Black Vow
Rin: Prologue
I am told that on earth it is only a common fruit, but to me, apples are so much more. When ripe, red and bright, they are suggestive to me of blood, passion, and fire. I can think of nothing calmer to equate the color to, but perhaps it is because I have experienced all of these things in their full force; I am filled with them, and they permeate me completely. They have been my life; they have been my death, my destruction.
I thought it was madness that a fruit so supposedly sweet could cause such pain, and that is why I was the most arrogant angel in heaven. I thought that I could do much better with my apple than the first of humankind had done with theirs, and I was so very wrong. You see, once you break through that slight skin of conscience and fear and sink your teeth into the substance of that apple, you are lost. Your mouth is saturated with juices so sweet that they fill your tongue and mind and heart completely. They become all you can think of, and then the first bite is not enough, can never be enough. There must be others, and you take them, as I did.
That was my mistake, my fatal mistake: I thought that I could simply take a bite and then release what remained and walk away. I did not account for the fact that the apple is alluring, powerful, compelling, and regardless of the strength of your resolve, that one bite brings with it infection. You are infected with its taste and you must have it back, you must! You will do anything to taste again, anything . . . Even now the memory of it brings a kind of madness for me. I am transported back to the days when my allegiance was to the apple and the apple only—an allegiance which eclipsed all else.
I now believe it is better never to taste than to taste once and crave forevermore, but it is only my experience that has brought me that insight. If you heed my words, you are saving yourself from great harm. If you do not . . . that is your choice, though of course it saddens me to think of anyone repeating my mistake and having to go through what I've gone through. In fact, that's why I'm writing my story—to keep anyone else from doing what I've done. Listen, if you're resentful towards the people in your life who are telling you the right thing to do and are thinking about running from it, I understand. I ran away—far away, without so much as looking back. For some of us, hearing is simply not enough; we must know it ourselves—try it, live it, feel it—otherwise, it is meaningless. I was one of those people. I resented the right and chose the wrong. I beg you, don't be me!
Here, I could lie to you to make myself look better than I really am, but I won't: no part of me is sorry that I did it, and that is what makes me wicked, not the deed itself—for everyone commits evil deeds. It is my inability to procure any sort of feeling of repentance or sorrow for my actions. I simply cannot feel remorse; I sunk my teeth into the apple with all the passion that was in me, wishing in the process to lose what I was meant for, to make my own meaning, to forget my lack of freedom.
The only good I can speak of myself is that I did, at the end, manage to redeem myself somewhat. If I hadn't, I would be more regretful, but I'm not because I know my death wasn't meaningless. Even if I'm to be punished, it won't matter. I have done what I have done for the apple, my apple. She is the only good reason I have ever found for living, in either heaven or on earth. Her name? Hatsune Miku . . .
I've got the whole story planned out; this is only the beginning! Stay tuned for more . . .