Author's Notes: Ahh.. after long last, I finally finished writing this story! This is a for a competition hosted by Luka Aizel in Gaiaonline. I need to make a note here that all the characters I've used in this story is not mine, but Luka's. The competition rules was to write a story about her characters, and I have permission to put my story up here as long as I credit her - you will find her on DeviantArt under the name of Kihoru. The base of the curse in this story (the whole six-dot countdown business) is also her idea and plot for her story, but I have taken it a step further with what it really is and the cure, etc. Also, there is the very slight hint of shonen-ai in this story because of the characters themselves, but I do not exactly intend it as such. It can be read as such, but it's hardly noticable. Anyway, enjoy! Questions welcome.

It was a chilly dawn, Cyril realised, as he opened his eyes slowly to breathe in the fresh air from his half-opened window. Perhaps a bit too chilly for his liking. The elder of the two Aizels sat up and rubbed his neck tiredly, feeling the very familiar ache that was caused by his bending over books at late night to read furiously and study. Cyril wouldn't exactly call it a hobby, but more as a duty - a job, a responsibility. And there was a reason why he was working particularly hard this time, especially since the last two weeks. He had kept the reason away from Luka, but knew silently that the elder sibling was aware of why he was pushing himself so far - only that Luka had much more of an accepting mind than he had. It wasn't hard to notice... except when the older started to dress up and act like him. But Cyril didn't want to think about that.

He got up, feeling the familiar weight of his long hair against his shoulders which, with a smooth move of his hand, he flicked back to more or less clear the view of his neck. He left his bed undone (as the servants would tend to that for him) and made his way to the bathroom. There, he faced himself at the large mirror by the marble sink, and stared at his reflection.

Cyril lowered down the collar of his shirt and immediately, his amber eyes darkened, though his face remained unchanged. If someone was watching him, unless if they hadn't missed the sudden change of colour in his irises, they wouldn't have been able to decipher the anger and perhaps sadness that was overwhelming the younger of the two Aizels. Cyril dropped his hand and gazed at the image in front of him, himself, before he began to nod to himself slowly. Acceptance. He would never be able to accept their fate fully, but it was a painful reminder, and with each reminder, he had always done this. Stared. Nodded. And his lips thinned somewhat.

The fifth dot had appeared.

My older brother, Luka,

Alas.. after all of your kind gestures, your optimism, your want for me to enjoy life as we know it, I regret to say that if you're reading this now, I might have left the world. That is, unless if you're being particularly sneaky and you're raiding through my personal items, which, unfortunately, I can see you doing quite well as it is. But let's hope not. I am plagued with enough grief with your constant carefree mood (not in a bad way, don't get me wrong) and if I lie now on my deathbed, still alive, and find out that you're reading these letters... ah, I do not know how my reaction would be. If you are reading these, Luka, and if I'm still not dead yet, have the decency to put them back in the chest you found them in, blank your mind, and pretend with all your heart that you never saw these letters. Please. I do not want to be... wrongly... I cannot put the words down, it's simply impossible. But, if I am now dead, as I would put it, and you are reading these after finding them as you clear away the contents of my chest, then I shall continue for the sake of that Luka. The Luka who just lost a brother, and is now probably wondering what the hell I am talking about. Forgive me.

You know that all my life, I have dedicated myself in trying to find a cure for the curse that befalls our family, the Aizels. And you know (and often enough scorned at the fact) that I have managed to decipher quite a lot of the old texts from our past ancestors, who decided to record down the happenings in our family in the form of coded books that fills almost half of our library. Well, used to, but never mind about that. I cannot stress to you enough, Luka, how much I want a cure for all this. And if I am dead or dying, I wish that I had found the cure for you and that it's merely too late for myself. Or I had sacrificed myself in order to save you. Anything, in my life, to save you. You are too accepting. You must not give in to that, and you must fight this curse. And I shall help you.

Our curse, my brother, went back since our family even knew what the history was about. There are a lot of theories, myths of some sort even, and - to put it down into words - "legends" on how we managed to get this curse. I shall explain them all to you as I believe even you, my carefree sibling, would not be able to find it in your heart to ignore my last words. So I shall twist it to my advantage and make sure you do know why it's so important to understand our family history.

"The Hexagon", "Six Dots Curse", "Clocks"... these were the sort of names that appeared during my research from the Aizels, the name for what plagues us. I shall call it The Hexagon, as it is my personal favourite out of the many names given, even if it is a circle. The nature of the curse is obvious. At one point during an Aizel's life, if they had not died beforehand, a dot would mysteriously appear at the base of their necks. Whether it would appear at birth, or at the end of their lives, a dot would appear and that dot indicates the time they had before they die. The worst recorded happened to a young woman far before us (in fact, she would be considered as a teenage in this era), where the first dot appeared and the others came an hour afterwards. After discovering the first dot, she only had six more hours to live. The longest time interval between the appearance of the dots ever recorded was two years - in which, after discovery, the person had another twelve years to live. It's strange, but at the moment, I do believe that you would be able to rewrite that part of history, as your dots appear more than every two years. Even if you were affected by it at a pretty young age.

My time is obvious. Mine appears every six months.

Your Brother,
Cyril.

Keeping himself carefully composed, Cyril ventured out of his bedroom and shut the oak wooden door behind him, careful to keep silent. He had just taken his time with a cool shower and was now finely dressed, even though he did not have the slightest desire to go further past the vast lawns of the house in the first place. He had combed his long chestnut hair and it was now tied up tightly, unlike the usual loose knot he usually used. His fringe was swept back to give a clearer view of his handsome, clear cut face. He wore a collared white shirt, and on top of it, what seemed to be a sort of forest green vest and he had a pair of black trousers on as well.

Cyril looked around uninterestedly at his surroundings as he headed downstairs towards the dining hall. The house was ancient, but very well-kept, owned by the Aizels since who-knows-when, and had been renovated, some parts rebuilt, modernised... more or less personalised to suit the Aizels. The marble floor underneath him created the usual 'tap tap tap' sound as his shoes treaded the ground, but he ignored everything - all the paintings, all the furniture, all signs of life. Eventually, he reached the dining hall and he arched one slender eyebrow slightly as he spotted his older brother, Luka, already there with his breakfast. He was grateful that his brother was dressed up in his usual attire today - his usual Luka attire, not his usual Cyril attire. Cyril wouldn't even want to begin a rant about how much the copying annoyed him, even though there was that small spark of pleasure, deep inside.

Luka looked up from his breakfast and grinned at his brother. Cyril immediately caught the normality of his behaviour. The usual sparkle in his eyes, the very faint redness in his cheeks, and the slight twitch in the corner of his eye. That told Cyril one thing: Luka was not aware that the fifth dot had appeared. It wasn't strange for him to forget, as he never paid as much attention to their fate as the younger brother does, but at the same time, Luka should know that Cyril's mark of death appears every six months. One would call Luka thoughtless for his normality with such news, yet Cyril felt oddly relieved. He would not want Luka to behave any different just because he was nearing his death. The only thing he hoped Luka would change was, if he couldn't gain a cure, the older of the two would try in his place.

"Goood morning!" The older of the two said cheerily. "Breakfast, Cyril?" He asked good-humouredly.

Cyril grunted to acknowledge the invitation and looked around the dining room warily, hoping against hope that he wouldn't find another person lurking around in the shadows of their home. But alas, the peace between himself and his brother could only last for so long. Even a blind would sense the other presence coming and know that the day was about to get worse without needing sight to witness the appearance of Cyril's worst nightmare (after his brother), approaching him with that gruff look on his face. A young, male albino under the name of Vaska Amery... though Cyril and Luka never bothered calling him anything else than 'Dare'. Cyril scoffed in spite of himself and sat down opposite his brother, turning his eyes away from the other male and cast his glance onto the table. As usual, the servants prepared far too much a selection, but Cyril wouldn't complain; it's always nice to have a variety. "Breakfast" consisted of the usual organic bacon and eggs, pancakes, waffles, sausages and whatever else that would fall under the category of breakfast food. Choosing his meal half-heartedly (only worrying about what how fast he needed to work after this), Cyril nodded a small thanks to Luka who passed a mug of bubbled cappuccino under his nose and continued to ignore the glare that he could feel at the back of his neck, coming from the direction of Dare who stood behind him.

"Far too little, far too little.." The albino rolled his eyes, scowling at the sight of Cyril's plate. It was exactly like the younger of the Aizels to eat so little. It wasn't as if Cyril never had the appetite. He just never had the time.

Luka looked up from his sausages and grinned slightly. "Come on, he's eating, isn't he? Sit down, join us." He invited pleasantly.

Dare narrowed his eyes but gave in to the invitation, taking the seat beside Luka only because it was easier to glare at Cyril from the front than from the side. "My thanks, Luka." He said absently.

Throughout this, Cyril remained thoughtfully silent. It was too normal a breakfast session to do otherwise. Dare was being his usual cranky self, and Luka was being his usual cheery self. Though Cyril couldn't deny that he sometimes long for a better form of companionship, he still couldn't help but feel very much relieved at the normality of the atmosphere on the day he discovered that he only had six months left to live - less than six months, actually.

My older brother, Luka,

I shall get on with the information I have and spare you from the wandering thoughts lingering in my head at the moment. No doubt, it would just annoy you - perhaps even sadden you - if you only know the amount of dispair I carry around my shoulders thanks to your... oblivious behaviour. Note, dear brother, I do not mean to criticise you. In fact, I am glad that one of us is actually enjoying life without the constant nagging worry about finding a cure. Our ancestors, and myself, have searched for far too long a time in order to cure ourselves or even find out the nature of the curse. Why it befell upon our family and not the family of others. We are very wealthy and the Aizels are famous under a first-class name, but why are we burdened with such a plague? I actually managed to trace back the history of this curse, of our family and the name of the Aizels, and with that, I found the nature of our cure but not yet the actual thing. It is frustrating, as my time is running out quicker with each passing day. But I do it all for you.

Before we came to keep the name "Aizel", our family name was actually Kinsella-Aizelaire. Our roots, from almost-beyond trace, was French, not Russian. But of course, history changes and with that, our name and our roots changed. This story is nothing more than a mere myth (well, actually it is more than a myth as I took myself to believe it out of the many other stories I have discovered) but I truly believe in this path and therefore dedicated myself to it. It is a tale taken back too far, back during the time where magic is practised, and Gods were worshipped as part of daily life - daily routine, and believed within the deepest depths of heart and soul of every person in mankind.

The story started with a man, our ancestor, under the name of Hex (the name is a lot longer than that, but I shall not bore you with the details of his history - you might have been able to see a connection here, between the name, the curse and the title of "Hexagon" for a six-sided polygon). Legend, or the story, tells the tale on how be fell in love with a Russian woman, Karina, and how he married her hurriedly because of her beautiful looks. Her golden-brown hair, the sharp nose, thick eyelashes; the family trait of the Aizels, if you would so please. Anyhow. Karina was destined by the Gods to be married to another man, and before she wed Hex, she was actually already engaged, ready to be married. But Karina did not love this other man but instead loved Hex and there was a banquet when the beautiful day arrived. Somehow, the man she should have married managed to slip in and join them as a servant during the whole ceremony. I can only imagine how wealthy Hex and Karina really is, as people usually do not have many servants at such an era, and it would have been hard to therefore disguise themselves. This man then skillfully approached her glass and poured in a sort of liquid inside. A liquid that would send her body into spasms of pain, only for a moment, but a moment was enough.

The curse was born from there.

From this, I believe that this curse is more genetic than magical. I believe that there is a scientific approach to the whole thing, hence my profession. But even as I searched, I could not see what it was that differs us from the others. Could all this, perhaps, be magical after all? I wish I could answer that question and I wished harder still that I would be able to find the cure. You, of course, would know this dream of mine better than anyone else. For I want it more than life itself.

Your brother,
Cyril.

To both Dare and Cyril, the silence was cold, almost impenetrable, but it was nothing new. As if his colourless eyes managed to give him a new power of keeping his eyes on two places at once, Dare glared at Cyril while at the same time, managing to finish all of his breakfast without any needs to throw away leftovers from his plate. Luka cheerfully ignored their silence and rattled on about what he had planned for the day - why he was in his usual attire and was not disguised as his younger brother. It was one of the rare times that he actually managed to plan something, and the excitement was plain in his voice. Cyril, from time to time, nodded and murmured a few words under his breath to acknowledge his older brother's tale, but most of the time, he was only silent. Whenever he nodded or spoke quietly, Dare would scowl deeper and sometimes, in a louder tone, scold Cyril to speak up, or that he was interrupting and was being rude. When Cyril fell silent, the gambler rolled his eyes and said that it was hardly polite to ignore Luka.

All the time, both Aizels ignored the Russian gambler. In Luka's case, he merely ignored Dare to get on with his story and knew at least that both were listening to him. And he was especially happy that his younger brother was taking interest. Or seemed to be taking interest, at least. Cyril, however, ignored Dare as he usually does. He finished his breakfast swiftly and cleanly and his fork then clattered against his plate slightly, which made Dare huff yet again. It was more than enough for Cyril. He stood.

"If you need me, I will be in the library." He said dismissively.

"Oh, but Cyril, you must take a break." Luka pouted slightly to hide his disappointment. "Come on." He said, brightening up considerably. "Why won't we have a walk outside. Some exercise, and fresh air, will do you some good. Perhaps we could go round and see what's happening in the world." He suggested.

Cyril raised an eyebrow at him. "The walk to the library is far enough. I'll open the windows for fresh air, and the maids would have set my newspapers on the table." He said bluntly. He was completely missing the point.

Luka stared at him with an unreadable expression on his face. He shook his head and laughed cheerfully to himself, nodding to his younger brother. "Ah, I shall not be defeated so easily next time, Cyril. Go ahead then. But once you come down for lunch, I will make you go outside." He said smugly. The look his brother gave him shortly after that nearly made Luka fall. "You're not having lunch? ...Fine." He sighed.

"What's the matter with you?! It's not as if you're going to drop dead this moment." Dare burst out, also standing - though in a less graceful manner. He fixed a hard stare on Cyril, silently grateful that colourless eyes meant that it would be harder to read the deeper depths of emotion that was lingering in those irises. He only got a blank stare from Cyril. "Well?" Dare prompted.

Cyril kept quiet and, without a word, turned and walked away. Frustrated, Dare slammed his back against the chair again and his face twisted in annoyance. Luka watched his brother leave, a small hint of a smile on his face.

"Well, that went well enough." The older one said cheerfully. He started on his half-eaten breakfast again.

Dare considered keeping his mouth shut, but after pondering his thoughts for a moment, he turned his gaze to Luka again. "He's still not giving up, is he?" He asked, knowing that the answer was obvious. "I can't believe how different you two are." He scowled. "One would expect that either both of you accepts it, or both of you fight for your lives."

Luka grinned. "Well, Cyril actually has admitted it to himself, about our lives. He just won't accept that I'll face the same fate. He got the first mark quite a while before I got mine. At the time, we both suspected that I might have escaped without the curse. There are one or two recorded instances where a few Aizels escaped. But whether it's because theirs were awfully late that they died first, or whether they really didn't have it - that we don't know. That was what Cyril told me anyway, a few years ago."

"Any connections between those family members?" Dare couldn't help but ask. Hey, he could make conversation if he wanted to.

The other shook his head. "Apart from the fact that they all grew old and died? Nothing. I don't think it matters much. All living things die, and that's the end to it." He shrugged, taking another bite of his waffle. "Besides - I'm glad I know when I'm going to die. It gives me the chance to do everything I want." He said honestly, the cheerfulness back in his voice.

The corner of Dare's mouth twitched somewhat and he leaned back, staring at the ceiling, concentrating hard enough to try and allow his gaze to see through the stone walls, up to where he knew the library was located. It was sad that Cyril did not share the same thoughts as the older brother. But then again, in a way, he knew that Cyril was doing everything he wanted at the moment. He only wanted to ensure his brother's life remained intact.

"I wonder how long he has left..." The question escaped his lips without him noticing, quiet and thoughtful.

Luka looked up from his breakfast and arched an eyebrow. "Who, you mean Cyril?"

Surprised, Dare's head jerked to look at the Aizel before him. "Yeah." He said after a pause. No use denying it now.

The older brother shrugged and a smile formed on his lips. "He still has time. He's got six months left. Six months today."

My older brother, Luka,

I have enclosed with me a log of my.. progress... in searching for the clue to the curse. I hesitate to call it progress because I have not yet found the cure for the curse itself, and that drives me somewhat insane - more so than I would admit out loud to you, my dear brother. I have tried different approaches in order to find a cure, perhaps too much, but with such a methodical manner that it would make any scientist proud. After spending so many years researching about our history, the myths and then probable lanes down to cures, I am now stuck in a position where I must pick one at random and go with it, for I can no longer pursue every path given to me. My time is running out, and searching for this cure is like opening Pandora's Box. It is a terrible thing.

I have searched here and there, and am now presented with only three possible explanations. One, which was the one I was working on until very recently, was through genetics. The dots are there and nothing else. If anything, it's as if the pigment darkened and there is nothing else to it. Oh, as heartless as this may sound, I so dearly wish that I had a fresh Aizel body to work with, one who just experienced the death. It would make my researching so much easier, but I am not granted such a thing. We all keep a very detailed family chart and we are perhaps the last of the Aizels left, so unless if you wish to use my body to continue my studies, which I give you permission for... I cannot see how I would be granted such a thing.

The second possibility is the magical world. Alas, I took the wrong career to pursue this path, but it does hold a few elements of truth, even though magic does sound like a myth and nothing else. It would definitely explain more than where science is concerned. The third possibility, mainly, is if the former two does not solve the question. To pursue the third path, I would need to have more than an open mind. I would need to delve in the many possibilities there are in finding this mysterious cure.

My dear brother, am I wrong to feel as if I shall never get there? Though these letters are supposed to reach you after I die, I still wish to discuss my thoughts and feelings to you, even in death. I feel obliged to do so, and more than that, I want to do this. I want my brother to know my mind, even though I'm pretty sure that, Luka, you already do. You above all people would know my mind and perhaps even the way I think, but you never made me aware of this. Not at all. As an older brother, you have not failed. You are more an older brother to me than I am a younger brother, in a way that is very hard to explain and can only be understood at heart. I just wish you to know that even though I might have given the impression of it, I do know the things you do. And I appreciate it.

Your brother,
Cyril.

"It is a tragedy." Cyril's voice rang out clearly, echoing slightly in the library as he read aloud the piece of an old diary he had discovered a few days ago. His eyes darkened somewhat at the opening of the entry but he shook his head slightly and composed himself again, continuing to read; "One by one, we all drop dead and I now truly believe that we shall be cursed forever. I do not know what would be the wiser decision - whether we stop having families and end this curse, or we live up to it and do whatever we can to fight the curse. My brother, Araise, seemed to have gotten somewhere with his search, but he is more a philosopher than he is a researcher. The way he sees it-"

Cyril's small narration was cut off when Dare's sudden roar from downstairs made him pause to listen, somewhat curiously. He looked up from his reading material and could just make out the sound of the gambler slamming the front door of the mansion and silently, he wondered if Luka had said something to upset the grumpy guy. It was pretty impressive that he could hear that door slamming. The library was quite a hefty walk from the front door. Cyril found it to be hardly believable that Luka would be able to say anything to upset the albino. He could succeed a wave of frustration and temper from Dare with as simple an act as blinking, but Luka? What could Luka say to provoke Dare like that?

All this thinking only lasted a few short seconds for Cyril. Though part of him was obviously curious, the other just couldn't care less and without wasting another moment, he picked the diary back up again and scanned through the lines carefully before finding where he had left off; "The way he sees it, the curse is one of acceptance. All living creatures will eventually die and to him, the Kinsella-Aizellaires were lucky to know when their lives would depart from their body, as that means that they would be able to say everything they needed to say, and the family itself would be more than prepared to accept the loss. Araise saw this curse as a blessing, and noted that the only reason why it was called a curse was because of how the family wanted to escape it. Escape death.

"Death comes with life, and with death, comes acceptance. My brother Araise saw it as a blessing that we could be offered such generosity. That we are able to do what we need to do and experience what is good for us. Love, most definitely, falls into this category." Cyril paused and raised an eyebrow. That was a topic he rarely ventured through, and never thought about at all. He sniffed slightly and continued reading; "What this Hexagon teaches us more than anything else is the value of life itself and how love plays its part. To those people who never knew the time of their deaths, they acted as if the day would never come. And in turn, the ones who love them would act as if the day would never come. Death, instead of being something pure and unavoidable - something that people should acknowledge will come and would therefore love others as if it could come at any time - was considered as some sort of curse.

"As my brother followed this line of thinking, he firmly believed that this Hexagon, this curse, was only a curse to those who sees it as a curse. He believed that if from the start, we Kinsella-Aizellaires fear death and believe that death could be avoided, then when the time that dot appears, the time interval between them would reflect our emotions to death. Those who fear it would have a shorter time span, and those who did not would have a longer life. Death is not something that can be cured, therefore, the cure should never be searched for. This curse is merely a visible countdown in our lives. We will have a specific date as to when we die, but normal humans do not know it. It is us, the Kinsella-Aizellaires, who does."

Cyril placed the book down and crossed over to where he had kept a copy of their family tree. Seeing that the sheet was so incredibly huge, the young Aizel walked over to the spare table and laid the paper out flat on the surface, searching for the name. It took him a while, but he knew that he would need to start at the very top, seeing that the man's surname was still 'Kinsella-Aizellaire' at the time. The further up he went, the more names there were to scan and he had to be careful not to step on the remaining sheet that had gone down to his feet because of the incredible length.

Finally, Cyril found the name: Araise Lev Kinsella-Aizellaire. Under the name, there were three dates. The birth date, the date the first dot appeared, and the date of death. Beside the second date, in brackets, it was written how long the time interval between the dots were. Cyril read it carefully and was somewhat struck when he saw that Araise's dot appeared once every two years. It was him - the one, before Luka, who had longest to live once the dot appeared.

"Cyril!" Luka's cheerful voice woke the younger brother up from his trance. "Come now, come downstairs and have lunch with me. The servants have prepared something special for us." He said cheerfully. To Luka, everything was special.

The younger brother looked up and Luka realised that his eyes were dark - almost black even. Had he chosen the wrong time to bother his brother? He honestly wouldn't care if that meant that Cyril was in a bad mood. He wanted to have lunch and that was that. Luka actually chuckled slightly at the thought.

Cyril's eyes narrowed slightly. "I'm not having lunch." He said as-a-matter-of-factly.

"Of course you're not. Now come on!" Luka insisted. He walked around Cyril's table and glanced down at the piles of paper, parchment and books scattered across the long mahogany furniture. Clearly, Cyril was getting worked up about all this curse business. He was usually a lot more tidier than what the table looked like now. Luka's face twisted slightly in concern and amusement and his eyes trailed down at the book that was resting on top of the rest, still opened. "What are you reading?" He asked, picking it up and scanning it carefully.

Cyril sighed, defeated. "A book." He said bluntly.

"Is it interesting?"

"It's frustrating."

"Why?"

Cyril kept silent. It would take too much time to explain. Instead, he left Luka reading beside his shoulder and picked up another sheet of paper. Seeing this action from the corner of his eye, Luka laughed and grabbed his younger brother by the arm. "Oh no you're not. You're having lunch with me. Come, let's bring this book with us." He said, tugging lightly. Cyril, evidently, wasn't about to move and so, Luka pulled harder until the younger of the two brothers were forced on his feet.

"Luka -"

"I'm not taking no for an answer. You're having lunch. And I'm taking interest in this book, so isn't that good?" He said gleefully, as he walked out of the library, one hand still holding the book which was pressed close to his nose while the other hand kept a firm grip on his brother's arm.

Cyril glared at him. "Of course you're taking interest in that. No other book suggests that we forget about the curse." He said icily.

"It's not asking us to forget! It's giving an answer. A probable answer." Luka answered cheerfully. So, Cyril was finally looking at items that suggests something different? Luka was clearly pleased about that and if possible, his face shone even more with delight.

"It's not an answer. It's an excuse to accept our fates." Cyril answered, his jaw set.

"All answers are excuses." Luka pointed out. "Especially if it's a question where nobody can say is right or not."

They headed downstairs and Cyril couldn't help but give a low sigh of defeat and annoyance. His brother was being impossible. They seemed to walk for ages and finally, when they reached the dining table, Cyril couldn't help but be somewhat impressed with the dishes that were available for lunch. He sat down opposite his brother, who now fell silent, but Cyril knew it was only until he had his plate filled up. He huffed slightly. "You could always ask Dare to join you." He said.

Luka grinned. "Dare's angry. I don't think he'll return just yet. Maybe he will at dinner though." He said lightly.

"What happened?" Cyril asked uninterestedly.

"Oh, you know." Luka shrugged the question off. "And you. Stop cooping yourself up in that room already. You found this book, you've seen what it says, and it makes sense, doesn't it?" He asked, opening the page again. He began to read aloud but Cyril silenced him with a wave of his hand. "What?" Luka shot back.

"If you're going to tell me to give this up and still want to have lunch with me - perhaps you might want to rethink your words." Cyril answered. His words were cold but there was a hint of a smile on his lips.

Luka was delighted, but only his eyes betrayed this emotion. His lips curled up to a half-smile and he looked at the younger brother tenderly, somewhat glad that Cyril was busy eyeing the amount of food the servants were putting on his plate. Once they departed, the tender look was gone, but Cyril still didn't look up from his plate. Because of that, the younger brother could only hear the emotion in Luka's voice - when he glanced up, he was too late to see his brother's expression when he said;

"I didn't want to have lunch with you purely to talk about this. I wanted it because it's still a special day, even if you see it as cursed."

My dearest brother, Luka,

I have, in a way, given up on this search. I have not lost the motivation for it, of course I have not. But I believed that after so long, so many roads I have taken and so very, very little time left to spend left, I realised that the one who found the 'cure' for this curse was you all along. It is within our very nature, and you, above all else, knew what the Hexagon was about. Whether you really knew the meaning of it and how to avoid it, or whether it was luck on your side because of your personality, that I cannot tell. But what I consider to be the best of all was that I found the cure to this curse, but that the cure already exists within you, my dearest brother.

I honestly wish that when you are reading these letters, I would have departed from this world. It would annoy me so if I am still alive at this time. This will be my last letter to you, as I have nothing else that I need to say. The nature of the curse, the history, my journey and finally, here, the closure of it all. These letters did not turn out as how I wanted them to be, but I also do not have the heart to rewrite everything during the course of my research. I shall let you read them as they are, and let you guess when exactly I have written those. Some letters were dated a few short years ago. Some were dated within this week. And I hope by the end of this, you will come to realise that I do wish to share myself with you, for I am pathetic with emotions, many thanks to the way I have driven my life.

I do not regret a single moment of it.

Do not get me wrong, Luka, it is not as if I do not resent the fact that we never managed to lead ordinary lives as brothers. I have not, at the very least. But I am glad that my life was led like this because of dedication to save our lives, your life especially. I have taken a great deal of comfort in knowing that whatever happens, you will be safe. Not from death itself, but from an early one. You, like Araise Kinsella-Aizellaire, would lead a life of acceptance. I wonder, really, why I even bother with these letters. It's not as if you don't know this already, and at most, I truly believe that you are chuckling under your breath as you read this, trying to imagine my expression as I am writing these letters. I could see it very clearly. You who never take anything seriously, much to my dismay.

It will not be long now until you may read these letters, Luka. And meet the brother that you have once known - the innocent brother who never knew about the curse. I was never lost, I merely changed. But I hope that I have pleased you with these letters.

Your brother,
Cyril.

"Still not asleep yet?" Luka poked his head into the door of the library and smiled at his brother. The sight that met his eyes, however, made him blink twice before entering the room. The mahogany desk, the oak bookshelves - the whole room in general was amazingly tidy. Books that Cyril was looking through earlier, as well as the papers that were scattered on the desk and floors, were nowhere to be seen. This was strange. The servants had given up cleaning the library because of the way they were scolded by Cyril whenever things were too tidy for him to work with quickly. And according to one of them earlier, Cyril was supposed to be in the library still.

Even though the room was large, Luka did not need to do a thorough search to realise that there was nobody inside. And, having just come out of Cyril's bedroom earlier to steal a few of his clothes so he could disguise as his younger brother tomorrow , Luka knew that he wouldn't be asleep. He could search the whole mansion, which would take him a few short hours, but Luka was sure that where ever he was, Cyril was definitely not in the house.

"So what brought you out here in the middle of the night?" The voice was harsh, unpleasant as usual, and Cyril couldn't help but give out his usual sigh of annoyance. "Well? You come in here to have a drink and you still want to be mute?" The voice asked again.

Cyril's lips twitched slightly and he shook his head. "I only came to drink." He said flatly.

Amber eyes turned from his half-filled glass to gaze into the face of the one and only albino man he associated himself with - the only albino he knew. Dare. He moved his stare to look into Dare's colourless eyes except for the right eye which was purple because of a contact that he wore. Dare flinched slightly under the stare, but it was hardly visible and he could only somewhat hope that Cyril had not noticed it. Sure, Dare knew that he always had a temper with Cyril, but that was only because of who Cyril was. Who Cyril was to... no, he should not go that far. Dare shook his head, somewhat disgusted, and knowing that this act might have betrayed his thoughts and emotions, he turned to look back at Cyril with a glare to mask what he had done.

"No drink's a drink without a word or two." He remarked. "Where have you left Luka?"

"At the dining table, last time I saw him. I did not leave anything except for my own house." Cyril answered.

Dare was near exploding. Must Cyril be so formal and cutting at the same time? His bluntness in his honest answers were enough to drive anyone insane within the few moments of talking to him. "So what are you doing out here then? Have you.. given up? Taken a break? Found the cure?" He tried to guess, though his voice came out as a lazy drawl. Usually, Dare would have lowered his voice, as this was the Aizel's personal business, but with the noise inside the bar, he did not bother. Nobody would take interest anyhow.

"I did not give up. This is not a break. Yes, I found the cure." The younger of the Aizels answered smoothly.

The other's eyes widened in shock, forgetting all hopes of being nasty. "You found the cure?"

"Yes."

"Have you used it?"

"Yes."

"So... you will not...?"

"I have six months left to live. Six months exactly." Cyril answered smugly.

Dare felt as if Cyril had just slapped him across the face. What was wrong with this guy? "You said -"

"I have found the cure."

"What was the cure then?"

"Acceptance. To forget about it all. It's too late for me, however." Cyril's reply was calm. He took his glass and began to drink, savouring the taste even though his house could probably provide better. Cyril's mouth twisted slightly at the taste and he set the glass down, now half-empty. He kept his eyes away from looking at the gambler, finding interest with the conversation around him instead. The constant buzz of people talking.

Unlike Cyril who looked so calm, Dare was still in slight shock. It wasn't like Cyril to accept something so easily, especially something like that. What had happened? Before he could voice his question, the younger of the Aizels stood up and started towards the door, leaving his glass behind with more than enough payment for it slipped underneath. Dare eyed the money for a moment. Cyril had paid enough for him to leave his own glasses behind. So that was what he did.

"Hey, you. Where do you think you're going?" Dare called to Cyril once they were outside. There was no point in asking when they were still in there - it was too busy.

Cyril stopped in his tracks. "Home."

"It's not like you to give up so easily, is it?" The tone in Dare's voice showed his disapproval. And annoyance. A lot of annoyance.

"I haven't given up. I found the cure." Cyril answered, not bothering to turn. His chestnut hair covered his eyes slightly as he bowed his head, beginning to walk again. His driver was waiting, but he decided to ignore the ride.

"But it's..." Dare trailed off. Cyril stopped for a second, wondering if the gambler was going to say any more. But he clearly had decided against it.

"Goodbye for now."

He was allowed inside by one of the many servants and as soon as he stepped into the hallway, he saw Luka standing, waiting, his back against the banister of one of the stairways leading up. Luka's eyes were closed and as Cyril scrutinised his brother, he realised that the older one was perhaps sleeping. His breathing was slow and regular, the look on his face was as happy and peaceful as ever, but even if Luka was awake, he did not make any indication that he heard Cyril coming inside. Clearly, he had also asked the servants to leave him standing there, as a few who passed did not make any attempt to wake their master and offer him a better suited place to nap. Cyril rolled his eyes.

Approaching his brother, the younger of the two nudged the elbow of the other gently enough not to make him topple over, but strong enough that Luka opened his eyes. His amber stare was blank at first, and then it shone with the usual happiness. "Hey, you're back!" Luka pointed out the obvious, the grin back on his face. He pushed his oval glasses back with his ring finger (a habit he picked up from his younger brother) and he stood up straight.

"What are you doing?" Cyril asked. The look on his face showed that he wasn't pleased at all that his older brother was waiting for him.

"I was wondering where you went." Luka answered. "Come on, let's head upstairs." He said enthusiastically, despite the fact that it was way past midnight already.

The two Aizels climbed up the spiral staircase and once they reached the landing, Cyril was somewhat surprised that Luka took the corridor to the left, towards the library. What could his older brother want to do there? Even Cyril had told himself that he had spend too much time of his life in there. But he followed anyhow, believing that Luka must have more than just a reason to be waiting for him like that. It wasn't unusual for Cyril to suddenly disappear and reappear. And as he stepped inside the library, he collapsed onto the armchair and fixed a hard stare on his brother, curious to know what exactly he had planned.

"So. Where did you go?" Luka asked. Surely his brother had something else than to spark a normal conversation at this time of the night?

"The casino. But I stayed at the bar."

"Did you see Dare?"

"Yes."

"Is he still angry from where he left off today? He was furious earlier." His voice was too cheerful to suit the statement.

"...No."

"No?"

"No. In fact, I can go as far as saying that he was pretty civil." Cyril responded. Luka laughed. Cyril shifted himself so he was more comfortable and turned his eyes back to his brother. "Why are we here?" He finally asked, after a moment silence.

Luka looked at him for a while before smiling again. He walked over to the table (that, over the years, had now become Cyril's) and opened the drawer. Cyril looked at him with bored eyes until a loud sound of a bundle of papers slapped itself against the marble flooring. He looked. He cursed.

It was his letters.

"What's all that about?" Luka asked, nodding to the bundle. He could barely hide his glee that he felt as if he had outsmarted his brother. The look on his brother's face was unreadable, but his eyes had turned black again to show his fury. Luka could also make out that very small colour on his cheeks which made him all the more happier. It took his all to contain his laughter. "Come on, Cyril." He prompted.

Cyril looked to the letters, to Luka's face, and back to the letters. He placed a palm on his forehead covering his eyes but he couldn't hide the smile that appeared on his lips. "Ah, I should have known that life would be this way." He said softly. "I feel sorry for myself at times."

Luka crossed over to his brother and sat down. "Thanks, Cyril. No, really, I'm not - trying to be funny." He said, managing terribly as he couldn't stop his laugh. "I really, really am grateful that you have decided to settle with all this. You have, haven't you?" Luka asked cautiously. The laugh and spark disappeared from his eyes as he regarded Cyril carefully.

"I have." Cyril admitted. "You have been trying to tell me all along to stop this search for a cure does not exist. Yet I never listened."

"Ah, that's true." The smile was back. "You're as stubborn as a mule."

"You're as curious as a cat."

"So we all belong to the animal kingdom."

Cyril shook his head with a sigh. "So you have read them all?"

"Yes."

"In that case, we have no more to discuss until my death."

Luka looked crestfallen. "You can't be serious! You can't just write it down and stay mute for the rest of your life." He said it as if Cyril had years left instead of just six months. "We have much to discuss!" He insisted.

"You know it all." Cyril pointed out, turning to look at him.

"But some things are better said aloud." Luka said quietly.

"What do you want me to say out loud, then?"

"What you haven't written. You have never managed to show any sort of human emotion to anyone, so come on."

Cyril arched an eyebrow. He sighed. "You wish to hear it?"

"Yes."

"Are you alright?" Dare asked Luka the morning after Cyril's death, six months later. The older brother was sat on the table, chewing his breakfast thoughtfully with the sparkle still there in his eyes. He looked fine, as he usually was, without the slightest hint of grief or sadness in his face. Dare merely asked for confirmation, and - for once - politeness.

Luka looked at him and nodded with a cheery smile. "Of course. Sit down, have some breakfast with me." He said happily. He looked at Dare closer and raised his eyebrows. "Are you alright?"

"Managing." Dare responded. "I never got to tell him."

"Yeah, well, you had your chance, you threw it away. Don't regret it." Luka answered, ducking a cherry that was thrown at his direction. "I'm only saying the truth!" He laughed.

The albino glared at him, but knew that his words ring true. He wasn't regretting it. "What about you?"

"What about me?"

"Did you manage to say everything you want to him?" He couldn't help but wonder if someone like Luka would have anything to say to a dying man.

Luka looked at him with an odd stare. "I got what I wanted." He said eventually.

"It is you that I cared for most, Luka. You know that. When one is selfish for themselves, you can always snap them back into reality to change their minds. But when they're selfish for someone else, you can well say that it's a hopeless case. Like myself, in this instance. All I wanted was for you to live a normal life, without worry in your mind about the curse that befalls us, but what I did not realise until now was that it was only me who was worrying. You never did. That dot meant nothing for you, just as how death was often forgotten by the majority of society. I was not foolish to take this path, I know I was not. I had received the answer I wanted, and more than that, I got the cure I needed. Though I wish to say that I am the smarter out of us two, it does not matter much longer. This curse has outsmarted me but at least I wasn't proved wrong. You are my brother, Luka, for that, I am glad."

"Thank you!"

"You're welcome. Now leave me alone and don't expect me to talk like that again."