hear her. Not while thinking of Kouichi and the way he'd turned around, smiled, and waved at her one last time before he disappeared, like he was reminding her to smile when it was all over. He would want her to smile now more than ever, she reminds herself furiously.

So why can't she help herself?

Because, deep down, she still wants him here. She wants him with the group, planning to rebuild the compound together, to become a part of her family and share all of the duties and responsibilities of watching over the Nabari world. She wants what her brother and Gau have - that easy, devoted, solid partnership – with Kouichi. She wants to share all the parts of her life with him - going to school with Miharu and Thobari-sensei, sparring with her brother, mixing people up, festivals and breakfasts and everything that could possibly be done together. She wants to do it all with him.

But he's gone, and has left nothing behind but a new hole in her chest and shameful, hot tears that she tries to muffle into the collar of her jacket.

He'd wanted to die more than he'd wanted to be with her, wanted to be with everyone, and that hurts.

"Raimei-san?" Gau's voice is soft and cautious in the night air, falling on her ears like timid footsteps.

Raimei rubs at her face without trying to make it obvious that she's doing so, but, being Raimei, her attempt at subtlety falls short. She won't - can't - turn around to face him.

Neither is sure what the protocol for walking in on your best friend's sister crying is, so Gau says, "It's almost time for dinner, aren't you going to come back -"

And his hand grabs the back of her arm, and Raimei twists suddenly and pulls away from him with all the inertia of a broken heart on her side.

"I'm fine!" she snaps, before she can realize that's not what he was asking at all.

"I...didn't say you weren't. I just came to get you for dinner. It's too cold out here, come back inside."

They stand there for a moment, awkwardly, until Gau does something unexpected: he leans over and puts his hands on her shoulders, squeezing once gently, like he understands not to ask her what's wrong.

"I made oyakodon. I'd really enjoy eating it with you, Raimei-san." He smiles at her, small and kind, and just like that, Raimei feels the vice grip of sadness lessen its pressure on her, just a little.

Gau releases her and begins to walk back to the tent without another word, making his way through the darkness. Before she loses sight of his back, Raimei follows him.

If the only choice she has is to keep moving forward, doing so with friends can't possibly be so bad. Even her headache has quieted, as if her body agrees.