Shinboku
I'd been waiting.
Waiting for absolution, waiting for any answer at all to the question I could never ask.
"Where are you, Himemiya?"
At first, I was hopeful; I knew she'd find me, and I believed with all my heart that one day I would open my door to see her standing there, a smile of relief on her face and joyful tears in my eyes.
I waited a year. It never happened.
Another passed, still no sign of her. Then another, and I felt my initial hope slipping away, being pushed towards a precipice by nagging doubt.
It's been four years now-I've made some semblance of a normal life in the outside world; going to college, getting a job, living a perfectly quiet, average existence.
Without her, it feels empty.
Meaningless.
What do you do when you lose your sole purpose in life?
Protecting her was my reason for being-ever since I decided to become a prince.
Promised to become her prince.
To free her.
Had I failed? Had she just stayed at Ohtori and forgotten about me completely? Gone back to being the rose bride?
It was fine, I told myself, because she was happy.
But I'm not.
I'm standing on the curb of an intersection; it's in the middle of the city, and I blend into the crowd as well as a girl with men's clothing and pink hair can. The noise and throng of the other commuters combined with the heat of a tropical summer make a stifling atmosphere. All I can think about is getting to work and getting out of the blaring sun.
From where I'm standing, I see a flash of violet hair; a part of me thinks nothing of it (there were plenty of people with purple hair in the world) and another part flutters with long-dead hope.
The girl is smiling almost sagely at me, her green eyes sparkling with some emotion I can't pinpoint. Her violet tresses fall wildly in curling waves down to her knees, and some strands stick to her face with perspiration.
She's wearing a billowy white sundress that's slightly too big for her, and it hangs from her shoulder at a slant, revealing more coffee-colored skin. On her dirty feet are worn and tattered sandals, which move with her feet over the asphalt in a graceful manner.
She's standing right in front of me, staring into my eyes while I stare back, dumbfounded.
"Utena." She whispers, embracing me.
I am silent, but pull her closer.
One of the many Utena-based dreams I've been having recently. I just sort of wrote this out, so I know it's kinda bad…Please review anyway!
