Wither,
By Ariliana
Cold winds swept down from the north, bringing the touch of frost in its caress. With a sudden change the idyll was over, gone with summer's warmth. Calm violet eyes stared out over the changing landscape as leave began to turn and fall. Another burst of cold wind lifted the thick mane of red hair off his shoulders and tried to pull the strands with it.
The garden seemed to be dying. Tree's dropped their leaves, giving them up to the spirited wind. The plants started turning a dead brown, withering up. It turned desolate, empty even of the people that lived there. Summer was over and everyone had moved inside to enjoy the warmth.
Slowly Kenshin exhaled, breath condensing in the chilly air. He had never enjoyed winter, the cold cut deeply into his slight body. And the chill opened partially healed wounds. Slowly he moved off the porch and into the yard. The wind, finding its new playmate, swirled around him tugging. Kenshin moved towards the neat rows of withered plants, kneeling purposefully.
Despite the chill, despite the wind, he spent hours working. For days he had watched the plants dry up, green leaves turning brown. Every year the winds came and the world died again. Every year he would water the plants, pack leaves and mulch around them. Kenshin knew it was futile trying to keep the gardens alive. No matter where he went, the wanderer would try. No matter where he went, the attempts would fail. Finally Kenshin would give into nature and clear the dead away.
Through the years Kenshin noticed a change. He had stopped seeing the bare ground as a bane. It had stopped being an empty graveyard, devoid of life. Somehow, in the years he had drifted from place to place something had changed. Kenshin still fought to keep the plants alive but slowly he began to accept the cycle.
A wry smile cast Kenshin's lips upwards as his mind continued to wander, hands working on auto. Pull this plant, leave that one. Rake the dirt here, or dig there. He worked the grounds carefully, preparing a bed.
The bare dirt was a promise. A promise that spring would come once again and the garden would bloom with life, instead of choked over with the dead plants from last year. Almost idly the red head's mind noticed he was shivering. Finishing the row Kenshin stood, looking at his work for a moment. The bare ground was empty, but somehow inviting.
"Kenshin! It's freezing out! Get back inside." The voice sliced across the yard, sharp in worry. Already smiling he turned eyes warming at the sight of Kaoru. Winter would come and the plants would wither. But then came the spring.
AN: This was a challenge by my friend Dew, to write a fanfic with the title Wither. I drifted a little getting off track. Kenshin's life really is like the seasons. Spring, summer, fall, winter and then spring again.