Red Memory
5/26/01
by Meimi -meimi@time-stranger.net-
[Spoilers for Seishirou's sidestory and Character File drama]
----------------------------------
I'm not insane.
Some people think I am. But I can assure you that I should not
be avoided or feared because I am 'insane'.
*He once said to me, "You like the camellias more than cherry
blossoms?"*
*"I am the cherry."*
It's not that I'm insane. To be insane, you must be crazy with
passion for something. To go insane with love for something. Or with
blind, raging hatred...or for instance, with loss.
I've seen insanity. It's dwelled in the eyes of every one of
those I have hunted; in the final moments when the chase ends. Their
passion for life peaking in those few final seconds, their eyes filling
with love and fear and anger all at once...and then to go dead.
I've seen it enough times to know how it looks. So I know I'm
not, you see. I don't think I have the lust for life to go crazy. What
I do...that isn't insanity.
Coming home from each trip outside with a white kimono newly
stained bright red...that's not insanity.
I am Sakurazukamori.
Few who who know the name can understand. It isn't that our
clan is mad with bloodlust that we kill.
It's in our name. In our blood. Each of us are born with the
sakura's will woven into our beings, its neverending longing for
murder. It's the tree that asks for the bloodshed. The tree that calls
for sacrifice, for the red camellia flowers to drift softly atop the
crimson-stained snow, for the pink petals to turn gradually redder,
one by one, and then fall soundlessly down in red rain...
The tree demands it all.
But nobody can ever seem to understand it's the sakura that is
insane. So the duty falls to our clan, who are little more than
messengers of the madness, to pick up the name of the murderers.
That's all right. I don't mind.
They can call me insane if they like. They can watch me behind
barred doors. They can keep on trying to wash the blood out of my
kimono sleeves.
The blood never comes out, but I prefer it that way. It's
beautiful. Like the camellia resting on the snow, and staining it that
way. I have a kimono with a design like that, but this one is just as
lovely.
Beautiful.
It's just we're the only ones that see the beauty in the blood.
We love pretty things, and the splattering of blood as a life
ends...it's quite beautiful in its own way, don't you think?...well.
That's why we kill instead of you. If you just look at
it from another point of view...it's such a beautiful sight.
I like the bright red that spreads across the world, when I
kill.
It isn't that I don't like cherry blossoms. The cherry blossoms
are a part of me, and I find beauty in them the way I do in my own
reflection...but camellia flowers. They can really be red. The cherry
tree's petals turn gradually darker shades of pink, but it's probably
impossible to kill so many as to make them really crimson.
Till that day comes, I'll keep on picking the camellias to
wear in my hair. I'll keep on embracing you with bloodstained hands-
you don't think anything of it, after all.
That's why I love you.
From the day we met years ago, I chose you as the one I would
love. The one I wanted to be killed by. Only you could understand. Only
you would feel that same pink-petaled throb echoing through your veins,
someday.
Only you would be able to kill me, and realize how wonderfully
beautiful that act would be.
I thought each time I killed, that someday it would be me on
the other side of the attack. Someday, my heart would be pierced by
your hand, and you would hold me in my sea of blood. And you would
smile so calmly, in the same way I always smile at those I kill,
because it shall be such a lovely shade of red.
After I am killed by you, your life as the Sakurazukamori shall
go on. A world marked by illusion, cherry blossom petals, and the fun
of the chase. It will suit you, because you were born for that life as
much as I was. You will spend your days drenched in blood, and one kill
shall not differ much from the next.
But someday, you shall meet someone.
Someone who you shall fall in love with.
*"I can't love anyone, Mother. You, who gave birth to me,
should know that."*
Yes...I thought so as well. When my own mother told me I would
fall in love one day, I laughed at her softly and sent her to rest
beneath the cherry tree with all the others before her.
But I met you. My child. My child, because you are the chosen
one of the sakura as I am.
When I met you, I knew you would be the only one who could
make my Wish come true: to make a pretty death.
I've dreamt of the day you will kill me. I have the entire
scene planned out in my head- I shall embrace you with bloody sleeves,
and tell you how much I love you. You can lie and say you love me, too.
It's a lie because you just love how pretty I am, and a dead beauty is
just as beautiful as one alive. More beautiful, really. And your
hand shall strike true with no warning, but I will know of its approach
nonetheless.
You will kiss my bloodied lips for the last time as I rest in
your arms.
It will be the most happiest, most lovely moment in my life.
*"Yes...I thought so, too. But then I met you..."*
I shall be thrown to the sakura, like the thousands before me.
You will not remember me except in passing, and then I shall be a
fleeting memory of beauty and the first blood you spilled.
But from time to time, think of me that way as you look at the
tree that will be my grave. And no matter if the cherry blossoms whirl
in jealous anger...if you think of it, lay camellias at the foot of the
sakura. Let them be an example to the cherry tree, of a crimson shade
it should endeavor to achieve.
And smile.
Always smile.
Because someday, you shall meet that person that will break
through to your heart without even trying. Someone that will not press
for you to change, will not call you 'insane'...but be someone that you
can exist with.
Like it was for you and I, that person will be the one you
were born to meet.
Smile for them, as the sakura petals rain down on you both.
Love them as much as the heart of a killer can, because someday your
life shall be ended by their hand.
There is no greater joy, my darling.
So until that fated day comes for me...let me keep on loving
you.
5/26/01
by Meimi -meimi@time-stranger.net-
[Spoilers for Seishirou's sidestory and Character File drama]
----------------------------------
I'm not insane.
Some people think I am. But I can assure you that I should not
be avoided or feared because I am 'insane'.
*He once said to me, "You like the camellias more than cherry
blossoms?"*
*"I am the cherry."*
It's not that I'm insane. To be insane, you must be crazy with
passion for something. To go insane with love for something. Or with
blind, raging hatred...or for instance, with loss.
I've seen insanity. It's dwelled in the eyes of every one of
those I have hunted; in the final moments when the chase ends. Their
passion for life peaking in those few final seconds, their eyes filling
with love and fear and anger all at once...and then to go dead.
I've seen it enough times to know how it looks. So I know I'm
not, you see. I don't think I have the lust for life to go crazy. What
I do...that isn't insanity.
Coming home from each trip outside with a white kimono newly
stained bright red...that's not insanity.
I am Sakurazukamori.
Few who who know the name can understand. It isn't that our
clan is mad with bloodlust that we kill.
It's in our name. In our blood. Each of us are born with the
sakura's will woven into our beings, its neverending longing for
murder. It's the tree that asks for the bloodshed. The tree that calls
for sacrifice, for the red camellia flowers to drift softly atop the
crimson-stained snow, for the pink petals to turn gradually redder,
one by one, and then fall soundlessly down in red rain...
The tree demands it all.
But nobody can ever seem to understand it's the sakura that is
insane. So the duty falls to our clan, who are little more than
messengers of the madness, to pick up the name of the murderers.
That's all right. I don't mind.
They can call me insane if they like. They can watch me behind
barred doors. They can keep on trying to wash the blood out of my
kimono sleeves.
The blood never comes out, but I prefer it that way. It's
beautiful. Like the camellia resting on the snow, and staining it that
way. I have a kimono with a design like that, but this one is just as
lovely.
Beautiful.
It's just we're the only ones that see the beauty in the blood.
We love pretty things, and the splattering of blood as a life
ends...it's quite beautiful in its own way, don't you think?...well.
That's why we kill instead of you. If you just look at
it from another point of view...it's such a beautiful sight.
I like the bright red that spreads across the world, when I
kill.
It isn't that I don't like cherry blossoms. The cherry blossoms
are a part of me, and I find beauty in them the way I do in my own
reflection...but camellia flowers. They can really be red. The cherry
tree's petals turn gradually darker shades of pink, but it's probably
impossible to kill so many as to make them really crimson.
Till that day comes, I'll keep on picking the camellias to
wear in my hair. I'll keep on embracing you with bloodstained hands-
you don't think anything of it, after all.
That's why I love you.
From the day we met years ago, I chose you as the one I would
love. The one I wanted to be killed by. Only you could understand. Only
you would feel that same pink-petaled throb echoing through your veins,
someday.
Only you would be able to kill me, and realize how wonderfully
beautiful that act would be.
I thought each time I killed, that someday it would be me on
the other side of the attack. Someday, my heart would be pierced by
your hand, and you would hold me in my sea of blood. And you would
smile so calmly, in the same way I always smile at those I kill,
because it shall be such a lovely shade of red.
After I am killed by you, your life as the Sakurazukamori shall
go on. A world marked by illusion, cherry blossom petals, and the fun
of the chase. It will suit you, because you were born for that life as
much as I was. You will spend your days drenched in blood, and one kill
shall not differ much from the next.
But someday, you shall meet someone.
Someone who you shall fall in love with.
*"I can't love anyone, Mother. You, who gave birth to me,
should know that."*
Yes...I thought so as well. When my own mother told me I would
fall in love one day, I laughed at her softly and sent her to rest
beneath the cherry tree with all the others before her.
But I met you. My child. My child, because you are the chosen
one of the sakura as I am.
When I met you, I knew you would be the only one who could
make my Wish come true: to make a pretty death.
I've dreamt of the day you will kill me. I have the entire
scene planned out in my head- I shall embrace you with bloody sleeves,
and tell you how much I love you. You can lie and say you love me, too.
It's a lie because you just love how pretty I am, and a dead beauty is
just as beautiful as one alive. More beautiful, really. And your
hand shall strike true with no warning, but I will know of its approach
nonetheless.
You will kiss my bloodied lips for the last time as I rest in
your arms.
It will be the most happiest, most lovely moment in my life.
*"Yes...I thought so, too. But then I met you..."*
I shall be thrown to the sakura, like the thousands before me.
You will not remember me except in passing, and then I shall be a
fleeting memory of beauty and the first blood you spilled.
But from time to time, think of me that way as you look at the
tree that will be my grave. And no matter if the cherry blossoms whirl
in jealous anger...if you think of it, lay camellias at the foot of the
sakura. Let them be an example to the cherry tree, of a crimson shade
it should endeavor to achieve.
And smile.
Always smile.
Because someday, you shall meet that person that will break
through to your heart without even trying. Someone that will not press
for you to change, will not call you 'insane'...but be someone that you
can exist with.
Like it was for you and I, that person will be the one you
were born to meet.
Smile for them, as the sakura petals rain down on you both.
Love them as much as the heart of a killer can, because someday your
life shall be ended by their hand.
There is no greater joy, my darling.
So until that fated day comes for me...let me keep on loving
you.