Hey all, I'm not dead! I began writing this piece a while ago, but I only completed it today. This is my first published Rurouni Kenshin fanfic, so enjoy :)
Every morning he visits the temple, kneeling in front of the shrine and meditating on how his obsession with honour and glory caused him to lose his humanity. Some days he thinks the overall outcome wasn't tragic; no one he cared about had died at his hands, a small miracle. But most days he sees himself as such a wretched excuse for a man, thinking of the shame and disgust his late friends would feel if they could see him now.
Every noon she follows, carrying a small bento of fish and rice. She bows politely to the priests at the shrines, for once not running, but taking the effort to keep still and quiet her soul. She kneels beside him for a moment, glancing surreptitiously at him from the corner of her eye. The silence gets to her, and she always leaves after five minutes, feeling restless and uneasy. She doesn't belong here, doesn't fit in; she finds spiritual awakening and inner peace in the bright afternoon in the forest, or in the still of the night just before one slips into deep slumber. Not in the unnaturally quiet temple, holy thought it may be. She leaves the carefully prepared bento next to him, and takes her leave, wondering if he actually appreciates the acts of love she shows him.
Every sundown he rises still and steady as the sun does the opposite behind the horizon. He inclines his head, shoulders bent in the opposite direction as pride. He repeats this silent salutation as he passes the priests in the entrance hall. He doesn't make eye contact though; how can he meet their eye, like equals, when he is so impure and they so holy? As he exits the temple, he looks straight ahead, never behind at the stately building he leaves behind. Perhaps one day, he will be able to return for a different reason, with his head held high in humbleness.
Every evening they pass each other, though they do not acknowledge it. He walks down that secluded laneway back home, while she travels in the opposite direction to the temple. They take the path for the same reason, though their destinations are different. Along this lonely path, there is no fear of running into others. But while he slowly returns home for a few hours of semi-peaceful sleep, she strides forlornly towards the temple to retrieve the untouched bento sitting on its solemn stone steps.
Every night, she turns in her sleep, so restless and uneasy. When will he return to his old self again? When will he return for her? In the still of the night, she falls into old thought patterns. No longer distracted by the business of the Aoiya nor her own self-imposed errands, her mind is awake for hours... wondering... hoping... Perhaps the next day he will find that divine revelation he is so seeking. Or perhaps he will come to his senses and realise what he has here and what there is to offer him, should he choose it. Perhaps this will be the day when it all gets better. Perhaps...
And every day, the cycle begins anew.