Prelude of Surrender

by: HulaHula

Disclaimer: Don't own it - oh! the sadness.

The sun had finally decided to set. It left the Sohma house’s back room cool with just enough light to illuminate the two figures in the middle – one lying on a pallet, the other sitting beside the pallet clutching his head between his hands.

Shigure held his aching head. Crying always left him with a headache. Blue eyes stared, lost in thought, out of the open porch door at the back of Akito’s room. She continued to lay desolate and open on the floor before him. Still breathing – although her rough rasp was filling the room with her imminate departure. None of the Sohma maids or even Hatori had intruded. Peace and quiet rested along the house, something that had been rare for the past two decades . . . since the Sohma God’s birth.

Peace. However, Shigure had the distinct feeling that not only will Akito’s departure mean peace. It would be emptiness. For him. For his heart. For his life. What would he do with himself after her death? What would his day revolve around now? What could possibly fill the hole in his thoughts that had always been owned by Akito?

Tenderly, he brought his gaze up to her face again. He gently lay one palm on her chilled forehead. “Shh . . . ” he whispered out of habit, “Your fine. Your safe. Go on. Just know – I’ll be expecting you to wait for me wherever you go. Don’t forget me in paradise, ne?”

His voice broke, but Akito had already heard his sweet message.

She had always loved his hands. Long fingers with light brushes of hair below the knuckles. Sometimes she would find herself just staring at them – grasping a tea cup, tapping a table top, touching her hand. She had always loved how they made her feel. He may be across the room but still she had always known she was safe. His hands would protect her. Right now they were burning her. A beautiful warmth that could only come from him.

Even when she was very young she had been drawn to his hands. Sitting between his legs, they would face her outer garden, and he’d wrap his arms around her from the back. She would run her forefinger in an indistinct path up his index, down his palm, across the back of his hand to the wrist.

She clearly recalled the first time his hands had began to trace her hands in return, until they were performing a bizarre dance between them, with only their two pairs of hands touching. One day, after years and years of sitting together in this manner in the evenings – something changed.

She had been fourteen. Young and quite possibly in love. She had always been aware that Shigure only saw her as a child. She would sit there holding his hand on her bent knees and daydream, ponder, think up plans of how to tell him. Confessions of love had raced through her mind demanding to be spoken, but she had always remained silent, terrified she would mess up the fragile balance they had found with this routine of silence on her back porch.

But it had changed. One of those hands. Hands she was fascinated with and had fascinated about, broke away from her grasp and reached toward her face. Lightly grasping her chin, he tipped her head back and around to face him. Wide eyes met his own. “Don’t be afraid of me,” he had whispered, just before he lowered his darkened gaze to her lips.

The sun had set that night with a smile as it watched the two of them come together. Their first kiss. His soft hand holding her chin up, showing her the way. She had never forgotten how it felt. The large bubble of hot excitement that had pushed up from her stomach to her lungs, robbing her of breath. Yes, Shigure had taken her breath away, in the best way imaginable.

The sun’s dim shadow played along the two lovers exactly as it had the day they had finally come together. And once again the sun was going to watch Shigure and Akito reach a new and inevitable stepping stone in their relationship – separation. Yet, sorrow wasn’t the prevailing emotion soaking the sun’s rays. They had come together again. Akito, tired and numb, let Shigure’s love fill her every ache. She felt his love lift her up. Floating, she took her last shaky breath. I will never forget you, my love, my dear, my Shigure. I’ll be waiting for you . . .

Shigure straightened his back stiffly, then swiftly let his breath rush out. Akito’s lovely shell lay before him. It was over. He was alone in the room at last.

His bottom lip trembled as two more tears slid down his face. She would wait for him on the other side. He was sure of it. But, Kami, he was going to miss her. He gently closed her mouth with his right hand, stood, then slowly smoothed the wrinkles at the front of his robe. He turned and walked away from the pain and sorrow.

Shigure felt his footfall grow lighter with each step he took away from the body. Hatori met him at the door of the room. The message of death was passed between the men unspoken. Hatori looked to the ground before placing a firm hand on Shigure’s shoulder.

“Will you be ok?” Hatori whispered.

“Hia.” Shigure muttered. Then, he took in Hatori’s flushed cheeks and knowing look.

“Has something happened while I was in the room with her?”

“Yes,” Hatori chuckled against his will, “I’ve just been to visit Kagura-san.”

Shigure raised a slender brow, unsure what Hatori was getting at.

“She’s officially pregnant with the next Sohma child.”

Author’s Note: "Kami" is the Japanese word for God.

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