DISCLAIMER: All elements of Suikoden series are properties of Konami. Fanfiction belongs to littlemaiko. Stealing is prohibited.
NOTES: Spoiler for Suikoden 1 and 2. Based on Suikoden 1's "bad ending". Japanese winter peonies, or "kantsubaki", are culturally seen as bad luck because of the way the flowers fall off. "Bocchan" is Japanese for "Young Master" and refers to Kohaku McDohl, the hero of Suikoden 1.
====================
The Snow Covered with Peonies :: Prologue
by littlemaiko
"Ah, Bocchan, please don't bring peonies into the house."
"Peonies?"
"Those flowers you have in your hands. They are bad luck."
"Why, Gremio? They are so pretty! See, they fall clean from the shrub... no stubbly thorns or stems."
"They are called 'beheading flowers', Bocchan. Because their 'heads' are naturally cut off."
"......Beheading flowers?"
"Yes. So, Bocchan, please keep them out of the house. My, you are soaked in snow! Where have you been?"
"There are peony bushes along the east wall of the city."
"East? That's by the cemetary! Bocchan..."
"I know, Gremio. I'm sorry that I went there alone."
That day, I left four crimson-petaled flowers lying on the snow-covered street before my house. Looking back, I regret having touched the accursed peonies. The nickname of "beheading flowers" proved true and snatched away the lives of four people several years later.
Maybe Gremio knew more about the flowers than he told me, because when he was changing me out of the wet clothes, I noticed that his hands were trembling.
I have no intention for irony when I place bouquets of peonies before my father, Ted, and Gremio's graves in Gregminster. I have no sentimental or bitter emotions when I throw those stemless flowers into the underground waterway in Lenan Camp. The only wish that I have is for the redness of the winter's blooms to spill over my body and sever the thread of my own life.
Rather than me keeping up the contact with peonies, I think the irony lies in the beauty of scarlet flowers scattering over the snow. The east wall of Gregminster is still lined with the same shrubs, and every winter, when I sneak back into my hometown to pay respect to the dear ones, I see the white carpet of snow spotted with red of the beheaded flowers. I find that sight the most beautiful out of all spectacles of nature.
Perhaps my appreciation for beauty is warped. Man-made battlefields splattered in blood, Gremio's long-lost golden tresses, my father's internal courage and valor, and the snow covered with peonies. I find them all very beautiful. Or perhaps, I only accept those memories and sights as colored images in my eyes and all else is gray.
My life no longer holds meaning. I have no dream, no hope, no reason to even breathe, yet I shall remain as I am for the rest of the eternity until one blissful day, a strong one shall come and take my head. A strong someone with hands stained in the same red as that of the peonies.
TO BE CONTINUED
NOTES: Spoiler for Suikoden 1 and 2. Based on Suikoden 1's "bad ending". Japanese winter peonies, or "kantsubaki", are culturally seen as bad luck because of the way the flowers fall off. "Bocchan" is Japanese for "Young Master" and refers to Kohaku McDohl, the hero of Suikoden 1.
====================
The Snow Covered with Peonies :: Prologue
by littlemaiko
"Ah, Bocchan, please don't bring peonies into the house."
"Peonies?"
"Those flowers you have in your hands. They are bad luck."
"Why, Gremio? They are so pretty! See, they fall clean from the shrub... no stubbly thorns or stems."
"They are called 'beheading flowers', Bocchan. Because their 'heads' are naturally cut off."
"......Beheading flowers?"
"Yes. So, Bocchan, please keep them out of the house. My, you are soaked in snow! Where have you been?"
"There are peony bushes along the east wall of the city."
"East? That's by the cemetary! Bocchan..."
"I know, Gremio. I'm sorry that I went there alone."
That day, I left four crimson-petaled flowers lying on the snow-covered street before my house. Looking back, I regret having touched the accursed peonies. The nickname of "beheading flowers" proved true and snatched away the lives of four people several years later.
Maybe Gremio knew more about the flowers than he told me, because when he was changing me out of the wet clothes, I noticed that his hands were trembling.
I have no intention for irony when I place bouquets of peonies before my father, Ted, and Gremio's graves in Gregminster. I have no sentimental or bitter emotions when I throw those stemless flowers into the underground waterway in Lenan Camp. The only wish that I have is for the redness of the winter's blooms to spill over my body and sever the thread of my own life.
Rather than me keeping up the contact with peonies, I think the irony lies in the beauty of scarlet flowers scattering over the snow. The east wall of Gregminster is still lined with the same shrubs, and every winter, when I sneak back into my hometown to pay respect to the dear ones, I see the white carpet of snow spotted with red of the beheaded flowers. I find that sight the most beautiful out of all spectacles of nature.
Perhaps my appreciation for beauty is warped. Man-made battlefields splattered in blood, Gremio's long-lost golden tresses, my father's internal courage and valor, and the snow covered with peonies. I find them all very beautiful. Or perhaps, I only accept those memories and sights as colored images in my eyes and all else is gray.
My life no longer holds meaning. I have no dream, no hope, no reason to even breathe, yet I shall remain as I am for the rest of the eternity until one blissful day, a strong one shall come and take my head. A strong someone with hands stained in the same red as that of the peonies.
TO BE CONTINUED