Disclaimer: I do not own Saiyuki… but the ideas I claim as my own.
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If the green fragment were to take the place of the red fragment…¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬
There's nothing particular about the boy, except for a couple red marks on his face, thin red lines which will surely scar his face for ever, only partly hidden by his short red hair. He is at the crossroads, he can go either right or left. Which will he choose? He doesn't know…. not that he particularly cares.
The boy takes off his glasses and cleans them carefully with the end of his thin shirt. Before he puts them on he hesitates, and looks at them with an odd expression in those blood-red eyes, normally so expressionless and cold. They seem to be only a pair of cheap glasses, with the lenses scratched and worn, but the boy holds them tightly with trembling hands. Jien bought them, he thinks. Jien got them for me so that I could see well. And now Jien's gone. The boy's face grows paler, and he suddenly sways slightly, as though he can no longer bear the memories of what he has seen so well, memories which are too heavy for his young shoulders to bear….
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Down, down come the claws ready to pierce his heart, ready to take away the life which caused so much misery…A soft moan, and a body falls to the ground. Jien is dead, giving his life in the stead of the half-brother he loves. And the she-demon screams for she loves her son, and now sees blood seeping through the white shirt she sewed for her boy, staining her hands forever with the worst crime of all. She has killed her own flesh and blood, the sole reason for her miserable existence.
She clutches at his body, calling his name… Jien… Jien… Jien… But how can a lifeless corpse answer back? And so she will die, rocking back and forth, with the name of her dead son on her lips, never heeding the sharp blade coming down, down burying itself in her back, taking her life to pay for the one she had stolen.
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Calm down, he says to himself. There's nothing you can do now. The boy straightens as he puts his glasses back on, but his thin face is still pale. He wipes the beads of sweat off his forehead, and tries to think. But it is not so easy to forget.
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He sees her coming at him, but he does not move. He is terrified, but he doesn't really care. There is nothing to make him wish to live, he cares for nothing and no one except for one… Jien?! His brother comes between him and his mother, and then… Her accursed voice calls his brother's name . Jien is dead. The boy stares at his lifeless body, and the same words echo in his head. Jien is dead. Jien is dead… JienisdeadJienisdeadJienisdeadJienisdeadJienisdeadJienisdeadJienisdeadJienisdeadJienisdead.
The blood pounds in his ears. He can no longer reason, he can no longer think. The fury within him has been unleashed and he can think only of one thing…He wants blood… her blood. He has no claws but he sees a knife with its cruel blade glinting in the sunlight. The boy moves mechanically. He rises and takes the knife and looks towards his stepmother. He lunges towards the she-demon, and stabs her, once, twice, three times, as she clutches his brother's body, until he is sure that she is dead.
His ragged breathing grows more even, and the knife slips from his grasp. His mind begins to clear, and he starts to grasp the enormity of what he has done. There is no time to grieve. Not yet. He knows what he must do, and yet he lingers, for a sudden thought crosses his mind.
She is dead. But Jien will not come back.¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬
But that is the wrong way to think. He nods his head slowly, as though replying to himself. It is true, Jien will not come back. But she is dead. All those years spent with her, being hurt being shamed and mistreated… all that had now been put to right. Justice has been done.
His lips curl upwards into a thin, cruel smile, and his eyes shine, as he savours this new thought.
She is dead. And it was I who killed her.
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He decides to take the left path simply because he feels like it. He has no ties, no family. He has no past and cares not about the future. He will live, then die and be forgotten, because that is the way thing are. But before he moves, the boy looks back for one last time.
A cloud of dark, black smoke meets his cold gaze, as the house he lived in burns together with his past.
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Comments, as always, are much appreciated. Thank you for reading.