Disclaimer: I own neither Anotsu or Magatsu. Samurasensei does. Go him.
The Aphorism of One Fall's Harvest Moon
--------- --- -- -
It's that night. That single night when the wind turns a little bit colder, and you know it's the end of summer, that the ground will be littered with shards of water below freezing. That single night when the leaves fall kamikaze and the moon stares down, sad and orange. It reminds you that we're all dying.
And here you are, some scrawny seventeen year-old boy with too-pale skin, too-long hair, and, obviously, too much of an introspective nature for someone your age. You berate yourself for thinking like someone on his deathbed, and slump against the time-riddled monster of a tree that lies directly behind you. An exasperated sigh is all that you have to offer the cool-getting-colder night air.
You stare, thoughtless, at the moon and barely register a twig brushing past your right ear. A larger predecessor makes slightly more painful contact with your scalp. You look up, eyes narrowed, countenance sharp.
There's a man -- around your age, maybe a little older -- sitting on one of the larger branches of the decrepit tree, up to the right. He's not even looking at you. No contented smirk, no expression of malice. He's staring, entranced, at the moon, just the same as you.
So, being the intelligent young man that you are, you throw one of the sticks back his way. A dose of his own medicine, as it were. Your endeavor of vengeance is unsuccessful, the stick grazes his left kneecap only slightly. You never were one for displays of brute strength. It's enough to get a reaction, though. He looks down at you, analyzes you for a few minutes through dark eyes, and at long last gives you a small, approving nod.
"You're one of those dojo kids, right? What's your name?"
"I should be asking you the same question," you counter. Whether or not the incredulity that you meant to add actually made it into your words, you don't know.
The tree-man laughs quietly and runs a hand through his scarecrow black hair.
"No, and Magatsu. Magatsu Taito," another almost-smile, "Now it's your turn. Shoot."
And you freeze, quite possibly out of fear of rejection. After all, why would this single person find you socially acceptable? You can only hope that he'll be like tonight -- some catalyst for greater things. Not necessarily better, but greater, nonetheless.
"Not really, and Anotsu Kagehisa."
For a few seconds, some form of scant recollection flits across his face, but it's gone before you can make anything of it. It's replaced first by an utterly blank expression, and then by that strange, half almost-smile.
"Well, Kagehisa Anotsu. I'm glad that we've met. I'll see you around, I'm sure."
And he's gone. He's gone, and you've just had some sort of twisted epiphany.
For the first time in your life, you're more than your grandfather's name. And you can swear that those are sakura mixed in with the dying leaves as you look up past the spot where he was and follow the rising moon in its journey through the clear night sky.
Winter's completely skipped you over.
The Aphorism of One Fall's Harvest Moon
--------- --- -- -
It's that night. That single night when the wind turns a little bit colder, and you know it's the end of summer, that the ground will be littered with shards of water below freezing. That single night when the leaves fall kamikaze and the moon stares down, sad and orange. It reminds you that we're all dying.
And here you are, some scrawny seventeen year-old boy with too-pale skin, too-long hair, and, obviously, too much of an introspective nature for someone your age. You berate yourself for thinking like someone on his deathbed, and slump against the time-riddled monster of a tree that lies directly behind you. An exasperated sigh is all that you have to offer the cool-getting-colder night air.
You stare, thoughtless, at the moon and barely register a twig brushing past your right ear. A larger predecessor makes slightly more painful contact with your scalp. You look up, eyes narrowed, countenance sharp.
There's a man -- around your age, maybe a little older -- sitting on one of the larger branches of the decrepit tree, up to the right. He's not even looking at you. No contented smirk, no expression of malice. He's staring, entranced, at the moon, just the same as you.
So, being the intelligent young man that you are, you throw one of the sticks back his way. A dose of his own medicine, as it were. Your endeavor of vengeance is unsuccessful, the stick grazes his left kneecap only slightly. You never were one for displays of brute strength. It's enough to get a reaction, though. He looks down at you, analyzes you for a few minutes through dark eyes, and at long last gives you a small, approving nod.
"You're one of those dojo kids, right? What's your name?"
"I should be asking you the same question," you counter. Whether or not the incredulity that you meant to add actually made it into your words, you don't know.
The tree-man laughs quietly and runs a hand through his scarecrow black hair.
"No, and Magatsu. Magatsu Taito," another almost-smile, "Now it's your turn. Shoot."
And you freeze, quite possibly out of fear of rejection. After all, why would this single person find you socially acceptable? You can only hope that he'll be like tonight -- some catalyst for greater things. Not necessarily better, but greater, nonetheless.
"Not really, and Anotsu Kagehisa."
For a few seconds, some form of scant recollection flits across his face, but it's gone before you can make anything of it. It's replaced first by an utterly blank expression, and then by that strange, half almost-smile.
"Well, Kagehisa Anotsu. I'm glad that we've met. I'll see you around, I'm sure."
And he's gone. He's gone, and you've just had some sort of twisted epiphany.
For the first time in your life, you're more than your grandfather's name. And you can swear that those are sakura mixed in with the dying leaves as you look up past the spot where he was and follow the rising moon in its journey through the clear night sky.
Winter's completely skipped you over.