Okay, you gaiz, I have something very important to ask you. Should I delete Ryoma's 6 Fiances and in exchange, start writing this one? Or should I keep that one and let it have its own separate plot and continue writing it while I write this one?
Anyway, yes, I have come up with a new Fiancé story! :D It's something that popped into my head while I was washing my hands and I couldn't get it out of my head.
Full Summary:
Even roses have parts of them that they are ashamed of and wish they do not have, despite their beauteous outer appearance. It doesn't conceal what is inside a distorted place of thorns and pain. In a way, roses resemble bittersweet chocolate, having the traits of both good and bad. But good and bad are merely labels. Labels won't be the ones to tell this beautiful rose, Echizen Ryoma, what to do or how to bloom in this utterly disgusting and filthy world of society that doesn't accept everyone. In the midst of all the chaos, she must piece together the clues she has chanced upon and find her fiancé… in an all-boy's school.
Disclaimer: Prince of Tennis is not mine and I do not gain any fame, money, or other forms of wealth from this piece.
The quotes that will be used are included in that disclaimer.
I have my own little world. But it's okay; they know me here.
~Author unknown.
Hydrangea - symbolizes heartfelt emotions. gratitude for being understood. yet; frigidity and heartlessness.
When she was but a mere bud, delicate and awaiting the arrival of Spring, she was touched by the summer dew. Her grandly sculptured petals gently unfurled themselves, and thus a blossom was born. However, all was not well for this little youngster's parents. They greatly wished for a daughter whose beauty would reach out and caress the tired spirits around her. They were delighted when their wish came true. The sun, shining brilliantly, had finally smiled over their worn out souls.
But alas, the happiness did not last long. Dark clouds stormed in, and their opaque presence covered the burning star. The rain, small, clear, water droplets, had begun to fall. The gentle pitter patterof their dainty footsteps mocked this unfortunate couple as the blossom they had so loved began to change. As thunder rolled in and lightning cracked against the midnight sky, what was once a radiating lotus flower drifting along the lake slowly changed into a prickly thorned rose.
Her name was Echizen Ryoma.
She sighed, her brazen gilded eyes shadowed by discomfort and stress. Her lips were set in a firm, thin line as she abruptly stood up from the beige-colored table, slamming her palm against the rough, wooden surface.
She glared at the startled male in front of her, her lush, emerald hair softly hanging down as she did so, framing her beautifully portrayed face.
"Excuse me sir, but I am bored. Your nonsense babbling does not please me one bit, nor does it entertain me in any way. Good bye. I hope I will never see your face again." Within a moment's notice, she changed her expression to that of a sweet, honey smile.
"A-ah, but Ryoma-chan! Your parents specifically arranged this omiai* so that we can get along!" He pestered her.
He honestly irritated her.
She supposed she shouldn't bother herself anymore and, without considering his thoughts about her, left the restaurant with a loud bang of the door.
"Ryoma-chan…! My honey…! My beautiful flower! What have I done wrong? Please, tell me!" He pleaded, chasing after her.
'Che. Persistent bastard.' She roughly wiped her lips with her sleeve, her legs' motions accelerating in order to successfully escape.
His voice started to fade out as the fatigue began to work along her body. She could feel her joints creaking and her muscles aching. How far had she been running, anyway? What was she running from? Rather, the question is why. Why did she run from him? Why does she run from her parents' decisions?
The scenery around her changed rapidly. She passed by stores, people, children, parks, and buildings, but not once did she ever stop doing what she saw as pathetic. She did not stop running.
Only when she had accidentally bumped into something did her legs cease to move. They trembled and begged for her to allow them some rest. She collapsed near the streets, panting and wheezing. The adrenaline pumping throughout her body has yet to run out, and her heart was sure to be beating irregularly. She took short, raggedy breaths yet she yearned for long, deep ones.
'What am I doing?' She asked herself, looking up at the sky. She didn't dare look down. She feared that if she did, she would truly have admitted defeat.
She heaved a heavy sigh, one that was much needed and loaded with burden. There were so many questions she wished to be answered, but there was no one who would reply. Questions come in pairs: there are those that question and those that are being questioned. Unfortunately, for some, the one that would fulfill the inquiring may be hard to find.
Without any warning, her phone started to ring. From it, husky voices hung in the air in the forms of song, manipulating the work to be a piece of art rather than a chorus.
She picked it up with a pressured heart.
"Ryoma-chan! Did you do it again? This is the sixth time this week!" Her mother scolded her. "Okaa-san just wants you to be happy, alright? So please, the next time, promise to me you won't mess up again. I'll be more careful in my choices and I'll try to get someone of your tastes, so don't leave them like that with getting a chance to know them better! They were all rather good men, though. Anyway, come home soon! And be careful! A flower like you could easily be caught by a wandering bee."
She frowned deeply, clenching the simple phone tightly. She knows her mother was doing this for her sake, but she dislikes it. She stood up, brushing the dust and dirt off of her outfit.
Before she went back, it's fine to wander a little, right? She clutched onto this thought with all her might and it gave her a small smile. Ever since she was young, she was adventurous. She loved going to unfamiliar places and feeling the exhilarating thrill of not knowing where to go and what to do. She loved creating new memories for herself and experiencing new experiences. The only problem with this is that she always did them alone. There was never someone by her side whom she would enjoy her life's pleasures with.
She slipped her hands into her pockets, fingering the velvety fabric of the rich clothing.
There was one person, though, but only one. She doesn't remember a lot about him, but she knows that he had left a large impact on her life. He was very influential and some of her decisions today were probably based on advice he had given to her before.
He actually tried to understand her rather than change her. He actually accepted her for who she was instead of trying to distort the young, innocent virtues of a girl into that of a common, twisted sin.
She may just be overreacting and exaggerating, but that is how she felt.
She doesn't want to be a pretty, useless flower that would only be for display.
She wants to be a flower that people would stop to look at and pick out from the ground, a flower that would bring comfort, joy, or relief to others.
She wanted to be a rose.
He understood all of this. Despite her nonsensical ramblings, he somehow interpreted it correctly and was able to touch her heart that was cold and alone.
Then, one day, he left. It wasn't for business reasons, nor was it for educational or domestic purposes. She didn't understand his motive.
Either way, he is just a distinct part of her memory now. Even if she has been influenced by him, he is no longer here with her so he is just a part of the past, something she would keep in the back of her mind at all times.
She snapped out of the daze she had been, lost in her thoughts and memories from long ago, and noticed that she had no idea where she was. The ghost of the grin that had continued to linger on her face slowly made itself visible. This is what she enjoyed. She enjoyed terror and excitement, exhilaration and confusion. You would learn more not knowing what to do or where you are. After all, what good would it be if you already knew everything?
So lost was she, though, that nothing seemed familiar. The people, the buildings, the stores, they were all of different brands that even she had never known of before. She did, after all, come from a rather prestigious family and thus, had not seen much of a 'commoners' daily routine.
However, it wasn't a rare event and she was not panicking. Rather, she was eager to discover more of this strange, alien neighborhood. What was the name of it? How do the people here speak? What do they buy? What is there to see?
All of this ran through her mind at once. Ever since her mother started arranging the omiais without her say in the decisions, she had been limited to the areas she could visit due to the thought of danger and masculine impression. Her mother wanted her to be a feminine, delicate person that giggled and was ladylike. She preferred being someone who was strong and could support themselves rather than depending on others to stand up after they have fallen.
She made a quick run-through of the area, skimming through the more populated areas and being more observant of the solitary ones where few people flocked to. It is the ones that are less noticed that make the difference. That's what she liked to believe in, and that's why she doesn't like doing things that everybody else does. She likes being unique, someone by herself, someone whom you can actually distinguish from the rest of the crowd.
There was one place in particular that piqued her interest. It was a rather rundown house. It seemed unoccupied, but there was ebony, thick fence that surrounded it. What was probably once a beautiful, magnificent garden became a jumbled mess of gnarled weeds and branches clinging onto each other, losing their colors during the winter and becoming frighteningly colorful during Spring and Fall. Vines climbed the walls, reaching great heights and they stretched, as if their desire was to reach even higher than the skies.
She believed this was a place where she would be able to find comfort and acceptance. She just prayed that it truly was unoccupied and no one would mind if she decided to climb over the spiked fence in order to get inside.
Unfortunately, the young girl was running out of time for the sun was starting to set. The collision between light and water could occur soon.
She slightly sulked, but thought nothing of it for she would be able to come tomorrow. It helps to have photographic memory. She had been able to capture every single detail of this house, every single feature it presented to the public. She can only imagine what would be awaiting her in the inside of it. She couldn't wait.
It wasn't that hard to get back home; oh no, not at all. As long as she had her phone with her, then it would take an hour at most for someone to come and pick her up. Her family had connections all over the world; taking it to the literal sense, too. She merely pressed a number on the dial pads and waited for the other end to answer.
"Miss, where are you?" questioned the deep, thick voice whom she recognized as a chauffeur.
"Eto, it's near the place I always go to. Ask Ryuuji if you don't know where that is." She closed the phone and started to hum along a song that had been left unsung. She started to walk towards the place where she considered as her favorite area to rest or find consolation in.
It was a garden.
The garden was open to public, much to her delight, though no one really ever took the time to visit it. She didn't mind. She could be alone that way.
The garden had absolutely everything. Rosebushes of every color, sunflowers, lilies, you name it, the garden has it. She had been helping taking care of it in her own way: by giving love to the flowers. Her family adored and loved plants, but their passion for flowers cannot be described.
She wasn't an exception.
It wasn't long before she arrived at the garden, and waiting just outside of the entrance, was a fair-sized black car.
A man, presumably the mentioned Ryuuji, stepped out of the car and bowed.
"I have come to pick you up, Miss." He smiled warmly at her.
She smiled back at him.
It was time to go home.