Disclaimer I do NOT own Ouran High School Host Club or its characters/places/etc., Bisco Hatori does.

Author's Note:

FIRST OFF: It has come to my attention that this story is on a list of those to disappear... If it does, I will edit some things so that it is able to be brought back. Just PM me! Also: Thank you Gamerj1988, Opinr, Curse Soul and everyone else that has stuck with this trilogy!

I'm not going to lie, I have had much trouble with this last installment. It feels tedious and a bit... boring. ::cries in a corner:: But, it's my attempt at wrapping up the story. There will also be a lemon or two(my first not-inebriatedly written ones!), which, I will either edit out (add the full version at the end of story as an EXTRA) or warn about prior to the body of the chapter in bold, so that you may skip.

I apologize in advance if there are any mistakes with wordings, spelling, grammar and punctuations or if the flow and plot are unsatisfactory! I'm still very extremely new at this writing thing. :)
Please, feel free to read and review! Constructive criticism is incredibly welcomed, I'm all for comments that will help me improve! (Please refrain from being blatantly rude...I'm a sensitive soul)

Chapter 1:

Silence had reigned over the shuffled clacks of their shoes as both elder and young Nekozawa showed the hosts from the dank, death-filled ritual room, through the exquisite marbled halls; glittering cream walls, hand-crafted chandeliers and statuettes nothing but a mere blur, while they trudged on with shaken uncertainty.

All they had ever known had been completely destroyed, debunked in but an instant of entering that fated room. Having seen the cold, lifeless form of the now-sleeping brunette and witnessing the gruesome flamed death of her captor had done something to them all; ignorant innocence of their entire world view had been lost, swept away by the inherent fear of the unknown that had indutibly taken it's place.

Parting words were replaced with nods as the expansive foyer was passed and the grand entryway opened to them. Umehito's azure eyes followed, with loss and yearning, the peaceful girl laying securely in the arms of her spectacled senpai while they piled into the waiting vehicles. A deep sigh escaped him and he squeezed tight his lids, not wanting to see the car she was in take her away as he let her go for the second time in his life.

Aged granite orbs darkened as Shinsetsuna observed his grandson, standing in the doorway, full of grief, while his wrinkled body swelled with mixed emotions. This day his young successor had given ultimate punishment for treason against the coven, successfully completed a ritual that even their ancestors had failed and sacrificed what looked like a strong young love, for her happiness... But he was also standing in the doorway, without the shield of robes nor wig, eyes closed and face towards the lowering sun. Solemn, forefront the peaceful beauty surrounding him in vibrant greens and golden light.

"Umehito, I wonder..." In attempt at clarification, he cleared his throat and draped a withering hand upon the slumped shoulder of the boy. "Was that the girl Kirimi told me about?"

A deep breath brought Umehito's head down, biting his lips he looked to the ground as he nodded to his Grandfather, turning to re-enter the home.

"I'm sorry that you must endure this, but," he moved to follow the boy, closing the door softly behind him, "you were successful and she is alive."

"You are quite right, Grandfather."

~O~O~

"Sir."

In his arms the girl breathed evenly, her brown eyes fluttered gently behind her lids and he couldn't help but feel overwhelmed with her whole disappearance and what her willowy body had been succumbed to. Cheeks now pink with the flush of sleep had been pallid upon a torn body. Her skin, now flawless, had been ripped apart. Death had claimed her, though now she lay reanimated.

"Yes, Takumashii? Call off the search, I've found what I was looking for." Ending the short call, he couldn't help but notice his own haunted tone. Relieved as he was, no amount of thinking could have done anything to curb the conflicting emotions that warred inside of him.

The utter despair that had overcome his cool features had been washed in disbelief once she was placed in his arms, and now all he could do was stare. This girl had been to hell and back, all the while he and the other hosts fought over her affections, making all the wrong decisions when concerning her. Nekozawa Umehito had been there for her in her darkest times, brought her back into the light, and then for her own sake, delivered her into the arms of the man who was seeking to wreck the boy's family in order to devise a way to steal this unconscious girl back, along with her affections.

'Selfless' could not begin to describe the mystical teen that the youngest Ohtori had obviously underestimated, and it left him wavering between his deepest respects and scoffing at the self-condemning notions.

After working so diligently to win the girl's heart, delivering her from death itself, he ultimately just gave up. Whether or not it was for Haruhi's own good, he had taken himself from her mind and given them all a fresh start... If what Nekozawa had said was true. Seeing as he just witnessed things inexplicable to modern science, he had no reason not to trust the arcane teen.

Did he not understand the weight of his actions? A thought the shadow king deliberated as a graceful hand absently stroked the shining chestnut hair of a sleeping Haruhi, laying against his chest, pulling her closer while he turned to look out of the tinted glass at the world passing by, with a new found reverence towards the vitality surrounding him. Haruhi had just become more precious to him than he could have ever imagined, a gift from the most unlikely of people.

~O~O~

"What... what just happened?" Golden amber eyes darted blindly at the blank faces surrounding him. "She was dead... She. Was. Dead..." Hollow sobbing whispers repeated in loop amongst the quiet as his brother squeezed his hand, both to give and receive comfort, as the stinging increased, burning its threats of oncoming tears.

Images of spontaneous combustion, the visible bone and muscle of a limp, ashen Haruhi played in their minds in torturous rehash. The blood, the death, the stench. Things that could not be unseen, unfelt, unheard. Hikaru's stomach clenched around the frigid knot as he spoke past the bile rising in his hoarse throat. His head was pounding, hazy yet vivid, while his twin was in a similar, yet more reclusive state.

Could this have been avoided if we were just more attentive? If she was with one of us, maybe she would have been safe. She would have never had to ... deal... with that. She wouldn't have... God... Haruhi... Kaoru's guilt lead him in the run-around of what ifs, constricting his lungs and heart. Pain like starp stabs and suffocation stole over his grieving form, as the nausea burned hot in his gut.

Across from the distraught twins, Hani and Mori sat, faces expressionless as the tan upholstery stuck to their skins, angered at their own inaction. There she had been the whole time being tortured as they ate cake. The small blonde patted blindly at seat to the side of him, feeling the comforting soft fur of the plush bunny and absently pulling the toy to his chest.

To the front of the car door in a side seat, the blonde host king focused his amethyst orbs the the darkening sky, thankful for the life that was restored to the one person who truly deserved it.

~O~O~

Against the dusk, unlit streetlights, the two glossy, chrome and black vehicles came to a stop in the alley in front of the two story peach apartment complex. Only three left the vehicles as the others rode away into the ending day to sort themselves out before the next day of exams.

"Mon ami, didn't Haruhi have you give back the extra key?" Whispering the question softly, the violet-eye blonde cocked his flaxen brow to the cool-type, earning a half-hearted smirk from the bespectacled teen.

"I had a copy made." Easing up the narrow metal stairs and trying not to make too much noise was proving to be a bit difficult. "And she said, 'leave it,' not 'leave them.' So I only left her one of the keys... It pays to be able to keep tabs on your friends."

Biting his princely lip, he stalled, staring wide-eyed at the back of his friend, walking the darkened balcony path toward the door, in stunned amusement.

"...and you called me the stalker."

~O~O~

"Ohtori Kyoya, Hitachiin Hikaru and Kaoru, Morinozuka Takashi, Haninozuka Mitsukuni, Suoh Tamaki: Those are the names of those whom were present, Grandfather." Hollowly the blonde aristocrat replied as he sat in the chair across his elder's own, staring into his hands with blind eyes and defeatist contorted features.

The dark wood of the furnishings contrasted harshly against his distraught form; the gold of his hair and the ivory of his skin surrounded by the murky tint only seemed to intensify the lost aura the boy was projecting. Shinsetsuna placed his hands on the flat stormy surface of the granite, absorbing the air the boy gave off, though his mind was racing through the vast wealth of information he retained, searching for why those surnames sounded so familiar.

Of course, they were prominent within the world of business, but that wasn't what struck him. His thick grey brows furrowed transiently as he shook it off for the moment, to direct his attentions to his future successor. The distraught teen that had just turned his entire life upside down with the opening of a door.

"Thank you. But, I'm afraid we have far more to discuss than just names, Umehito." Sighing, he allowed his eyes to wander to the dark photograph and back to the uncowled boy sitting unknowingly within the light, he let a bitter smile curl his thin lips and wrinkled face. "You're free of the curse." He let the statement hang softly in the thick air between them, knowing for once that that news did not bring with it the happiness it would have but a week ago.

The words resounded within his ears with absolutely no meaning as he closed his azure crystal eyes with a deep inhale, remembering the face of the girl he knew would never remember him the way he'd remember her. That very face that he would have to avoid as not to inadvertantly bring back the terror caused because of his damned curse. Clearing the lump in his throat, he straightened in the ornately carved wooden chair to look into the slate eyes of his grandfather.

"I also murdered my cousin." No emotions were in the statement and he mentally challenged his grandfather to say anything against him. Having seen the disturbing scene for himself, the old man would know that that was no mere sacrifice. Isourou had butchered her, laughing when they entered. Had enjoyed slicing her into bits, and as far as Umehito was concerned, being sent to the trials eternally would never be enough, even if he himself had chosen for the older man to relive Haruhi's torture for himself perpetually. Nothing could do justice to the innocence she had lost that day, whether she would remember or not, everyone else had witnessed the aftermath and none could ever work to get rid of that sight.

"You pushed punishment as future Dai Saishii. It was a necessary action, one that I, myself, would have possibly carried out... Though, we are responsible for informing his parents." His silver eyes closed as he steepled greying gnarled fingers, letting out a short breath. He had love for all his family, especially his grand children, no matter what they would do, but he couldn't let the cruelty, which Isourou openly exhibited, pass his mind. Like a shot to his soul, the punishment that he knew would have to befall the older boy for such malice did nothing to erase the sweet little boy with messy brown hair and innocent, inquisitive, wide quicksilver eyes from his mind. How did he end up so twisted?

Shaking his peppered head he opened his misty eyes, swallowing a small sob that wanted to worm out. "They return to Japan in a couple of weeks, we will tell them then."

"Yes, Grandfather."

~O~O~

Delivered into darkness, a chanting arose from all around, as sights began to appear in a slow roll. Brilliant green light shot from sharp lines on the cold stone floor as scraps of material lay in a circle within the circle of hands flowing skyward and faces blanked with concentration as they drew from their rhythmic powers deep within to breathe the swirling, flickering, inky misted life into the lain fabric.

Ribbons of flames blew through the murky whirl, in spectacular glory, as energy for the transfer, readying as it dipped lower. A gasp breaks the concentration and the figure looks on as (TAMAKI-SENPAI?!) runs, the life, spirits intended for those cloth pieces, absorb into his darting form.

Sounds muffle as the atmosphere collapses into dissolving colors, brightening in blurs of reds, whites and pink. Too bright, it stings, as if bending to this feeling the lights dim in the room as forms stand around, familiar though not. Words stream through this static environment, watery and robotic from the hazy scene.

"...

he will either whither into a shell of his former self, or he will die." (... I don't...under-)

Harsh buzzing turned into a full roar, cracking at the surface like glass, murky fog billowing from the seam as the fragile atmosphere plunged into the distance.

"I want to take his place." (That almost sounds like me...)

Overwhelming terror in the form of silver mist swirled, crackling in harsh flashes. An angry cyclonic storm, abating in swift part as strange tinkling laughter brought with it warmth in rushing waves and streaks of rising sun overcoming the passing night sky, quickly ominous black clouds blotted the light. Uneasy, guilt, sadness, determination. Propelled into cold pitch black of fear, slate grey rising in curling smoke gaining width and thickness,air warming to luke. Empty, sympathetic, pained. Deep whispered words drowned by bubbling liquid, marred with low hum.

'She's been left... completely alone.' (Huh?)

Spinning, spiraling between ice and nothing. Dizzy, apprehension, confusion.

Stop. Heated gusts from every direction as a muted inky golden purifies bringing blurred light. Flowing words, slow like honey, warped with trickling water and mechanical whizzing.

"...If you need anything, just call for me... Anything, Haruhi." (Who...? Me?)

Flames of pleasant fluttering heat licked in sharp curves the golden hazy light as joy pierced through with peals of joyous laughter, rumbling blur to clear into blinding white light. Suddenly at end with the drop of a heavy blanket bringing with it obsidian to snuff out the brilliance. Not comforting. Suffocating. Panic. Shame. Rage. Utter despair.

Pressure wafting up, wrapping, embracing. Caressing in soothing affection with prickling, growing, engulfing hot numb. Sheltering among the cool blue mist ascending. Booming yet quiet, murmured, yet intense, clear and distorted.

'She shouldn't have to do this.' (Me?)

Rapid upsurge morphed blue to red. Resolute. Protective. Words in gentle roars, washing the atmosphere in unwavering intensity.

"It's going to be okay, I'll figure out how to fix this..." (So familiar... this voice...)

~O~O~

"Tamaki." Dark eyes flashed dangerously behind his designer frames as he delicately laid Haruhi's serene, sleeping form upon her thin bedding, taking care that her head took a comfortable position on the pillow before he raised a brow at the tomato-faced blonde. "Grow up, will you? Really."

Rapidly darkening, the violet-eyed host king backed away from the opened dresser, biting on his lips in order to keep the yelp in check. He had seen undergarments before, but these were Haruhi's, and they weren't nearly as modest as he had expected. Inching closer to the door, he turned in the frame to calm himself.

"Ah, looks as if Ranka did some shopping before he..." Shuffling through a few drawers, Kyoya grabbed something suitable to dress the girl in, nonchalantly tossing a comment or two at the frazzled blonde before becoming a bit impatient at the lack of help. "Honestly, she's been naked this entire time, and you're going to be like this over a couple scraps of cloth? Tch. Out."

"W-what? There's no way I'm going to leave you alone with Haruhi in her indecent state of undress!" His scream-whisper came out in crackling squeaks as he flipped around at a dizzying speed, scuttling over to the raven-haired boy that was laying out the articles of clothing in order of placement.

"Then I suggest you stay still, and quiet while we dress her. We can't very well leave her nude and wrapped in this." A graceful flick of his wrist indicated the inky black fabric surrounding the unconscious female. "It would only prove to further confuse her, not like waking up with half of your memories gone, won't."

With one hand he uncovered an arm, slipping the strap of a little blue lace bra over it and sliding it over her shoulder. Covering that side, he worked on the other side with care.

"Lift her upper body a bit so that I can secure this damned thing."

~O~O~

Throat sore from his incessant rambling, Hikaru had stopped his mumbles once Kyoya and the host king had departed, taking Haruhi to be cared for in her own home, and he took on a more ponderous demeanor. Stewing, even. He had no idea what he should be feeling. He was happy she was alive, terrified how she would react to whatever Nekozawa had done to her, unbearably sad that she had died... With nerves buzzing, stomach doing flips and cramping, his hands were shaking and he felt like he was crawling in his own skin. This secret that they would have to keep; no one would believe them if they said anything, and if they did say something, their respectable families would be centered around some sort of scandal. The whole thing was confusing, from feeling to repercussions.

"Ah, ow! Hikaru!" Without much thought, his hand, still intertwined with his brother's was squeezing, trying to fit itself into a tight ball. Releasing Kaoru's hand with a mumbled apology, he took back his perch in the recesses of his mind, staring intently at the clean, beige fibers of the carpeted floorboards.

It was uncomfortably silent in the shared vehicle, all wanting to say something, anything, but bereft the right words. Broaching the anger would do nothing to soothe, mentioning the pain would bring nothing but guilt, referring to Haruhi would bring nothing but further confusion. It was a sticky tension that none knew how to overcome.

~O~O~

'You can't be too certain that wiping her memory would really do any good, Umehito.' Felted stumpy paws scratched at the puppet's ears as the low voice whispered through his human companion's head.

With a rustle of the leather, Nekozawa settled deeper into the seat of the vehicle, closing his clouded eyes and attempting to block the cat's words. Blowing out a sigh of resignation, he responded to the divine feline twitching on his hand.

"And how is that, Bereznoff? She won't recall a thing from this, much less being as lost as she was when her father passed. I say I did her a favor." Annoyance began to take a sharp tone in his voice, as he further vocalized how much she wouldn't remember of him. "She retains important information; school, facts yet she looses the feeling that had consumed her, in turn, completely forgetting about me, or why we shared a brief relationship... and completely forgets the... ritual..."

'Are you sure that what you did was what she was asking for? Because if it wasn't-' The puppet was cut off as Nekozawa growled deep in his throat.

"I do understand the workings of my own spells, you know." Opening his blue eyes just to narrow them at the felt companion, he glared before turning away from Bereznoff to look through the heavy tinted glass.

'Well, then! Since you know everything, I suppose I don't need to tell you how different the girl is... I'm still not sure you fully comprehend as much as you should.'

Giving an undignified snort, he less than kindly set the companion to the seat next to him, not wanting to deal with the puppet's movements as his irritation grew with Bereznoff's amused tone and sing-song banter. The wrenching of his heart and the cold weight in his stomach just didn't seem to phase the puppet and it was almost too much to take. He felt empty, hollow as he recalled watching her recoil, as she pleaded to forget, the fear in her doe eyes before their last kiss. Things he would never forget, as he would soon watch her pass him by as if nothing had ever happened. As if they were still strangers.

Hitting him again with shocking, stabbing pain in his gut and crushing his lungs, was the unbearable loss as he grimaced at his reflection in the window. She broke his curse and in return she was traumatized and turned away. He could only bite his lip to catch the sob, sending prayers to the higher powers that her idiot friends would finally make her happy, for he had failed her.

'Quit whining, pansy! It's not that bad.'

"Do you not understand that she was tortured? That she was dead? That all of this was in some way or another my fault? 'Not that bad,' you say? I beg to differ."

'All has happened as it was meant to, with exceptions, Umehito. I told you once before, fate is a tricky thing.'

~O~O~

With one last glance through her bedroom door, he swept an errant strand of hair back, combing the fingers of one hand through the ebony locks and gripping at the luxurious fabric of the folded black cloak in his other.

It was no doubt going to be a long night, but before it could begin and end, he would have to return home and inform his father of his escapade. It would do no good to beat around the bush and allow the family patriarch to discover his dealings from anyone other than himself. Straightening his glasses, he blew out a short breath, turning and softly shutting the door behind him.

"She's safe, mon ami." Amethyst eyes met his own obsidian with a dreamy joy as his gentle simper crinkled his cheeks. Kyoya's own tight-lipped smile and lazy nod agreed with the sentiment.

Tamaki was right, in any light that was cast, the bottom line was that Haruhi had come back alive. She was there, in the flesh, sleeping upon her own low-class sheets and snoring like a barnyard animal, and for that he was relieved. Thankful for her life, grateful for Nekozawa's 'interference,' and determined. Whether it be hell or high waters, he could only try to the furthest extent of his own abilities to fill the void of Nekozawa Umehito that the boy himself forfeited in order for Haruhi to live a normal life without anguish. A heavy feat that he would willingly attempt until he would at least come close, knowing he could never fully compare.

"You're correct." Striding through the small home, the boys filed out of the modest home, locking the door behind them. "Well, let's get going. We can't afford having to explain why we're here, it's bad enough I've got to get her spare uniform and have Tachibana sneak it in, but I've also got to speak with father and put in some urgent requests with life insurance agencies amongst many other things."

Golden brows knitted and his head cocked in fleeting confusion as the two made their way down the metal stairs as quietly as the steps would allow before he completely understood. Loose ends needed to be tied in order for the chestnut-haired crossdresser to be covered, safe from her own mind and taken care of financially. A gentle smile cut across his features as he stared after his cool-type friend. As unconcerned as Kyoya played himself off as, he had the most consideration for Haruhi's own well-being next to Nekozawa and himself.

"Kyoya?" He questioned as the teen opened the door of his waiting car. "Do you... think I could tag along and help? Honestly, I don't think I could sleep tonight." Lenses flashed under the street light as the shadow king slowly turned his head.

"Just keep quiet and it should be fine." Predatory, his words cut like daggers in icy stabs along his spine, all he could do was nod.

~O~O~

It had been at least an hour after the car had dropped them off, an hour that he had taken off down the road, leaving Kaoru standing in the front of their estate without so much of a word. He couldn't do it; couldn't walk into their home as if nothing had happened, as if nothing had changed.

So he ran. Stripping down to just his boxers and shoes in the middle of their drive, his brother gaping at him the whole time. He didn't care, he just needed to get away. He needed to let the thoughts consume him as his muscles screamed at him with his furiously gaining speed, as his lungs felt like they would collapse. He would push on, allowing the emotions to fuel the jog while his mind sorted her lifeless form into the obscure fog of repressed memories.

Feet slowing, he came upon a lampost clinging to it for balance as his stomach clenched violently, lungs rapidly gasping for what air could fill them, and the sharp jolts of gripping pain that wracked his ribs while the burning tears and heavy pressure took his face in crimson glow and salted sheen, stomach acid trickling from his sputtering mouth in mucousy lines.

Doubled over in over-exerted torment, he had finally made his mind obey. Clarity over his own thoughts gave his sweating countenance a thin and bitter half-grin.

~O~O~

Stoking the coals and feeding water along the top of the round stone in the basin, he backed away, watching the steam rush the room in billowing white folds, heating it further as he took his seat on the damp towel upon the cedar bench in the hand-built sauna of light, sturdy wood. The humid environment helped to free his mind as he meditated, allowing the guilt, grief and confusion to leave his body with the sweat that rolled from his pores.

His onyx eyes stayed fixed at the back of his lids as he focused on inner peace, sanctity, devotion; not allowing his mind be sullied by the horrors of the day. Or, at least that is what he attempted.

Flittering back and forth through his own inactions, Takashi found himself unable to relax. Extensive work with the shinai and his own ancestral bushi katana, did nothing to quell the raging dishonor that swept through his entire body, deep into his soul.

There he sat, the steam rolling off of his soaking body along the ridges of hard-toned muscles as his hair laid en matte across his brow. The wet smoke seeping into his lungs in torrid droves, exiting in an cool release as he pushed the ongoing regret from his mind.

I did nothing to avenge when we found her, but she is alive. I knew nothing as she suffered, though she will not remember. Mitsukuni and I gave up once it was clear that she would not want to speak with us any longer, and I would have been fine with it. What kind of man am I? What type of psuedo honor allows abandon of one they swore to protect of their own accord?

Closing his eyes a bit tighter, he breathed deeper the cleansing steam, allowing it to burn in his chest and nostrils with prickling stings. It was going to be a very long night.

~O~O~

Sitting at the large window, Kaoru fingered the thick fabric of the drapes, shooting the folded pile of clothes odd glances between thoughts and staring into the night. His brother hadn't said a word to him, just took on a crazed look, stripped and ran. Golden-amber eyes locked onto the pavement below, waiting for the return of his double, for explanation. For some form of understanding in such a clusterfuck of a day. Pressing his cheek against the glass, he let the cloth fall from his hand as he traced lines in the condensation upon the window absently.

He felt so numb, so cold, apart from his brother as he sat terrifyingly replaying the day, an unsettling wrenching taking over his gut as his breath came in shuddering shivers. Seeing nothing but the fog on the window as it served as backdrop for the reel of images he'd rather just forget.

The slamming of the bedroom door and maniacal deep chuckle made him jump from his own thoughts in a sudden jerk, catching sight of his brother, red with the cool wind that had punished his skin along his run, with an eerie curve to his lips and brow.

"...Its not real, it was never real. This is just one big elaborate fucked up dream... We'll wake up at any moment and everything will be back as it always was. " A rapid nod took over his sweat slick head as he bit his lip. "She didn't die. No one can die and come back to life... It's not possible." His darting eyes landed on a ceramic elephant as his voice rumbled on louder.

"IT'S NOT POSSIBLE! JUST A DREAM!" A forced guffaw filled the air as he grabbed the cool surface, rubbing his thumbs along the grooves in the decorations of the sculptured pachyderm before tossing it against the wall. "THIS IS JUST A FUCKING DREAM!" The clunking crash sounded, denting the wall as the pieces shattered in large shards and dust, sprinkling the small table and dresser with the impact debris as they fell toward the floor.

In cautious pads, the youngest twin stepped nearer his elder brother, a shielding hand outstretched as the boy in front of him thrashed, swiping blindly at whatever he could get his hands on. It would take more to stop his nonsense, so gulping past the shocked lump, Kaoru jumped at the boy, tossing his arms around his live other half. The muscles in Hikaru's arms and back went slack as Kaoru laid his face to the boy's nape, tightening his hold. They fell to their knees entagled, as the sobs wracked Kaoru's soft tone, wavering in hot blasts against Hikaru's shoulder blades.

"It wasn't a dream, Hika." He grittedly attempted while sniffing up the watery trail trying to mark his face, squeezing his burning eyes shut, he moved his dampened face deeper into the back of his brother. "She was dead."

"No." Hoarsely, Hikaru replied, unable to accept that someone as special as their toy, their third, their little cross-dresser, their friend, had endured such a fate. "No, no, no, no..." Bringing trembling hands to his face, he kept denying in crackling wails as his brother held him, locked in his own mind trying to accept it himself.

"But she's not now. She's fine. She's fine... Hikaru, she's alive."

~O~O~

Beady black eyes surrounded with fluffy pink fur stared at him as he sat slumped at the fully stocked table of confectionaries in front of him. Sweet frosting had lost its flavor and his stomach felt uncomfortably full even without having taken more than a single bite. Sugar had hardened the fluffy cloud coating the sponge, leaving it hardened and cracked as his fork stayed stuck in the top, stabbed upon it's unsatisfactory taste.

But the boy stared on, past the sponge, even past the plastic eyes that his own were directed at. What do I do?

He wouldn't let himself cry, the grief that he felt so deeply, tearing holes in his soul with the frigid talons of echoing emptiness, it was not his to feel. He wasn't worthy to feel such pain, not worthy of the relief nor inexplicable happiness. What he deserved was numb and that is what he would allow. How do I act?

Always having been able to portray what he wanted, he was at a complete loss now. His age-earned maturity would not allow for anything but the facts, to be as he'd always been; the childish side would not allow for anything less than letting his emotions take over. To cry with anguish as he laughed heartily with the relief.

Though, he hadn't been there for the girl. He hadn't helped get through the loneliness when her father had forsaken her, nor had he pushed to help her heal through his death. He was absent from her life when she had been cut wide and scared, sinking into the abyss of death. He had stared at her tormentor without the slightest move. Breathing in wheezy pants, his eyes felt like fire burning deep into his skull as he forced his lids to stay open, afraid of the images that would haunt him if he'd close them for just a moment. Just what right do I have to feel... anything?...Where do I go from here?