DESCRIPTION: This really, super-short story is told from Miluda's point of view. I don't know why, but my FFT fics are always depressing. Sigh.

An hour until departure.

I knocked upon Izlude's door and waited. My hand unconsciously moved to smooth out the tangles in my hair, and I stopped myself. Embarrassing, feeling so self-conscious around a best friend of ten years.

"Miluda?" The door opened, and Izlude's handsome face peeked out. Lately, he's been becoming more and more good-looking. Dark brown locks, sharp, dark eyes, an altogether cold sophistication. I feel myself blush, and look down to hide it.

"Just wanted to see you before leaving." I told him, shaking away the blush and looking at him in the eyes. "Looks like I won't be returning for a while." I'll miss you, I added inside.

"To the Igros, was it? Be careful with the Hokutens."

Izlude's expression turned serious and worried. He's always like this, caring and sensitive to the point of naiveness. I love him for that weakness; he haven't changed much since we first met in Goug. A dazzling combination of eery maturity and underlying naivete. One would never expect it from a fearsome Knight Blade.

"I know. But don't worry about me, Izlude. I'll be fine." I smiled at him. It was time to go already. Drawing closer, I pecked him on a cheek, and received one from him in return. "I'll return with Wiegraf, in a month or so. You be careful, too, all right?"

"I'll miss you, Miluda. Tell Wiegraf that I said to take care."

I feel warm from his sincere words; right then, I made up my mind to tell him how I felt about him when I returned. Tell him that I see him as more than a best friend. That I care for him. How will you answer, Izlude? I'll find out in a month's time.

"Sure." I turned away, wanting to linger around but unable to do so. I won't be feeling this sweet for next four weeks; there were aristocrats to kill.

I widened my eyes at the pain, and looked down slowly to find a bloody blade penetrating my chest. My blood. Ramza Beoulve's sword. I stared at the blond aristocrat, who gazed back with strangely hollow, sad eyes.

Why are you looking at me like that? You are victorious. The sword slipped out of my weakening grip. The battle was over.

He pulled the weapon out of me, causing another drag of agony and more blood to spurt out. I felt sick; something surged up my throat and poured out of my parted lips like a flood. Can't speak, can't breath.

I was dying. I thought of Wiegraf, and tried to call out to him, but the thick liquid got in the way of my voice. My knees buckled, causing me to fall forward without any reflex. The ground was hard, despite its muddiness after the short rain.

"W-Wiegraf..." Coughing out the obstructing blood, I managed to whisper my brother's name. I don't want to die. I haven't changed the world, I haven't done anything. I haven't said anything to Izlude... Yes, Izlude. I promised him that I will return in a month. I lied to him.

"I-... I...z..." Izlude will grieve when he hears of my death. I hated myself for causing him sorrow. I'm sorry. Pain was subsiding, replaced by coldness creeping up from the sole of my feet. I felt cold, cold... then, dark. It was like being pulled into the oblivion.

Wiegraf, Meliadoul, Izlude... A flash of our childhood burned in my mind, and fizzed out as Death claimed me.

I'm sorry for the shortness and simplicity of this fic. I just had to get this idea out of my head... Well, if you have any response, please send it to littlemaiko.