The Final Farewell (Non-Canon)

The procession was slow and there were many tears from the tengu and elves alike within the clan. The loss of the clan master was a heavy one. One that tugged at the hearts of each and every clan member.
The clan master had been loved dearly, just as he had dearly loved his people, a smile on his lips and his lovers and his people always at the forefront of his mind. Though his temper was legendary if you managed to make him angry enough which had been a challenge in its own right as he had grown older.

A single, beautiful man, so lovely and ageless that he could have been a woman stood at the end of the procession to wait not for marriage, but to assist in the ancient ceremony that would carry his lover’s soul onto the afterlife and into the warm embrace of the kami’s arms.

The clan master’s children were there as well, each looking strong and shedding no tears for the clan. But if anyone had actually bothered to look closely enough they would have seen the unshed tears in their eyes and the pain they tried to lock away. Not unlike how it had been for him when…

The procession is a solemn affair but as the clan master would have wanted everyone dressed in beautiful colors to celebrate his life, rather than mourn his death. Despite the tears, everyone looked vibrant. Like he would have wanted and it was very… him.

Throughout the affair he remains on the sidelines and distant, watching the procession distantly as he had before for the previous master and mistress of the clan.

He watches them as the old ritual takes place in silence and then watches as the clan master is returned to the earth. There was more crying from the people who loved him, knowing he would not return to them save perhaps in spirit and then the people slowly began to file away to join the new clan master in their celebration of life for the old master who had passed, until all that is left there are himself and the beautiful man. His brother. Jun.

As he approaches he pulls down his hood, silver hair spilling free from its confines. He places a hand on Jun’s shoulder. They stand together in silence at the spot Kuro now rested though they both knew that his soul had long left the body.

Eventually Jun speaks, his voice soft without anyone around to witness it. “Does it always hurt this much?”

Norita’s hand squeezes Jun’s shoulder gently, but he nods. “Yes. Yes it does. It’s okay for it to hurt Jun.”

Jun’s strong facade fades then and the tears Norita had seen him hold back come running down his cheeks in rivulets. The first time, when Naoko had passed on Jun and Kuro had one another. But now Jun was the only one left and he would likely not follow behind in Kuro or Naoko’s footsteps, passing on to the afterlife for a very long time if ever. For they were immortal, and age, no matter how old they grew, would never reach its end and grant them death.

He pulls Jun into his arms and strokes his head, letting him cry it out against his chest, the tears wetting his clothes.”It will be painful for a long time Jun. But someday… someday perhaps it will fade to be more bearable.” He whispers, his brother clinging to his shirt for the reassurance that there was still someone there. That Norita would not simply disappear.

He rubs a hand soothingly against his brother’s back, his wings wrapping Jun in a gentle embrace. He didn’t know how much time had passed and it did not matter. It was okay because he would let Jun take as long as he needed. As he had with Vidofnir when his lover had passed on. When he finally realized he would never see them again. Knowing in his heart that he would never love anyone like he had loved them ever again.

Eventually Jun lets him go, and Norita folds his wings back up, a spell that did not take much thought rendering them invisible once more.

He reaches out and gently pets Jun’s head. “Do you want to leave the clan with me?”

Jun looks up at him, a half quizzical, half baffled look in his face. “But the kids. I can’t…”

Norita looks over to the clan master’s home, interrupting Jun patiently. “Are men and women grown now. Some even have children of their own now, and their own families to take care of now.”

Jun is silent as he looks on in the distance of the place that had been his home with Naoko and Kuro for nearly two hundred years when they were not leaving for a while on some excursion that Kuro would insist they needed. And then Kuro would turn to Norita to take care of the clan for a little while once they were gone, often to Norita and their mother’s dismay and frustration, on many occasions.

After a long silence, Norita speaks again. “I’m not saying you would have to leave forever. But you will become a shell if you linger, looking in the shadows for ghosts of people who are no longer around.” He lets his hand drop from Jun’s head. 

“Give yourself time away from the clan to mourn him properly. The memories, the emotions will be heavy and painful for a while and you should be allowed to deal with them in your own time. Come with me Jun.” He holds out a hand for his brother, inviting but easily refused if Jun did not wish for it.

The elven beauty looks back to the clan master’s home, then back to Norita. He seemed torn between the decision so suddenly. So instead, Norita drops his hand and smiles warmly. “You need not answer now Jun. Give yourself a week, and I will be waiting here if you choose to come with me.”

A week comes and goes. As Norita lingers in the clan he goes to the site where he and his own lover had spent most of their time together while here. Their own private haven that had been just for them, or so he had once said. The memories here were precious, but also tugged at his heart painfully. It had been some time since they had passed but the wounds were still fresh.

For the rest of the week after that he leaves the clan, returning occasionally to sleep and eat when invited by Jun, Kuro and Naoko’s children to spend time with their uncle once again and he has pleasant conversation with them, enjoying some time among his family and the next generation but he never lingered long, always leaving the clan once again for the outside world.

At the end of the week he approached the gravesite where Kuro now lay, the grass already growing back likely thanks to a little magic from some mages. 

He lays down a bouquet of flowers next to other flowers that had been laid and bows low to the tombstone. “You lived well otouto-san. Rest now. I will take care of the rest.” He speaks softly, his voice little more than a whisper as a breeze blew by, his brother joining him there. No words were needed to know what his decision was.

As the wind blew past it seemed to caress them both, as though Kurotori was saying from far away that it would be okay. And together, they turned and walked away.