As they walked into the clubroom, a present waited for the Yukan Club.

It was the clubroom that was once a conference room for investors of St. Presidentional. That same clubroom used to relax after the Yukan Club had a hard day of college. This clubroom they shared since 7th grade.

They were laughing so hard that Yuri's food felt like it was bubbling in her stomach. Noriko and Seishiro smiled, laughing in their calm little way. Karen wasn't though as she was the person and center of the laughter.

Oh, right, there was something about a present.

It was Bido's body.

They were surprised as they entered the room. All those stories that said when bodies are dead, there was an overbearing scent of death were absolutely scent of death were false. Walking up the stairs, only the familiar smell of wood was about them. They weren't ready for this.

But it might as well exist. Noriko and Karen turned on their heels. Faintly, they heard wretching sounds.

True to his…life, Bido was strewn beautifully over the central table. In his St. Presidentional uniform, with one hand against his temple and the other over a great dry blood stain leaking through his jacket.

Yuri, in a trance-like state, approached her friend. Her hands traced over his body, his face.

The faint scar from the bullet Miroku shot. There was the burn mark on his left hand from when he once tried to straighten Yuri's short, short hair. On his lower neck was his aged birthmark.

Yes, this was Bido Granmarie, the woman-killing, quarter-Swedish, loyal friend, lovely person that they all knew.

Yuri backed away and tripped over her two feet. A chair fell over – the only sound in the clubroom. This is Bido played over and over in her head. She couldn't stop the tears.

"I'm going to be sick." Miroku hurried out the room, leaving Yuri and Seishiro alone.

Seishiro hadn't taken a second glance to his friend. He stared out the window beside the seat, his hands on his waist. He breathed in and out. He was a master of his own body and he wouldn't start crying.

"Good After-" The famous council trio stopped dead in their tracks at the door. The Director gasped. Her glasses fell off, showing her true age through the shock. The Principal and the Assistant just stood like idiots with their mouths agape.

By the end of the day, those underclassmen that stayed loyal to their love of Bido were in tears. And those in Yukan Club watched in sobs and shivers as the blond was pulled into Seishiro's ambulance.

Stripped down to the skin, Seishiro couldn't take his eyes off of Bido's body. He signed off of the autopsy – something as ugly as ripping open the body of someone as beautiful as Bido Granmarie did not coincide. Besides, Seishiro could notice the cause of death already. He excused the professionals so he could be alone.

No matter how close this body looked to Bido, to Seishiro it was just too ugly to be true. All over his legs were bruises, cuts that seemed weeks old. How long had Bido been in trouble? Over his chest, fist-shaped bruises changed the skin to a sick yellow. A deep purple bash settled into his cheek and a patch of blood was stamped on the corner of his mouth. The sickest was probably the crusty, messy gash into his stomach that still looked wet.

"Bido…what happened to you?" Seishiro had never heard his voice so small. His hand lay against Bido's cold cheek, thumb flushing against the lashes that held blue eyes captive.

The 'present' was found on Wednesday and Seishiro spent all Thursday just sitting beside his friend in silent mourning. Friday, the men in suits came by and even Seishiro's years of control couldn't stop the want to stop them. The words "He's not dead," were on the edge of his mouth. Saturday was the funeral. The school gymnasium was silent with its numerous attendants, each with a white lily in their hands. As if they were ready for another mission, Yukan Club occupied the first row – Seishiro and Miroku in their suits, Karen and Yuri in their dresses, and Noriko in her kimono. None of them could say anything; barely could they breathe. They didn't acknowledge the bows of condolence from the students and the school. They could only stare at the…casket.

The funeral company did their job well. Bido's skin glowed as it was supposed to. His blond hair framed his face, bringing out his high cheeks and pale pink lips. The white roses about him brought out the blue of his uniform. It was picturesque sight.

It was a miserable hour filled with tears and a heartfelt speech from the Director. And it was over and the five of them were alone.

Miroku walked up first. His feet up the wooden steps resounded painfully. He placed his flower – they had been given pink roses – upon Bido's chest. He heaved up a breath and tried to speak. "Bido…you are…beautiful, silly, stupid, shallow, a narcissist, loyal, and our great friend. We will…miss you…I hope you can be happy and…look…over…us." His voice squeaked and he clasped his hand over his face.

Karen had sometime come up behind Miroku and now placed her hand on her friend's shoulder. Miroku turned towards her and she handed her handkerchief. As Miroku dabbed at his eyes, Karen brought the rose to her lips. A kissed petal lay against Bido's cheek and down his hair she let her hand fall. "Goodbye, Bido." She led Miroku down the stage, or maybe he led her.

Seishiro, with his arms around Yuri, helped her up as they left. She collapsed at the coffin, using the edge to keep herself up. "Yuri…you have to." Seishiro whispered in her ear. The eater let out a sob and nodded. She sat up and looked at her friend. Her sobbing shook her body like a leaf. Hands grabbed Bido's and everyone watched as the rose was placed in his palm. "Bido…you have to keep watching over us, ok? You have to because…because we will always love you." Seishiro looked up at the blond and nodded. He placed his rose on the other side of Bido's head.

Noriko silently stood by. She placed her rose beside Miroku's. Seishiro was quiet in his surprise as the male-phobic young woman leaned down to Bido's forehead and laid a kiss.

They walked out of the gym in an echoing suffering. Bido Granmarie was dead.