My name is Len Kagamine. I am the loyal servant and brother of the queen of Lucifenia. I am fourteen years old, dedicated to my nation, and, as of just a few seconds ago, the murderer of the girl I love.
I'm holding her in my arms, my knife wedged into her stomach. She has long since gone completely still, but I don't want to believe it. I just killed her. I hardly knew her, and I killed her in cold blood.
Why do they have that saying? "In cold blood?" Blood isn't cold. It's warm. It's warm and sticky and red and it's getting all over my hand. The hand that I used to stab her with.
I feel something else warm and sticky running down my cheeks. I'm crying. Damn it, I told myself not to cry. Crying only makes it worse.
With the sickening sound of blade moving through flesh (a sound that I can now claim, in all truthfulness, to have heard more than once), I remove the dagger from her abdomen.
Despite the large, obvious wound, she still looks peaceful. Even in death, she hadn't put up a fight. Rather, she seemed to welcome it with open arms. She even hugged me as I pushed the knife into her. I hugged back. It was the last form of physical contact she would ever receive.
She seemed to be smiling. I wondered why. For all she knew, I was just a stranger from the neighboring kingdom. I had no logical reason, in her mind, to end her life.
I sigh and brush away a strand of her sea green hair. I notice that her eyes are closed. In the pale moonlight, she looks like she is sleeping.
I know what I must do.
There is a lovely patch of purple pansies not too far away from here. She lives (or rather, lived) in a secluded area closer to the forest. I could probably manage to get the flowers without being caught by my own people, who are wreaking havoc on the rest of the kingdom. Making up my mind, I start off into the bushes.
When I discover the flowers, I reach down to pick them up. However, I immediately retract my hand when I remember that there is still copious amounts of blood on it. I have to force myself not to cringe in disgust as I wipe my hand off on my pants.
I spend the next five minutes gathering the flowers. Finally, after my arms are almost completely full, I solemnly walk back to where she lay peacefully on the cold ground.
...No. That doesn't feel right either. She doesn't deserve to have her final resting place be just another patch of grass. It needs to be somewhere special.
Tucking the flowers under my right arm (which is already somewhat difficult), I gently wrap my left one underneath her shoulder. I feel unclean, dragging her body with me, but she needs to be comfortable in her eternal sleep.
I find a tall, thick tree deep in the forest. It looks welcoming and pleasant, like the ideal place to lay against in the heat of the summer to protect yourself from the bright rays of the sun.
Perfect.
With a grunt, I position her body so that she is sitting up against the tree (though this takes a lot of work, what with the flowers under my other arm), and I get to work delicately placing the pansies in her hands.
When I am finished, I step back to gaze at my handiwork. She truly does look beautiful, the flowers in her hands enough to cover the wound in her stomach. I'm tempted to kiss her forehead, but I chastise myself for even considering such a thing. In life, she loved another, and there was no way she could ever be capable of reciprocating my feelings, especially after I just murdered her.
I stand there like that for God knows how long. I don't want to leave, but I know that the queen will be expecting me soon. She will want to know all about how I killed that girl, how I rammed my knife into her and felt the life drain from her body. And she will be delighted, delighted that she is now out of her way, and I will be delighted because my queen is delighted, but deep down inside I will never forgive myself.
I know someone will find her eventually. She will be laid to rest in a proper grave, probably far from here. But for now, she is at peace. For now, she lays undisturbed, smiling beneath the thick tree.
I turn away, unable to stand the sight of her anymore. Then, choking back an anguished sob, I take my leave.