HEY!!! This is just something I wrote while I got bored. It seemed pretty nice so I wrote more and here it is!
Here he comes again, with that very same book. Elirith held on tightly to the tree's branches, positioning herself so that she could see him clearly and he couldn't see her. His long night-black hair contrasted the bright green of the leaves; she loved the way it flowed down his back like a waterfall of ebony. Just as well that his eyes seemed like an endless night sky, deep and mysterious in all their wonder.
Elirith had been told endlessly to avoid him, avoid looking at him and was forbidden to even speak about him. Her village became nearly abandoned because of him and he was nothing but trouble to everyone. They hated him, feared his power, rushed away from him like a plague and deemed him a cursed being, yet she couldn't help but feel drawn to him. She wanted to know him. Unfortunately, Elirith couldn't muster enough courage to tell him or her family and friends. All she could do was watch.
So, everyday, every time he sat underneath that very same tree, she would be amongst the leaves. It seemed that the Soukoku man--how she longed to know his name--had a special affinity with the ancient plant. It was a lone but elegant tree, perched on the hilltop, basking in the warm sunlight, and away from the dark forest. Elirith realized that he was a lot like it. Uniquely magnificent yet cast out from the rest because of it, high up for all to see their splendor, whether they recognize them or not.
Well, she clearly did.
Elirith definitely forewent bigotry and saw past appearances--though the Soukoku man was evidently really good-looking--discreetly admiring him despite all the discrimination. He was obviously intellectual and as far as she could tell, he would be a great help to the world if everyone would just drop their prejudices and give him a chance. Sadly, Elirith could do nothing about it.
She blinked, her train of thoughts broken by one idea that raced into her mind out of the blue. Perhaps she could do something to help him; it may not work but she's willing to give it a try…
That night, Elirith sat at her father's writing desk, with a quill in one hand and a steely determination in her heart. Words were transcribed onto the paper as soon as they entered her mind. She wrote and wrote, each time failing miserably. It just didn't seem formal enough, they would jest and mock such an amateur epistle instead of truly heeding its contents. She wrote into the wee hours of the morning, until her hand ached and her eyes burned. Dozens of crushed paper were tossed onto the gravel floor. The perseverant mood Elirith originally had shrank to be akin to a mere candle flame, ready to die out anytime. But it would still be burning and it was not until the first ray of sunlight peeked over the horizon that she had finally succeeded.
Elirith's heart fluttered with joy as she practically flew to her room, seeking the messenger pigeon her grandparents gave her. The paper in her possession was folded to a neat square, marked with the words "To the General of the Resistance Army" written in a classy, cursive penmanship. Snow-white wings flapped rapidly against the purplish sky of dawn; the pigeon had taken flight with Elirith's letter tied firmly to its leg.
With any luck, the swift dove would reach them by noon, latest evening.
The Sun shone unusually bright that day. A cheery radiance unlike previous times, it was a good sign. Elirith continued watching the Soukoku man from the cover of the leaves. She especially liked her daily routine that particular day. The gentle breeze that passed by every few minutes played with his long hair, tossing dark locks about and bringing them into the columns of sunlight that filtered through the emerald cover overhead. And the way he paused for a moment to look into the distance with that deep and enthralling gaze…
Elirith loved it. She loved him.
But her bliss was not to last, for soon enough, the loud neighing of a horse shattered the tranquil atmosphere. A man clad in armor, with hair of such golden luster that rivaled sunlight itself, approached the Soukoku. He said something, but from Elirith's position, she couldn't hear anything from the conversation that followed. Very soon, the two men shook hands and left for a destination unknown to her.
The very moment they were out of sight, a tear fell from Elirith's grey eyes. She smiled, a sad grin that held insignificant hints of triumph and joy. The gaze in both men's eyes wasn't something that she was unfamiliar with. It was the very same way she looked at the Soukoku…
Elirith didn't mind, though. Unlike herself, that golden-haired warrior would most likely be able to bring happiness to him. Since that day, she would visit their encampment sometimes, but she never made herself visible to anyone. Her heart ached and soared at the same time whenever she saw him so clearly content with his new position as the tactician aiding the noble resistant troops. Elirith knew she could never be with him, but she was happy that she was able to make his life better.
"Hey, Murata!" a black-haired youth called cheerfully to his friend, who stood by a large fountain in the neighborhood park. "Sorry, I'm late!"
"Shibuya, I'm not the one you should be apologizing to," aforementioned friend replied with a smile.
"Right…Man, I can already picture Wolfram yelling at me…"
"Shall we get going then?"
That being said, the two boys plunged into the fountain. Somewhere in the woods behind, a young girl of 15 at the most emerged from her hiding spot atop the trees. Her school uniform was slightly torn by the branches, but she didn't notice. A small smile tugged at her pink lips as she sat on the white marble of the fountain. Long, pale fingers reached out and touched the water's shimmering surface, creating a tiny ripple that stretched outwards until it finally disappeared.
"Eri-chan! What are you doing here? We're late for rehearsal!" a voice called from the park's entrance nearby.
"Eri" looked up and beamed at the waving girl. She wore a white shirt with a blue blazer and a black pleated skirt, the same uniform "Eri" adorned. Strapped onto her shoulder was a guitar case.
"Coming!" 'Eri' called, casting one last glance at the glistening water before running to her friend.
She knows she could never be with him; all she could do was watch…
And that's about it. Personally, I feel sad for Eri/Elirith. Whether Eri is Elirith's descendant or reincarnation, it's up to you because it doesn't really matter, does it? Hope you liked it! Please review...
-Lotus Kurosawa Sae