Hello, minna-san! Before you read this, a few quick reminders.
-Disclaimer: Standard.
-Author's notes: I just felt like writing this. No reason, no mysterious story behind it. I felt like it. Please review this piece. Reasonable flaming acceptable, but come on, if you have nothing better to do than destroy author's ideas, which seem good at the time, get a hobby. Writing isn't as easy as ya think!
-Enjoy!
The path is foggy ahead of me, the morning mist feels good against my face. The still silence is so thick, that I can feel it wrapping around me like a blanket. I remain lost in my musings as I travel through the edge of the town, searching for the road out. Sure, I have been helpful, but there's only so much good I can do in one place. I don't wish for people to become dependent on me, but for me to show them how they can be dependent in their community. How every person plays a part, not just one individual.
I sigh to myself as I continue walking, a shiver going down my back from the cold. The winter season has begun to arrive. It has not snowed yet, but the taste of it is in the air, reminding me with every breath on the back of my tongue.
I wish that, with every change of the seasons, that I progress more in healing the hearts that I have wounded. Not as the harmless rurouni, but as Hitokiri Battousai. I still strike fear in the hearts of those from the revolution. I am the monster who haunts little children's dreams, who will get them if they are not good. It happens every where I go. The mothers drawing their children close to them, keeping them away from me. The constant feel of eyes following every little move I make. But it's the whispers that I know of all too well. About me. About my hair, my eyes. But my cheek. The x shaped scar that pains me the most. Many say that Hitokiri Battousai put it there himself, carved it onto his cheek so that, without speaking words, his victims would know who he was and why he was there. No one knew I got it when I was careless on the streets of Kyoto. The first slash that left everyone in awe. Everyone wanting to know who it was that landed a mark on me. Or the second mark, that completed the x mark, while I held her in my arms as she died, while I screamed in agony.
Nor will anyone know.
I realize I have paused in my walk, so I continue. But I shiver again. But it is not from the cold.
**Please be a responsible reader and review my story! Arigato gozaimas to all who do.
-Kenomi ^_^X
-Disclaimer: Standard.
-Author's notes: I just felt like writing this. No reason, no mysterious story behind it. I felt like it. Please review this piece. Reasonable flaming acceptable, but come on, if you have nothing better to do than destroy author's ideas, which seem good at the time, get a hobby. Writing isn't as easy as ya think!
-Enjoy!
The path is foggy ahead of me, the morning mist feels good against my face. The still silence is so thick, that I can feel it wrapping around me like a blanket. I remain lost in my musings as I travel through the edge of the town, searching for the road out. Sure, I have been helpful, but there's only so much good I can do in one place. I don't wish for people to become dependent on me, but for me to show them how they can be dependent in their community. How every person plays a part, not just one individual.
I sigh to myself as I continue walking, a shiver going down my back from the cold. The winter season has begun to arrive. It has not snowed yet, but the taste of it is in the air, reminding me with every breath on the back of my tongue.
I wish that, with every change of the seasons, that I progress more in healing the hearts that I have wounded. Not as the harmless rurouni, but as Hitokiri Battousai. I still strike fear in the hearts of those from the revolution. I am the monster who haunts little children's dreams, who will get them if they are not good. It happens every where I go. The mothers drawing their children close to them, keeping them away from me. The constant feel of eyes following every little move I make. But it's the whispers that I know of all too well. About me. About my hair, my eyes. But my cheek. The x shaped scar that pains me the most. Many say that Hitokiri Battousai put it there himself, carved it onto his cheek so that, without speaking words, his victims would know who he was and why he was there. No one knew I got it when I was careless on the streets of Kyoto. The first slash that left everyone in awe. Everyone wanting to know who it was that landed a mark on me. Or the second mark, that completed the x mark, while I held her in my arms as she died, while I screamed in agony.
Nor will anyone know.
I realize I have paused in my walk, so I continue. But I shiver again. But it is not from the cold.
**Please be a responsible reader and review my story! Arigato gozaimas to all who do.
-Kenomi ^_^X