Edit: Inspired by MoonlitInuko's fanfic, Souls Of The Cursed Ones. Actually, I didn't even realize the similarities until the next day, when she read it and asked me... but credit goes to her, all the same. Spiral: Suiri no Kizuna, characters and story alike, are not mine. (Have at me. I don't like this anymore.)
Heartbeats.
They were lying in a pool of their own blood. There was so much of it... oh god, oh, there was so much of it that she could smell it in the air -- a very coppery, distinctive scent that made her swallow sourly, tasting it on the back of her tongue. It collected around them, sticking to their bodies, coating their faces.Ryoko was barely aware that Kousuke had wrapped both of his long arms around her shoulders, drawing her closer to himself. She lay half-on, half-off his chest, head resting on his damp sweater—soaked with a thin layer crimson, dark blood—listening to his slow, ragged breathing.
Up, down... up, down... up, down... up, down... up, down... up, down…
We're dying, we're all dying. The thought flittered though her semi-conscious mind the same time Kousuke said it, his parted lips barely moving.
"We're all dying..." His breath whistled as he spoke, wheezing. It rattled up his throat.
"No, we're not."
Ryoko wasn't a fool. She saw what the explosives had done -- oh, god, she could still smell the gunpowder too. She saw the bullet wounds, the gaping holes in the flesh, the shrapnel ripping through tissue and bone. She saw the broken limbs, twisted at the joints; the vivid scarlet highlighted in the gloom.
But it was the last shred of hope she had -- a delusion that everything would be alright. It wouldn't. But... but... though it flickered with uncertainty, it still shone. Although she fought to breathe, her voice was firm. "We're going to get up and live to see another day."
He snorted, although it was more like a painful release of air. "... and pigs might fly."
The girl's brain didn't seem to comprehend the opposition, and all she could manage was a soft, "... stupid."
Up, down... up, down... up, down... up, down... up, down... up, down...
They had all been so stupid, she thought. So, so stupid -- incredibly so. They had walked straight into the trap that the Hunters had set for them, and look now -- they were paying for it with their lives. Her comrades were dying around her, in forgotten blown-out basement littered with rubble and the remains of unidentifiable bodies.
"Hey, Rio..." the boy underneath her called out to the little girl not ten feet away, lying on her side. Both her legs and an arm were mangled, torn to shreds; utterly useless: the appendages were nearly torn from her petite frame, the tendons... oh, god, oh...
"... what?" The answer didn't have its usual sass; not the usual pep. It was weak and frail: her voice seemed on the verge of breaking into a thousand pieces, like glass shattering and then falling away.
"How're 'ya doin?" There was not much concern in his inquiry, but she was grateful all the same. As long as they were talking, it meant that they were alive.
With resentment, she admitted in a defeated tone, "... not to good. Fading fast."
A pause as the redhead let that register in his slowed thinking, the blood and oxygen being stolen from his brain. Then, "Rutherford?"
"I think he left us... " there was a catch in Rio's voice, and she swallowed audibly, choking on the words. "... a couple of minutes ago." She bit her lip, tasting blood. An image flashed back to her—Eyes, his white hair strewn out of the floor, looking wraith-like... the dark purple bruises coating his arms, of which were twisted in angles no one could straighten...
In a last venture, he asked one more time, a hopeful note hidden in his question. "What about... little Narumi... and the girl?"
Oh, god, not them. She had seen it happen. She had seen their bodies hit first by the explosion, the blood, the way their arms twisted with the heat and the force (the sudden jerk of life), the billowing flash of fire licking away at a scream that was lost on the roar. She had seen their faces—shocked and pale, halfway between confusion and understanding -- marred with disbelief before the combustion gases consumed whatever flesh they had left.
The odour of burning skin sickened her, burning the back of her throat. Hiyono and Ayumu—they never deserved the Blade Children's fate. They shouldn't have even been here... it just wasn't fair. There was a stinging in her eyes, but she did not permit herself to cry, gritting her teeth in concentration as she fumbled with her tongue.
"They were killed... instantly..." Ryoko listened with one ear, hearing the sentence dribble away back into the silence of shifting debris and the cackling pop of the fire. The orange-hued flames danced on the reflecting surfaces of crimson around them.
Up, down... up, down... up, down... up... down... up... down... up... down...
"... Rio?" He started again, but she cut him off, the remnants of her voice rising in irritation and a terrible understanding.
"Kousuke... shut up," she choked out; a screaming whisper, sounding like an echo of her past self, with her bossy, demanding façade. "Let me sleep already..." Her half-lidded wolf-gray eyes fluttered shut, not ever to open again.
"Yeah..." The redhead sighed, something that made his chest contract horribly, starting the other Blade Child. "You've been a real good girl... you've done just great... go to sleep now..." He mumbled more to himself than the prone figure on the floor.
No tears would be shed today. There would be no cries of sorrow as their friends left them, no days to mourn their passing. They would have to silently accept it, as they had always did. But this time, there would be no tomorrow; there would be no hope the next dawn.
No matter how long they had prolonged it, the Blade Children were, truly, out of time. In the end, they couldn't deny their fate that had been spelled out for them long before they were born. Their ending was inevitable and the ultimate verdict of their lives—and it could not be put off any longer.
Up... down... up... down... up... down... up... down... up... down... up... down...
Ryoko bumped her head gently against his collarbone. Through her fading thoughts, blurred by death, she whished she could have seen the grass and sky before she died. Furrowing her brow in concentration, she tried to remember the fluffy clouds and endless canvas of sky, the fresh breeze upon her face. But they slipped through her fingers like water, slippery and ever elusive.
What a dismal place... she thought, staring blankly at the once lead-colored walls, which were now painted and spattered with blood, looking oddly like an abstract colouring that would be found in an art museum, hanging gaudily in a golden frame.
She was barely aware that everything was becoming so surreal—the sluggish beat of her own slowing heart; the coolness of the air surrounding her, temperature dropping despite the heat; the pain that seemed to vanish from her bullet-shot and broken limbs—
There was a creeping numbness that descended over them in a wave, engulfing them in dreamlike warmth and sense of false security. The last of the living—feeling—left this bodies. It was close, they knew. It was coming.
Death.
It wasn't how they had all secretly imagined it—a ferocious black beast with clawed hands that mercilessly ripped their souls away, dragging them down with chains unto the underworld, face hidden beneath the shade of a cloak! A horror that left them shaking at night, fingers clenched numb into sheets, hiding beneath closed lids. No, instead, Death was a playful little thing. Something that slowly creped into her senses, making the colours blend and blur in her limited vision; leaving behind the mind-wracking pain and taking away their frozen limbs.
Up... down... up... down... up... down... up... down... up... down... up... down...
Kousuke's arm's tightened as he drew her nearer. Not that she minded in the least, or was to gone to care. "Ryoko?" A husky susurration was spoken into her hair, and he inhaled the smell of her pepperminty shampoo.
"What... is it?"
It took an incredible amount of brainpower just how to remember to use her mouth; her tongue to form the sounds, and the sentence left her winded, gasping for air.
His head dipped lower, and brushed against her ear, his breath puffing onto her cheek. A unusual tingling ran all the way up her spine, and the girl gave a long shudder. "I love you," he whispered, closing his eyes.
He loves me. He loves me... the words seemed to reverberate in her ears; a loud humming throb. "Kousuke... ?"
"What?" He asked sleepily, his tone laced with drowsiness; light and airy. He had accepted it. He was going to die, with his fallen comrades around him, with the one he loved in his arms. Life had always been a game to him, and he had played it with all the skill and cleverness he had. But the outcome had already been decided, and no matter how he cheated; lied; bargained and gambled—he was going to die.
Up... down... up... down... up... down... up... down... up... down... down... down...
And then, his chest wasn't moving anymore. The heartbeats had slowed to a painstakingly slow pace, then stopped altogether.
Ryoko turned her head ever so slightly, to stare up into his face. It was pale, the only colouring being the flecks of blood staining his cheeks. Those dumb orange-tinted glasses he always wore were broken; their lenses cracked and shattered, like his body. Those brilliant, forest green eyes, the ones she longed to stare into for hours and hours—closed.
Forever.
There was the faintest of smiles gracing his face. Not the arrogant smirk he had adopted in later years, but the true, genuine smile he had when he was a child... innocent and blissful. Ignorant, if she wanted to go that far.
He almost looked as if he was sleeping. Using the last of her strength, Ryoko pulled herself upward, muscles straining, until her face was buried into his neck. He smelled like the coppery tang of blood, the muskiness of aftershave, and clean clothes that blended together in a scent that was completely and utterly Kousuke. The last burst of effort exhausted her completely, and she collapsed there.
"Oh, Kousuke..." she sighed, her lips brushing against his cooling skin, the warmth fading bit by bit. "I love you too..." With one last shudder, her entire body trembled for a split second, then stilled. Through the haze of blackness, Ryoko could hear his voice, calling out to her...
Everything's going to be alright, Ryoko. I love you, remember?
She could see his shimmering image in the mind, extending a hand for her; waiting, smiling, laughing... for her...
You've been a real good girl. Just sleep now... just sleep...
Ryoko saw no reason not to comply.