Disclaimer: Not mine. Even I'm not that over the top.
Notes: Themed after GTO's Hitori no Yoru -- Lonely Night, performed by Porno Graffiti. This is not really meant to be broken up into parts, but I have so that I can post it as I write it, but more importantly, for clarity between the realities (as you'll soon see.)

"Stand where you are, Carrot Glace!"
The figure stopped and leaned against a tree, bent silhouette straightening a moment. It was always trouble when they knew his real name--he hadn't used it for decades. He was under the impression Carrot Glace was dead.
"You might as well face facts--"
His hand dropped to his side and grew until it swept the ground. Occasionally, droplets of blood made soft little impressions in the dirt as he sidled himself towards the loudmouth.
"This is the age of sorcery, people like you are extinct and rightly so!"
They knew better than to use magic on him, but rarely knew better than to gloat. He swept by the sorcerer, leaving a gash to his throat that dropped him like a marionette cut of its strings. A wave of needles fell upon the area.
Now, the second one--or was he third, fourth, thousandth?--the last one most likely, given the mess he'd made of his leg. The last one was giving him trouble. The wave of needles was damn dense and impossible to dodge--the injuries to his shoulders told him that--but also silent and quick, something he couldn't outrun.
Well, he couldn't run now, anyway.
If he could just find the bastard. It wasn't a big difference, a single sorcerer--but he had done his best, as the last sorcerer hunter, to be the most effective sorcerer hunter, and that meant down to the last drop of blood.
But it was hard to hear anything over the sluggish pounding in his ears, the rasping of his throat. The darkness gave him cover, but his vision was nearly nonexistent in all this--
I'm happy with it.
He smiled a little, surprised at himself.
Thing is, I want him to die too.
After all, sorcerer hunters died in battle, on missions, didn't they? Not that he'd had a mission in years, even a self-assigned one. He was the target, a final relic of warlike days.
He fell forward on one knee, jolting from his concentrated consciousness. He was losing blood faster than he thought--he'd made a noise--some abstract demon's sense felt the sharp-edged cloud hovering over him even as time slowed--
Well, he always had his final option. And he did have a little magic left.
His bones creaked and cracked as all of it surged through his veins, and the beast was there, and the blood of the former Carrot Glace and the former sorcerers were both underfoot.
Then it was just the former Carrot Glace again, smiling at the dimming world, not even sighing as it tore away.

Despite almost wanting it, he couldn't believe that ... that was it, killed, finally. It wasn't as if he had died young or easily. But, finally, there it was. He was dead.
Only...
This was perhaps even more hard to come to grips with than being dead. While he was dead, he was also standing--standing?--upright in some random room, staring at some sorcerer who looked vaguely familiar. With the odd memory of the elderly, he recalled him from long ago days. The sorcerer had hit him with magic, he transformed, end of sorcerer. An easy case. But that meant that guy was dead too.
Oh no, he wouldn't have to fight them all again would he? It was their own fault for being evil and stupid. Didn't the afterlife know that the evil, stupid ones shouldn't get a second chance?
At this point, Carrot became aware that his legs were shaking violently. No wonder, with no staff for support or anything. He let them cave in on themselves, and the rest of his body followed, until he was just a ball of clothing topped with fingers running through scruffy hair.
"Niisan....?"
Wow, he'd really heard that. He must've imagined it, then. Something so soft being so distinct ... then again, when you're dead, do you need ears?
"What's wrong with him?"
Carrot found he could tell where they were just by the clunking of their footsteps. The sounds of battle--Marron was in front, blocking the sorcerer's attacks. Chocolat and Gateau weaved in and out, trying to attack without getting hurt. Tira was kneeling by him... he could see the edge of her skirt on the floor...her hand was on his shoulder.
Then the easily recognizable sound of someone's head severing neatly from their body. It was a hard sound to forget.
"Niisan, are you all right?"
It was so strange. How could anyone possibly know all that without ever looking up? It was as if the information was wired straight into his brain--like a dream where you look at a written page, and the words just arrive in your head. There was no way...everything was too full...he needed to back away, but where to?
"Darling, what's wrong?!" He could feel them clustered around, despite the air between. He didn't have senses like that!
"That wasn't an attack spell." Carrot could picture Marron's expression so well, he could almost reach out and touch it. That, perhaps, would have made sense, if it hadn't been so long since he'd last seen his brother. "We'd better see Big Momma."
"Darling!" Strong hands shook him, pulled his head up. It was horrible, how it all flooded in. Chocolat's expression was horrible, too.
"Wh... what..." he found his voice, but that wasn't his voice, either. It sounded young and scared. "I'm alive?"
"Of course you're alive, Darling," Chocolat forced a smile onto her face. "We wouldn't let anything happen to you."
He looked around. Tira was hugging one of his arms, and Marron and Gateau were standing behind Chocolat, looking down at him with tense expressions. Each of them seemed to flinch into a harder expression when he looked at them.
"But I...died..."
"Twerp, you're alive, can't you see that?"
Chocolat wiped at his face with her sleeve. After a moment, he realized it was coming away damp.
"But... you're dead. All of you. And me..." Carrot's neck went limp, his eyes on the ceiling. "Do I have to do it all again?"

They sat, tensely, each not pacing for the others' sakes. Every once in a while, one of them would realize they'd been tapping their toe on the floor or drumming their fingertips on the wood. They reined themselves in again, and concentrated on the sounds down the hall.
Most of it was muffled talking, the sort you heard walking down the street and knew there'd been a domestic dispute. Female chords talked smoothly or sternly to the male voice, which occasionally rose loud enough to hear.
"But I died!" They could just make it out. "That makes me dead!"
The group twitched. That was enough--they pounded down the hallway and through the door, pushing one of the Haz Knights aside.
Carrot was sitting with the soles of his feet together, on the bed. He was pouting, all his features drawn to the middle region of his face.
"Twerp, you're alive, that makes you alive."
"Am I really?" Carrot stared down at his hands. "These aren't my hands."
There was a rap on the door, and Dotta flew in, placing a full length mirror directly before Carrot. He stared. When he moved to touch the mirror and the image moved too, he jumped and fell off the bed.
There was a collective sigh.
"Look, he's had a shock," said Mille Feuille, looking high-strung. Carrot had picked himself up and was poking at the mirror, staring at himself. "He needs time to adjust."
"That's supposed to be me? I haven't looked like that since I was a little kid!" Carrot ran his hands through his hair. "An' I kind of remember being handsomer."
"Wishful thinking," said Gateau shortly.
"You are a little kid, Carrot dear." Mille closed his eyes and shook his head.
"Look, my skin snaps back!"
They stared.
"He thinks he's an old man." said Mille Feuille, sighing. Carrot was oblivious to their gaze--he was craning his neck in odd ways, trying to see if he really looked like that boy in the mirror. Once he gave up on this, he bounded up, overshot the area next to the bed and plastered himself to a wall.
"Is .... is he going to be all right?" Tira stared at him with horrified amazement.
"Convincing him he's young won't take too long," said Mille. "He can feel that he's young."
Carrot finally pulled himself off the wall, collapsing and clutching at his nose. "How dib I doob dat?"
"You're young, you have a lot of energy, therefore you only have to put forth a minimum of effort." Mille's voice was flat, as if he'd recited this several times already.
Carrot got up carefully and managed not to fall over backwards.
"The real problem," Mille turned back to the others, "is that he believes he's an old man because he's lived his whole life already."
"But I did!" Carrot walked awkwardly over to them. "I was there!"
"Niisan, that was a delusion, a spell." Marron's brow creased.
"How do I know this is really real, then?" Carrot felt at the wall, as if to see if he'd fall through.
Mille sighed, shook his head again and stood. "I give up! This is harder than making him realize he's bi!"
The door slammed behind him. Carrot blinked at it.
"But I am bi! That was ages ago!"
Chocolat's face loomed up before him. "You're. Not. Bi."
Carrot squeaked and hid behind his blankie.
Marron sat down on the edge of the bed. "Niisan, what else has changed?"
"Um, well..." He peeked out. Chocolat was giving him the "Don't you DARE" look that she usually reserved for when pretty girls were about. Tira had her hands to her face, which was starting to match her cloak.
"Uh, I can control my powers now..." He looked down at his arm, and, failing to see what he expected, brought it closer. "No, that's right, I don't have them any more..."
"You never had them," corrected Gateau.
"Had what, Niisan?"
"The ... the gauntlet, arm cuff thingies." He looked annoyed at their confusion. "Well, how would you know? You're dead!"
"We're not dead." said Gateau.
"Pfft. You are. I felt it." He groused at their disbelieving expressions. "Look, when Chocolat died, I looked up at Marron, and he just nodded. We knew, okay?"
"She's not dead, dammit! Are you blind?"
Carrot turned to Chocolat, and seemed to be studying her face. He turned the opposite way, and looked Marron over, but noted only a few features of Tira and Gateau before shaking his head.
"I don't believe it. I don't believe any of it."
He looked down.
"I felt it."
And from where she watched her crystal ball, Big Momma lowered her head sadly, as the image winked out.