You want the truth?

I hate ending this story.

But it's time.

As I write this entire thing, take note that I'm practically bawling over the keyboard.

I feel so good about this story, all of it, that I know it's a perfect time to end.

I just have a favor for all of you.

Read the sequel when I post it. It'll be called "Rough Touch" and it's more manga-based than anime. And please, feel free to share this with people, read it again, and even keep on reviewing this story. I'm gonna seriously miss this, and I feel so horrible to be ending it. I have put so much of me in this story that you could easily learn about me as a person from between the lines.

Please, read this story, savor every last part of this last chapter.

And, as always…



Things were taking their course.

Giriko was healing.

Justin was packing up their things as subtly as he could.

The two had found time alone to plan how they would go about leaving.

The whole time, Justin could feel that slight bit of insanity he felt in his unconscious state, that slight vision of a kishin eye, overtaking his mind. But whenever Giriko was near, his soul wavelength always held back the madness from consuming his brain, and he loved the chainsaw for that reason, as well. Giriko's body seemed to know the importance of healing up, for he was recovering quickly and perfectly along with their planned goals.

After about five months, everything was set up as it was. Justin walked Giriko home with him to their apartment, and it was their last day there before they would leave and someone else would take it. Justin had sold all his furniture, packed only two little gunnysacks so that they could travel light, and made a good route to follow as they worked to leave.

Walking down the darkened streets now, Giriko glanced around, holding Justin close, their bags slung over their shoulders as they roamed about the dim lights of the alleys. "You're sure it's safe?" Giriko whispered, preparing his chainsaws in case. Justin nodded, smiling a bit. "Yeah, and the cart is going to be coming by, get ready to break your anklet." It wasn't long before they quickly delved into the shadows, and a young man lugging behind him a vegetable cart began to trudge by, looking tired. "Almost done…" the man gasped out, "Almost done…"

Justin met eyes with Giriko and nodded.

Letting his chainsaws silently whir, he used them to break the anklet, which immediately began to send a signal Shinigami. Then, leaning forward, Giriko set it down on the cart, which was slowly being wheeled up to the school.

That was the plan, though.

Find something at the speed of walking to carry the anklet.

Make it look like Giriko and Justin were going back to get it fixed.

"We can't waste time," Justin pulled Giriko's arm roughly, hissing low, "We need to get out of here. There aren't supposed to be guards on this side of the perimeter at this hour, but they'll be checking this area quickly if we don't leave!" Giriko silently nodded, and the two headed down a street of dead lampposts, their shoes making the slightest padding noises as they left the city.

Remaining completely silent as they exited the gates, they didn't feel completely safe enough to talk until they were some distance away, the city far in the horizon and the dark desert around them gently covering it with sand.

"…" Justin paused, looking back at the school one more time, the image of the kishin eye flashing in his mind.

Giriko kept walking, but quickly slowed to a stop, looking back at him.

"… I'll never be able to go back…"

Giriko stared on at his lost, empty boyfriend before letting out a curse and pulling a little wooden box from his pocket. "Here," he shoved it into Justin's arms, looking away. Justin could see a blush forming on Giriko's face, even in the dull moonlight, and he looked at the box. "What is it?" "I made it for you."

Justin frowned a bit, and he slowly opened it.

And inside, it was so beautiful.

A painting of himself and Giriko close together.

And a little tune, metallic and soft, rung out. Justin blushed, as it was the first heavy-metal tune he'd played for Giriko while the brunette was unconscious, when Giriko had first saved his life.

"… It's… It's a music box."

Giriko scratched the back of his neck, groaning. "Yeah, so what?" he sighed, "Can we just go now?" Justin leaned up, kissing his cheek and nodding. "Yeah," he smiled, "We can go now. No looking back anymore." He gently took Giriko's hand, pleased when Giriko took his own hand in return, and they began to walk again. The music box remained open, playing that cute little tune throughout the cold night air, dancing around the two lovers who abandoned their home and previous lives.

But so did the death-metal melody carry them away.

And so the night air was filled with a tune that was once romantic.

A tune that became theirs.

A Death-Metal Song that was now their lullaby.

The Death-Metal Melody of their lives.


Super short.

I know….

But this is the end.

Wait sometime for Rough Touch.

. The end, goodbye to this story…

. Review, please.