Memories of a lonely night
By Misao's angel
The silver shimmer of the moon barely gave enough light to see the ground
ahead. But it didn't matter. His cat-like eyes had been accustomed to the
darkness many times, for he was the assassin of the shadows. As he slowly
walked through the trees, he felt cold drops of water fall upon his
hands. The temperature had begun to sink, and the air became crisper. Not
that he could feel it though. His body had grown numb to all pain. All he
could feel was something hard resting in the back of his throat, making
it hard to swallow. He could also feel the water drip down his face. But
those small drops of water didn't come from the rain.
"Tomoe..." he managed to choke, as he held the lavender cloth closer to his
chest.
His sight became blurred as continued to walk through the forest. Not
daring to turn back. Not daring to see the burning building that held his
last memories of his love. The love she returned, and the love he did not
deserve. She was the one who should walk this earth with a smile upon her
beautiful and gentle face. And he should've had his body destroyed, to
have his chest torn open with the same weapon he used to kill so many
people. He had no right to be given another chance. Not after what he did
to her. For every second he ever spent with her ment more to him than the
rest of his life. Her eyes told so many stories... of the terrible pain of
losing your love. The pain HE gave her, and the pain she returned to him
only six months after. Yet she was still willing to love him, care for
him, and even die for him, even though it hurt her. He had been traveling
like this for three days.
He continued to wander through what seemed like a never-ending forest.
The dim light of the moon managed to peek through the holes in between
the leaves on the trees above him, so he could see hints of the clearing
that lay ahead. As he stumbled over twigs, leaves, and even the tinniest
crevasses in the soil, he held on to the neighboring trees for support.
Tripping over a root, he barely managed to catch himself this time.
Suddenly he felt the moonlight shine a lot brighter on his face. That
could only mean one thing, that he had reached it... the clearing. He
looked up, for the first time since he left Otsu, and laid his eyes upon
the stones and twigs that were ment to pass as gravestones. The
gravestones that he made himself. The gravestones he hadn't seen since he
was a small child. And the gravestones that mad him the killer he was
today. Everything started here. He found the perfect area to get to work.
He had no remains of his loved one; all he had was her tanto and her
violet haori. He placed his trembling hands into the soil, and dug into
the rock and mud until his hands bled. When he found the hole deep
enough, he placed the tanto into it, and then he reached for the haori.
No he couldn't say goodbye to that just yet. With the pain that filled
his heart, he held the purple cloth closer to his chest and cried until
the sun had rose.
He could have spent the rest of his life there, holding the cloth of
white plum to his chest and thinking of his diseased love, but his
promise to her was the only thing that kept him mentally alive. He had to
atone for all the people he killed. For all the pain he caused, all the
grief and sadness he had created with his hands. His own hands... Once the
bakumatsu ends, he would never kill again. Not for anything. But, before
then, please let her forgive him for the slaughter of men that would make
his promise possible. Just a little but longer. Just a little longer, and
he will never endanger a life again. He laid down the beloved haori, gave
it one last hug, and tied it to the gravestone in which his memories
rested.
It was then that the Hitokiri Battousai returned to the battlefield,
hoping never to return again.
Owari!
By Misao's angel
The silver shimmer of the moon barely gave enough light to see the ground
ahead. But it didn't matter. His cat-like eyes had been accustomed to the
darkness many times, for he was the assassin of the shadows. As he slowly
walked through the trees, he felt cold drops of water fall upon his
hands. The temperature had begun to sink, and the air became crisper. Not
that he could feel it though. His body had grown numb to all pain. All he
could feel was something hard resting in the back of his throat, making
it hard to swallow. He could also feel the water drip down his face. But
those small drops of water didn't come from the rain.
"Tomoe..." he managed to choke, as he held the lavender cloth closer to his
chest.
His sight became blurred as continued to walk through the forest. Not
daring to turn back. Not daring to see the burning building that held his
last memories of his love. The love she returned, and the love he did not
deserve. She was the one who should walk this earth with a smile upon her
beautiful and gentle face. And he should've had his body destroyed, to
have his chest torn open with the same weapon he used to kill so many
people. He had no right to be given another chance. Not after what he did
to her. For every second he ever spent with her ment more to him than the
rest of his life. Her eyes told so many stories... of the terrible pain of
losing your love. The pain HE gave her, and the pain she returned to him
only six months after. Yet she was still willing to love him, care for
him, and even die for him, even though it hurt her. He had been traveling
like this for three days.
He continued to wander through what seemed like a never-ending forest.
The dim light of the moon managed to peek through the holes in between
the leaves on the trees above him, so he could see hints of the clearing
that lay ahead. As he stumbled over twigs, leaves, and even the tinniest
crevasses in the soil, he held on to the neighboring trees for support.
Tripping over a root, he barely managed to catch himself this time.
Suddenly he felt the moonlight shine a lot brighter on his face. That
could only mean one thing, that he had reached it... the clearing. He
looked up, for the first time since he left Otsu, and laid his eyes upon
the stones and twigs that were ment to pass as gravestones. The
gravestones that he made himself. The gravestones he hadn't seen since he
was a small child. And the gravestones that mad him the killer he was
today. Everything started here. He found the perfect area to get to work.
He had no remains of his loved one; all he had was her tanto and her
violet haori. He placed his trembling hands into the soil, and dug into
the rock and mud until his hands bled. When he found the hole deep
enough, he placed the tanto into it, and then he reached for the haori.
No he couldn't say goodbye to that just yet. With the pain that filled
his heart, he held the purple cloth closer to his chest and cried until
the sun had rose.
He could have spent the rest of his life there, holding the cloth of
white plum to his chest and thinking of his diseased love, but his
promise to her was the only thing that kept him mentally alive. He had to
atone for all the people he killed. For all the pain he caused, all the
grief and sadness he had created with his hands. His own hands... Once the
bakumatsu ends, he would never kill again. Not for anything. But, before
then, please let her forgive him for the slaughter of men that would make
his promise possible. Just a little but longer. Just a little longer, and
he will never endanger a life again. He laid down the beloved haori, gave
it one last hug, and tied it to the gravestone in which his memories
rested.
It was then that the Hitokiri Battousai returned to the battlefield,
hoping never to return again.
Owari!
