My Immortal
Toby-Chan
A/N: This is it. The fruit of my many months of labor, devoted to my Kamatari fangirl-ism. Not much to show for it, eh? I was hoping this would be my summer project, and it would be finished once summer was over, but unfortunately, my muses don't work that way. This is a rare songfic that I can be semi-proud of. I know the song is cliched, but I worked hard to push the actual story a bit further and beyond. I did take a lot of artistic liscence on Kamatari's life, so this is my own re-telling of what might have been.
Another question that may come up: Is this Soujiro/Kamatari? I don't know. You decide.
Without much more to say (That's of any interest at least), I present to you, "My Immortal".
o
o.o
o.o.o
o.o
o
I'm
so tired of being here...
A breeze whistled by and gently
played with the loose bandages that were fixed around Shishio's body.
Each tattered bit was a piece of his knightly robe, the beautiful
halo that surrounded and complemented his strongly set face.
Scarred, he was. Burned, was the whole of his skin, but damaged, he was not. He stood with his shoulders straight back, assuming every inch of his height with dignity, a glory of a man, his katana proudly fixed at his side, and his gi slung off one shoulder, as he often wore it. Yes, this was him. This was the man I loved.
Elated, I tried to force back my joy at seeing him. Swallowing a few times calmed the butterflies."Kamatari," He said, his lips curling in a smile. My heart stopped jumping and simply stopped for that moment."Hai, Shishio-Sama." I managed. The sun glazed the surfaces of his shoulders and beamed onto my face, the heat only adding to the blush that crept through my cheeks.He extended his hand, bandaged and burned as was the rest of him, drawing it closer to my face. It was only he that I lived for; the burning touch I wasn't worthy of. His fingers against my cheek were hellishly hot, but painfully beautiful. I fought back tears, trying to bring myself to look him straight in the eye. I couldn't cry, not even out of joy before Shishio-Sama. It was a sign of weakness. I had to be worthy of his love.Closer together, I felt the longing in my heart grow fainter, my contentment nearly filled. I just prayed silently, that he would say those simple words. I wanted to hear his love requited. But he didn't, just touched my chin and drew me nearer. Would he kiss me? If only he would... he would...Crash!A thunderclap woke me with a start from my dream. A jolt of cold forced air into my lungs, and I was swept back into reality. Hands shaking, my greatest worry had been affirmed. It wasn't real.Supressed by all my childish fears
I sat upright in my futon, panicked by the sudden change of dimension that always seemed to separate dreams from reality. My small room in this Osaka inn was mostly empty, and cold. There was never any home for me, and this place was nowhere near being one. There were kind people here, and I was able to work for my stay, but somehow the part of my heart that died with Shishio kept the real me from caring about any of these new people in my life.
I flopped back once again on my pillow, not caring to give the extra energy to remain sitting. I scolded myself for having even believed that dream could be true.'Honjou no baka,' I hissed in my mind, 'Shishio-Sama dosen't care for you. He thinks you're disgusting.' I winced at the thought, 'And even if he hadn't, he is no more now.' I had to repeat it so many times in my mind to convince myself, 'That great man... is reduced to nothing more than a pile of ashes.'Another shudder of cold swept through my body and raised goosebumps upon my skin.'No. Shishio-Sama can't die that easily.'His soul was still in the air. Torturing me for all I was worth.
And if you have to leave,
I wish that you would just leave
Your presence still lingers here
And it won't leave me alone
I tried my hardest to force myself out of the futon and stand up. My sight darkened for a moment as I stood, and returned, while tried to wait out the dizzyness overtaking me.A shock of pain resonated through my legs. They felt so weak. Just as every sinew in my body, they were tired and worn, from nonuse and grief. I tried to flex my hand, bony and pitiful as it had become. The scars from old days of battle were faded and worn, just as my own memories.Though one might condemn me as crazy for saying this, I loved each and every one of those scars. Each had a story and a painful earning, but each was borne out of my love. I wished for every wound on my body to return at that moment. I wished to bleed the blood that declared my loyalty. I wished to be something of importance again.
These wounds won't seem to heal
This pain is just too real
There's just too much that time cannot erase
I leaned on the small table I had, looking at the few contents. A comb, an empty bag, a tiny vase, a wooden box, all unused. A tiny mirror sat there as well, winking a dull reflection back towards me. I lifted it tenderly and gazed, uncaring at the awful picture it returned.'Look at you, Honjou.' I said to myself once again, 'You're a mess.' The honesty of mirrors can be too much sometimes. Were they like the human mind, they would reflect only what you wanted, be it good or bad. A true reflection is sometimes too sobering. Mine told the story of insomnia and suppression of tears.The dark circles beneath my eyes were tell-tale of sleepless nights. The scant, unsmiling cheekbones gossiped about weeks of depression and hiding within myself. Violet hair, once springy with an energetic curl, now limp and plain. The lusterless eyes told of a lost will to be happy, a dullness in existence. This was my reality. This small world reflected in the mirror. It was me... alone, with no consolance.
When you cried I'd-
Wipe away all of your tears
I should have cried. But for all the emptiness I was filled with, I couldn't even feel the worth in myself to be deserving of tears. I was probably dehydrated as well. I knew I hadn't eaten in a long time, and it hadn't been too recently that I'd drank anything either. The thought jolted the impulse of thirst back to my tongue.'Water...' the word appeared and disappeared in my mind with ghostly dreariness. I fumbled for the basin beside the table, and tipped the last of the water into my mouth, which soaked it like a sponge, and left me just as thirsty.
It's funny how certain instincts trigger memories. Not even memories, really, more like emotions surrounding memories, fuzzily wrapping themselves around the semblance of remembrance, forming a faint sillouhuette of what once was.Thirst came to my mind. I was thirsty once...'I want some water please-' my own voice echoed faintly in my mind.I want... I need-...I felt the echo of a hand, stinging across my cheek, sending me to the floor. My fingers froze, dropping the bowl to shatter, and I fell to my knees and screamed in sincere gut-wrenching fear."Stop it! Stop it, please!"
When you'd scream I'd-
Fight away all of your fears
The hand did not cease. I felt the past becoming my reality, re-living events I wished I forgot. The physical and emotional suffering slipped through the demensions of time and returned, inflicting pain on my weakened body. I curled inward, wishing the the hurt to go away. I wasn't ready for this. I wasn't prepared to remember."Stop it!" I yelled out, clasping my hands over my head. I saw my younger self, curling defensively against a wall, and I felt each blow issued by the dark figure standing before me."Father, please!" My younger self gazed up with imploring blackened eyes. I whimpered, as he grabbed my shirt collar and lifted me to his face, and shouted,"You're no child of mine, you little faggot!"The impact of my small figure against the floor many years ago resonated into my spine, causing me to jolt. I vividly remembered the smarting of contact with the wall. Although the deeper emotion that overrode all remembrances was the complete and utter rejection.All voices faded from my memory, and all faces were overcast with heavy shadow, even my own. All I could see was my huddled and dirtied form, and father walking away.With fear and reluctance, I cracked my eyelid open, worried I might still be stuck in that awful dream. With a throbbing air of harsh reality, all I saw was the broken bowl split in pieces across the floor, and the split skin on my palm, from landing on a jagged edge.I went limp again and rolled to my side, overwhelmed by the fact that I was safe, but also bothered by it somehow. I closed my eyes once again and traced my finger along a plank of the wooden floor, then let it fall as well.I imagined how I must have looked, curled pathetically on the floor and crying over the past. 'So weak,' I heard the voice echo through my head.'Damn you,' I thought passively, 'Damn you Shishio-Sama, for staying here like this. And... damn me for loving you so much.'
And I held your hand through all of these years
But you still have...
All of me...
'That's the only reason you still haunt my thoughts, Shishio. I was a fool who couldn't let go. And I never will.'
o.
o.o
o.
A
young man quietly entered the front room of the Mizuki Inn, looking
for no more than shelter from the rain. He shook his slightly
dampened dark mop of hair, and bowed a polite greeting to the
inkeeper.
"Arigatou Gozaimasu." He closed his eyes, thoughtfully."How's everything going here?" A young lady in a peach kimono, carrying a tea tray walked by and asked.
"Just fine, Michiko," Sentaro replied, and motioned to Soujiro, "This is Seta Soujiro. He's from-... where did you say you came from?""I'm a rurouni from Kyoto." He responded dutifully."Well, Hello, Soujiro-San. Kyoto, huh?" She commented, holding her finger to her lips in thought, "It'd be nice to visit there, wouldn't it? I have some relatives in Kyoto, but I don't recall ever going."
She paused a moment."Come to think of it, that young lady who's been working here part time was from Kyoto."
Soujiro's interest was sparked lightly."She's a lovely girl, who's been working for us the past month or so. She seems friendly enough, but she's been melancholy lately, and she's been sick for the past few days.""Really? For that long?" Sentaro asked, and Michiko nodded,"If you ask me, it's probably not a case of actual illness. She's been mourning for a lost loved one, and I suppose it's best to let her get it out of her system. I really don't know her well enough to talk to her about such a personal matter. The poor dear.""Do you happen to know this young lady's name?" Soujiro asked, trying to seem casual about it."Let me see... It was... Honjou-San... Ka- Something with a K.""Honjou Kamatari?""Yes! That's it!" Michiko nodded, "Do you know her?""Yes. A friend of the family, you might say." He watched small leaf bits settle in his tea cup."Well isn't that a fine coincidence?" She smiled, loading some dirty dishes on her tray and bringing them to the sink, "Perhaps if she's well again, you should say hello to her."Soujiro smiled, but inwardly, he felt a hint of worry.'It's not like Kamatari-san to be so depressed...' He thought, watching the dappled light from the window wash like invisible rain upon the counter.
o.
oo.
o.
I
lay on the floor, dazed, wondering what had caused my sudden outburst
of painful memories. I looked up at the ceiling, trying to gather
myself. My father's face was half shadowed in my mind. He was a cruel
coward of a man, who blamed his problems on others. The opposite of
Shishio-Sama. That was probably why I loved Shishio so much, for his
resonance, his ability to defy what hand fate had dealt him and
become a complete person. To be that complete human that I could
never be.
You used to captivate me
By your resonating
light
My mother died in childbirth, bearing her first
child, me. Father never forgot about it, nor could he forgive me.
Everything I did growing up seeemed wrong to him. He took out all his
angers on me, and it was only a matter of time before he finally gave
up and left. I was ten years old.
Now I'm bound
By the life you left behind
But all things must change for better or worse.
I remember, that the first emotion I felt towards Shishio-Sama was awe and admiration, after having read of him in a newspaper. Of course, the government always tried to keep the details of his activities under wraps, but if one knew where to look, one could find his history.
And look I did. I discovered all about his great power as a Hitokiri, his betrayal by the government, his friends, his brush with death, and his self-made ressurection, bringing himself from his own ashes to seek revenge. I grew a deep secretive respect for this man I'd never met; because he could do something I thought I couldn't. He could face adversity, and be whole. If he could defy the card that fate dealt him, and be a complete man, then certainly, hopefully, I could do the same; defy fate, and become a complete woman.I kept these thoughts to myself. Even Oka-Chan didn't know of my secret admiration. Perhaps it was all fated. For none of us knew that I would come to meet this phantom whom I admired.It came so suddenly, I could barely remember. Oka-Chan had helped me style my hair, and prepare for bed, like most nights. It was a dry night, though ominous clouds loomed ahead. I should have sensed something in the air, something apprehensive, as though it was known that something big would happen. Instead, I just slept as normal.I was woken by a scream. I don't know who's it was, but it was blood curdling, accompanied by the strong wind that blew. I raced through the house, to find if mother was safe. We met, and I told her to hide; that I would take care of things. She told me what she had heard was going on. It was that bandaged fugitive, the one that the government was trying so hard to keep a secret. He had gathered followers, and set out for a massacre. It could have been any town, really. He had been making a statement of threat. A complete slaughter or takeover was good for such purposes.I ran for the weapons room, taking my scythe, as heavy as it was. I ran as fast as my fourteen year old feet would take me, through the halls, through the rooms, slamming shouji all the way. Before I even made it to the street, to see what had become of the town so far, I ran into a solid body. It was one of Shishio's Henchmen. I'd met him at the most ironic, but perhaps convenient place, the training hall.
Seeing I was a girl, (Or appeared to be), he thought I would be easy and tried to kill me quickly. I swung my sharp bladed scythe, and slashed him through and through. More followed, and in a blind fury, all I could think about was protecting her. Blood sprayed, bodies fell, and before I knew what had become of me, I was panting, in a fighting stance, bloodstained among a room littered with corpses.That's when he entered. He seemed to be twice as tall as he really was, standing menacingly overhead. His red eyes burned with fury. He didn't need to say anything to assert his anger that his men had let themselves be killed by a child.Even being the man I'd admired, I didn't hesitate to attack him full force as he drew his sword. I dodged and swung and fought like a thing posessed. Eventually he got me with a good kick in the stomach, sending me back across the floor."Who are you?" He asked, somewhat amused, "Did you do all this?" I knew he meant all the dead men."Go away!" I screamed, lunging at him, "Leave now!" He caught the handle of my scythe in his hand."You seem rather spirited, Jou-Chan. I might have use for you.""Leave us alone!" I yelled again. struggling with all my might, causing the blade to nick his wrist just a bit."Who is 'us'?" He asked, grinning twistedly, "A family here, no doubt? Tell me."I was silent, realizing I couldn't hide her."Yes, you do have a family, don't you. And what if I kill them?" He had me where he wanted me. The anger flared in my eyes."Spare her!" I blurted, desperate, knowing this man could take any of our lives at will, "Spare her, please."He seemed unsatisfied with the plea. I lowered my head."Spare that woman who lives here, and I will return your favor with my life. I will serve you, Sir."That small sudden burst of words was enough to sign the contract. My gut was met with the impact of the blunt handle of his dagger. I swooned, and passed out, the last image I saw, being his face. That image was what both comforted me and hurt me in the dreams in the years to come.
Your face, it haunts
My once pleasant dreams
When I came to, I was in a carriage, being looked after by a boy, perhaps a year or so my junior. He was kind, but almost inhuman in the way he smiled. I was introduced to Shishio, his lover, Yumi, and the boy, his pet project, Soujiro."Oka-San!" I gasped, "Where is she?" Shishio let a small laugh."Your mother is safe." He said, "Like we agreed, I spared her in exchange for you, although we did have to burn the house. It's best that we leave a few pitiful survivors to tell the story, otherwise no one might believe we actually did it."I breathed a sigh of relief. The house and town may have been gone, but at least she was alright."Where will she go now?" I asked, worried about her not finding a home."She'll manage to survive if she is strong. In this world, only the strongest survive. The weak perish." I was suddenly drawn in by enthusiastic interest."Strong, like you, right?" I asked, excitedly, "You're Shishio Makoto-Sama, right? You were killed, all those years ago, but you came back because you had the strength to."He chuckled, amused."It seems my reputation preceeds me. The question is now, was our agreement worth it? Those men you killed were some of my best. If you were able to kill them, then they must have been weaker than you. If that's so, you could be a useful ally to me. Especially seeing as nobody would suspect a harmless little girl to be lethal."I was ecstatic."Yes!" I blurted, my fists clenched, "I'll follow you, Shishio-Sama! I want to be a strong person, just like you!"
He leaned back, considering his choice, and his new admirer."We'll see about that..."The images played like a fuzzy reel in my head. Those years I spent with my new "Family", the Juppongatana. The stains of blood on my hands that I spilt in service of Shishio-Sama. Fighting with Yumi. Nights of tearful lonely sleeping, pushing myself to be all I could be for the one I loved.Now I lay upon the floor amidst the broken shards of a once purposeful life. And I had to ask myself, 'Was it worth it?'My body was little more than dead weight curled upon the mat, and my mind was slowly slipping through the open windows of my dead eyes. I heard voices, thousands of them. I could hear My father, screaming at me, my childhood schoolmates, teasing me for not acting like a normal boy, Yumi jealously lashing sharp tongued insults my way for having even considered Shishio could have returned my affections. Mostly, though, there was the voice of Shishio.
He
told me how weak I was. How I had failed him. How I was unworthy of
being a Juppongatana, and unworthy of his love. He told me how he
loathed me, and how it was impossible for such a disgusting person to
be loved.
I stopped my ears, trying to make the noise cease again.
I'm not sure if I screamed; for if I did, I couldn't have heard
it.
Your voice, it chased away
All the sanity in
me
Blindly, I picked up the broken piece of the ceramic
bowl that lay beside me. Needing something to hold, I clenched
tightly onto it, even though it split into the skin of my knuckles
and palm. The stinging sensation of bloodflow gave a small sensation
of reality, throbbing like the blood pounding through my veins, and
silencing the cruel sounds with the thick protection of physical
pain.
These wounds won't seem to heal
This Pain is just too real
There's just too much that time cannot erase
I was panicked with the paranoia that had suddenly overtaken me, and I submitted to the direction of this foreign force that was holding me back from hurting myself more. Paralyzed with deperate eratic breathing, I continued to struggle, as the gentle hand pryed the sharp object from my fist.My face covered in sweat and tears, I didn't know what to make of this. I thought for sure I was going crazy, or that I'd died and was being taunted by other ghosts. But I floated closer to consiousness, to hear something of a familiar voice commanding me to snap out of it.I cleared my mind more, frantically searching for a face to match to the voice. I finally spat half the words- as this rescuer continued to repeat something, and lull me with a soft 'Sshh.'"S-Souji-" I half hiccuped resting into the strange sudden appearance of this old acquaintance. I could see him now, his hand holding my arm back to stop me from causing further destruction; his other arm around my shoulder, trying to keep me still, and less frightened. I couldn't understand how he'd come here, or why he was doing this. This didn't seem like the Soujiro I'd known. He never comforted people, or showed any sort of affection, or caring. So what was this? Another dream."Kamatari-San." He said, quietly, his face to the side of mine, as he kept holding on to me to ensure I wouldn't lose it again.I couldn't respond in anything but shuddering sobs and sharp breaths. I just collapsed inwardly, at the prospect that this was something real; that there was a real person here, whether or not they truly cared about me. My ears rung with the sound of my own name. It felt so strange to have someone speak it to me so earnestly. Weight slowly overtook me as I floated back into the room, in the present time, out and away from my memories and fantasies.
Eventually I was able to move myself to speak.
"Doushite?" I asked, helplessly hanging my head.
"Hm?"
"D-Doushite desu ka? Why are you here? ... Are you real?"
I felt him nod, "Mm."
It didn't make sense. He of all people- here of all places. I couldn't think of any explanation. Helplessly, I just played along with the strange reality.
"What are you doing here?" A mild sense of coherence was rooting itself in my mind.
"I can't tell you if you're unconscious. Let's bind up your arms first, and get you to stop bleeding." My head just sort of bobbed listlessly, as he removed a handkerchief from his sleeve and tore it along the stitching several times, pulling with his teeth, then tied it around my wrists.
"Now then. Better?" He asked, not letting go with his gentle grip on my hands. I must have nodded, because he seemed satisfied for however I'd just answered, and released my numb hands, to set himself at a more casual distance. I started jumping to conclusions about what he must have thought, seeing me in the midst of my mental breakdown.
"I- It's not what you think-!" I told him, rushedly, "I just- I didn't mean to...- I mean... I'm not crazy or anything."
"I know. It's alright." He replied, with a non judgemental gaze, that reflected an odd understanding. A pause and a hesitation followed before I continued,
"So-... How did you know I was here?"
"A coincidence." He replied, "Life is funny that way, isn't it?"
Yeah... funny. My sacrifices, my hope for a complete life, all spiraled into nothingness. Shishio-Sama just sponaneously combusted and left the remaining ten swords to rot. Yes, life was really funny.
"Hilarious," I said in the quietest tone.
I gazed at the fuzzy window, where shadows of rainsheets spread across the flat surface. It was depressing and cold. Not that the weather made any difference.
"Dreary, isn't it?" He said, standing up to face the window, "The rain makes everyone sad, dosen't it? It's cold, and makes everything look dark and ominous." He turned his head and smiled slightly,
"But at the same time, it replenishes everything, and nurtures us. Without rain, we'd probably all die. Rain is sad, but it can wash away pain as well." His eyes dulled a bit as he continued,
"It also makes a perfect mask for tears," and was silent.
It didn't really make any sense, he of all people talking about tears. I surely couldn't imagine him of all people ever crying, or making any break in that cheery demeanor of his. What could he possibly know?
When you cried I'd-
Wipe away all of your tears
When you'd scream I'd-
Fight away all of your fears
Suddenly, I was intrigued. I didn't say anything, but my mind fleeted in a sort of shy curiosity, as he sat back down beside me.
I tried to break the silence.
"D- Do you remember when we first met eachother?" It was an akward memory to bring up, but it was better than letting the dizzying quiet grow into stagnance.
He slowly nodded his head.
"Mm." He replied, "Shishio-San made me carry you back to the carriage. I was the first one to realize that you were-..." He paused akwardly.
I blushed profusely,
"How did you know?" I stammered.
"Well..." He fidgeted, a little, possibly the first time I'd seen him uneasy in... well, ever, "You seemed a little... flat-chested for your age." I was dumbfounded and a little violated...
"But I didn't tell Shishio-San. He still had to figure it out on his own..."
"Yeah... that was funny, wasn't it?"
"It was, wasn't it?" We shared a quiet laugh, trying to find some fond memory that wouldn't cause more pain than neccesary. There was something different in his eyes... I couldn't quite tell.
"Soujiro...san?"
"Yes?"
"What happened?" He looked a little caught off-guard, another emotion I'd never seen him portray.
"W-what do you mean?"
"You're-" I hesitated, "Different." He closed his eyes, in understanding my observation.
"A lot has happened." He said softly, "To you as well, Kamatari-San. I can tell."
"Hn?"
"Don't tell me it's normal for you. Even in the face of adversity, you always used to face the world with strength and energy. You had passion and conviction." He strayed his gaze over the broken shards on the ground, "Now what?"
"You aren't as bright as I thought you were. I lost him. There's nothing for me to be passionate about. Life is no longer worth living. What about you? What are you living for?"
He contemplated for a moment.
"Just for me." He said softly, "Just for the truth."
I scoffed.
"What truth? You sound so self righteous like that."
"And you sound like a fool who won't let go."
Was I going insane, or was Soujiro just being impolite there?
I froze in shock for a second, and started laughing, slowly, then more loudly.
"I guess after all I really don't know you in the least."
"That makes two of us, then."
A thunderclap rumbled in a low background noise, almost comforting in a way.
"Maybe... you need something to live for. Someone, if only yourself" He said.
I closed my eyes and remembered.
"Just Oka-San... I couldn't find her now, though. And even if I could..." I opened my eyes and stared shamefully at the floor, "She would be ashamed of what I'd become now."
"This- mother of yours-..."
"Well... She wasn't really my mother. I just cared for her like one. Before Shishio-Sama... she was the only one I would have died for."
"Is that so..." His eyes dulled a bit. I supposed he had never had a mother figure before.
"Yes." I said, a peaceful feeling sweeping over me, "She was a wonderful person... she was the only one who really believed in me."
I grew a bit more cheerful as I continued to tell him about her. I told him all about how close we'd been, all the ways she cared for me, how I did my best to be the daughter she wanted. For a moment, it was as if I could forget Shishio-Sama.
"You really did... love her..."
"...Mm. Maybe... Maybe I should try to find her." My spirits lifted a bit more. Maybe Soujiro was meaning to help me out of this slump.
He grabbed my wrist suddenly.
And I held your hand through all of these years
But you still have... All of me
"I-... I don't think you'll find her."
"But just maybe. Maybe I can. I have nothing else to look for. Even if I can't forget Shishi-"
Just as suddenly, I found myself being pulled boldly into his tight embrace. He hugged fastly, pressing my arms against my sides.
"No... Y-you can't..." This wasn't making any sense to me. I couldn't look at him, with my body immobilized in his swaddling grasp, my face pressed sideways against his shoulder, but I could feel a slight tremble emitting from him, like a suppressed sob.
"Why? What are you doing?" I tried to push myself away, but he pulled tighter. This was the most un-Soujiro-like thing he'd ever done. It was like... he was distracting me.
"You won't be able to find your Mother, Kamatari-San."
"I can if I try. Shishio-Sama spared her in exchange for me!"
"He didn't!" He silenced me with those simple words. I came to realize he was hurting from this also. He shuddered, and I felt his fist clench, behind my back.
"That night... when we found you," I felt if he gripped me any stronger I might break, "Shishio-San... He lied to you. He killed that woman. I watched him. I watched, as I carried you..."
He lowered his head, trying to pull nearer to mine.
"I'm sorry..."
I tried so hard to tell myself that you're gone
But though you're still with me...
It felt a bit like a second relapse into non-existence. The air and surroundings simply reeled, and I fuzzily lost my grip. Something seemed to make sense now. I couldn't put my finger on it, but I felt some burden floating away from me.
Once again, Shishio's face appeared in my mind. But this time, my heart remained passive and cold at the thought.
'I really was a fool, for believing in you.'
I gripped the cloth of Soujiro's gi, letting my grief surface within my tears. A pathetic sight, really. So weak. And Yet... I didn't care.
For it was there... that I let go.
I've been alone all along...