X

He already vowed to someone- no, everyone- that he’ll manage to go through the war alive and intact, safe and sound. But the war didn’t meet his expectations; it was too bloody, too painful, too aggressive, too deafening- everything that he could possibly think of to counter even his own belief. Truth to be told, fate was unfair, they were far outnumbered and the chance of emerging the victor was too low. He drew his sword to rest at his side, wondering when he had the right to complain and even the urge to do so.

Real warriors don’t coward in fear of fate, he reminded himself, the sound of bones cracking, flesh ripping, clangs of deadly swords and arrows and blood-curdling screams falling on his ears. He had gone through almost the same ordeal himself, only that his experience had not been this agonizing and petrifying. His grip tightened around the handle of his sword in irritation and complicated thoughts continued dancing in his supposedly war-filled mind. He received a pretty bad gash earlier ago.

He wrapped thin fingers on his wounded side, taking a brief moment to think of how they fared in the fight. It was funny and odd, the way his injury didn’t pain him as he really expected it to do so. He mumbled incomprehensible curses under his breath. Was it giving him the impression that he’s already slain and dead? His vision wobbled hazardously and everything was beginning to fall into a dark haze which he still wasn’t familiar with. He held onto his sword as he drove its solid tip to the muddy ground for support.

“Can you still keep up with that condition, Echizen?” said the carefree mocking voice from behind him as Ryoma whipped around to face him with a fiery glare. Atobe had his sword situated on his shoulder blade, an annoying beam plastered on his face. Ryoma realized at once that one wrong move would mean instant death, trying to still his uneven breath and the rate of his heart beat.

But then the pointed weapon was dropped from his body, but it traveled down- where? He was in the verge of unconsciousness and he didn’t bother to think where- and when, for that matter- he would be pierced at with that scornful sword of Atobe’s. Everything went pitch black before he could even react to what the taller man had delivered to him, but he could care less. But even before he was rendered out cold by the treacherous fate he was positive that he felt a sharp gash of pain, followed by a distress cry of another fellow combatant, and lastly, the sweet words and melody of someone and that irked him, because perhaps he had broken an important promise this time around.

XX

She placed both of her hands instinctively over her mouth, a gasp of anguish escaping her lips. She had warned him prior to the bloody war, of course, and perhaps even a deft warrior such as him couldn’t escape what fate had in store for him. But she can’t accept this, for some unknown reason. She forced her unsteady legs to run- run to where Ryoma was placed, and know what happened.

Momoshiro spotted her amongst the growing mass of a crowd and gave her a grief-stricken look that made her even more anxious. Her cloak slipped off her head through her trembling hands as the sunlight seemed to sparkle off her auburn hair. She headed towards them and even though it was just a short distance it was as if she had just ran a marathon. She opened her mouth quickly, but what is it to say? Alas, she found not a single word to utter.

“He’s alive, at the very least,” Momoshiro murmured uneasily, clearing his throat and staring at the bloody figure weighted on his arms, “…Though I’m not sure how long he can still cling on to his life.”

Her pulse jumped at the horrid sight, and she dared not to move an inch at the older man’s painful words. She shakily reached out to find out if Ryoma was still warm and somehow, alive, but she already paused midway in her reach, as if there was an unexplainable invisible force stopping her wrist. Tears were lost in the dreary silence of the crowd as she identified all his wounds. There was a bad slash that was dangerously near to his right eye. She’s the one at fault, she realized, she could’ve stopped him from joining the battle when she had the chance. But it seemed like it was too late to do anything now, and she-

“Bring him to us straight away, you idiot!” came the worried loud voice that alarmed Momoshiro. He gulped as he turned around to follow the direction of the booming voice, and swiftly sweat dropped as he figured out the owner of the voice. He gave a quick nod at Sakuno’s direction as he sprang up to his feet and ran to where her grandmother stood along with her helpers. She darted her gaze back to Momoshiro’s fading image, wondering for a split second if Ryoma would survive.

And yes, he will. He’s especially not the type who breaks promises so easily. He’ll remain alive.

Stuck in her own words and promises of sweet nothingness, she can’t think straight.

XXX

Uneven, labored breathing.

Tranquility.

Tiny sounds of the thin cloth being grasped by a frail hand in unpredictable motions of the hand.

More stillness.

She carefully ran numb fingers against the side of his face which was being treated by her grandmother witch, aware of the dripping blood that tainted her skin. The dead silence of the room was inwardly driving her crazy, and she hoped that this insanity would end.

“Even the strongest healing potions and spells couldn’t wake him,” said her grandmother in a deep distressed voice, shaking her head in regret, “…At least; he’ll live on until tonight.”

But Sakuno didn’t like the idea, and she found no absolute assurance in her grandmother’s statement. Ryoma may have sinned heavily in the past and even in the present, but he didn’t deserve death in such a young age. It doesn’t matter now if death would’ve still been a part of his man pride and dignity, what does is that he’ll live. And so she shut her eyes, deciding that she’ll settle this once and for all.

“…I’ll do it,” she spoke in a surprisingly calm demeanor, albeit her hands were still vaguely quivering in fear and regret, “Magic wasn’t meant only for destruction-” she broke to a half-smile “-I could use it. Mine isn’t any different from other types of magic…”

Her grandmother stared at her in faint shock, knowing all too well that what her granddaughter was referring to was almost a taboo kind of magic. It was a risky type of a spell that even expert magicians find it hard to execute and control. One false move would be too perilous, and if handled more flippantly it may lead to instant death. She herself couldn’t predict the aftermath if one manages to release such a powerful spell, and she found no comfort and faith in it at all.

Sakuno stepped up and sighed heavily, reluctance dawning upon her, but she knew it was all worth it. She cast a questioning look at her grandmother once more, but she couldn’t read the expression that was carved on her face. But the witch murmured something about her being hopelessly stubborn and reckless, and the young sorceress merely smiled at her grandmother’s words.

She placed both of her hands lightly against the near-dying warrior’s chest, eyes fixed on the tousled blue hair of the boy. She wasn’t even sure if she can correctly recite the spell, but she’ll give it a try anyway.

Neon green light began to shine throughout the whole room, signifying that in some way her magic was working. She can feel the hot sensation under her sweaty palms, and the same watery substance running down from her forehead to her flushed cheeks. She heard herself say words that even she couldn’t understand, almost as if she was being control by yet another unknown force. It was becoming more and more unbearable with each passing second until she suddenly let go of him, leaning against the wall for support, and her grandmother trying to comfort her and say that it wouldn’t work.

But no, if he can still hold on before he was rendered unconscious in the battlefield, then it’s the same as her trying until she can no longer utter the spells. She stood up steadily, drawing a sharp intake of breath before situating her hands again on their respective places. The first failure had already weakened her badly, and so she couldn’t afford to lose now for the second time around.

And then there was another glow, brighter than before, but she didn’t know what happened next, whether it failed or not, whether it was a miracle that answered their prayers or just another failure- she wasn’t sure exactly. But she passed out, her poor figure slumping against the wall, at least not on Ryoma’s.

She guessed that it was a failure more than a success, and that it may be goodbye to Ryoma by tonight. It was hard to believe in miracles, she thought, painfully hard.

She believed she wasn’t strong enough to hold back the tears that have already found their way down to the floor.

XXXX

He cupped her face with his abrasive fingers that night, keenly noticing the tear stains on her pale skin. She was sound asleep on a stool on the other side of his bed, apparently exhausted and weary with a blanket draped over her shoulders to ward off the chills of the night.

He didn’t even think that he can survive the harshness of the war earlier ago, and thought that fate was probably written already and cannot be changed nor altered. It was an almost scary thought, he admitted, but now he knew that fate wasn’t that almighty after all, and that miracles happen sometimes- just sometimes. And he was quite lucky today.

Or perhaps, it would be easier to thank her more than anything, because if it wasn’t of her tireless efforts, he would’ve been a goner by now.

Soft fingers curled around his callused ones before he drifted off to sleep once more, hoping that both of them would find each other’s dreams pleasant and beautiful.

XXXXX

Author’s Notes: I’ve been musing about some decent notes from me here, so, I’ll just share a few tidbits of this story.

1. I based this story loosely on my current OTP, which is Kurogane/Fai~♥
2. I don’t really know why, but I’m feeling some OOCness present in this fic, or maybe I’m just too carried away while typing this? (shrugs)
3. Take note that Ryoma and Sakuno were probably around nineteen years old at this fic’s timeline. The rest is up to your imaginations.

Oh, and reviews are love, and reading this alone is love, too!

Thanks and hope you enjoyed this!~