humm... everyone seems to be posting their fics on the main ML ^_^. Tsuzuki oneshot,
VERY short, set during the Kyoto arc.
Standard disclaimers apply.
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Lie
by Rubie
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He had simple possessions.
Despite the floors that took on the appearance of a patchwork quilt, he never indulged
himself in luxury. He bought whatever caught his fancy, always on whim or impulse. But
they were just possessions, something to decorate his already painted walls and add color
to his home. The wild disarray of scattered objects were a sense of comfort to him. It took
his mind off other things; instead, he could focus on not tripping over his dirty clothes on
his way to the hall, or avoid knocking over a stubborn plant that decided to adopt a
crooked trunk.
He kept those things around him as something to distract him when he was unhappy. The
cat that lived next door, though it did not belong to him, was something that made him
smile. He tried hard to please it, so it would always return. The pale lily that grew in the
shadow of the sun added elegance to the whitewashed rooms. Although it preferred
silence and isolation, he favored it with endless care. He did that because he felt
obligated. If the lily wilted and died one day, it would be his fault. If the cat chose not to
come one day, it would be his fault. And if a little girl fell and broke her arm one day, it
would be his fault. He wasn't there to stop it. He wasn't there to help them, just as
nobody was there to help him.
Everything came back to him. He wanted to help others because he it set his own heart at
ease. He wanted to help others because of the desperate hope that perhaps, someone
would have helped him then. So in a way, he never really thought about others. He was so
selfish, it made him rage and scream just thinking about it. He would tear at the delicate
possessions, scatter the fragile glass, and sharp teethed paper would fill the air. After the
fury, he would stand alone in the decorated room, thinking. Then he would apologize.
"I'm sorry," he would say to the already dead.
And pick up the fragments with trembling hands. It was his fault. It was always his fault.
But he would make sure they were carefully taken care of. So when the cat visited the
next day, it wouldn't know. Instead, it would continue to go to him, and the lily would
continue to bloom for him. They wouldn't see his flaws, his selfishness, his infinite guilt.
He would smile to them too, to reassure them of his innocence and happiness. Just a
simple lie, because he wanted them to stay with him. He needed them to stay with him.
He wanted so much.
He was so selfish.
End
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uhhh... well... -.-;; Although told through a third person, its actually more of Tsuzuki's
own view on himself. Thought it would be more powerful told through third person
narration. Donnuo how the experiment worked out. This is what I took his personality to
be... I think most people would disagree. But it seems that everyone in my fics are
extremely unstable emotionally. -.-;; *sigh... even usually normal characters come out
abnormal... .;; ack...
Inspired by The Things They Carried by Tim O'Brien, a very unique story on the Vietnam
war. Has a lot of interesting story telling techniques, strongly recommended!
Comments, quesitons, or concerns welcome!! Still draft version, so critisim is great.
VERY short, set during the Kyoto arc.
Standard disclaimers apply.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Lie
by Rubie
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
He had simple possessions.
Despite the floors that took on the appearance of a patchwork quilt, he never indulged
himself in luxury. He bought whatever caught his fancy, always on whim or impulse. But
they were just possessions, something to decorate his already painted walls and add color
to his home. The wild disarray of scattered objects were a sense of comfort to him. It took
his mind off other things; instead, he could focus on not tripping over his dirty clothes on
his way to the hall, or avoid knocking over a stubborn plant that decided to adopt a
crooked trunk.
He kept those things around him as something to distract him when he was unhappy. The
cat that lived next door, though it did not belong to him, was something that made him
smile. He tried hard to please it, so it would always return. The pale lily that grew in the
shadow of the sun added elegance to the whitewashed rooms. Although it preferred
silence and isolation, he favored it with endless care. He did that because he felt
obligated. If the lily wilted and died one day, it would be his fault. If the cat chose not to
come one day, it would be his fault. And if a little girl fell and broke her arm one day, it
would be his fault. He wasn't there to stop it. He wasn't there to help them, just as
nobody was there to help him.
Everything came back to him. He wanted to help others because he it set his own heart at
ease. He wanted to help others because of the desperate hope that perhaps, someone
would have helped him then. So in a way, he never really thought about others. He was so
selfish, it made him rage and scream just thinking about it. He would tear at the delicate
possessions, scatter the fragile glass, and sharp teethed paper would fill the air. After the
fury, he would stand alone in the decorated room, thinking. Then he would apologize.
"I'm sorry," he would say to the already dead.
And pick up the fragments with trembling hands. It was his fault. It was always his fault.
But he would make sure they were carefully taken care of. So when the cat visited the
next day, it wouldn't know. Instead, it would continue to go to him, and the lily would
continue to bloom for him. They wouldn't see his flaws, his selfishness, his infinite guilt.
He would smile to them too, to reassure them of his innocence and happiness. Just a
simple lie, because he wanted them to stay with him. He needed them to stay with him.
He wanted so much.
He was so selfish.
End
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
uhhh... well... -.-;; Although told through a third person, its actually more of Tsuzuki's
own view on himself. Thought it would be more powerful told through third person
narration. Donnuo how the experiment worked out. This is what I took his personality to
be... I think most people would disagree. But it seems that everyone in my fics are
extremely unstable emotionally. -.-;; *sigh... even usually normal characters come out
abnormal... .;; ack...
Inspired by The Things They Carried by Tim O'Brien, a very unique story on the Vietnam
war. Has a lot of interesting story telling techniques, strongly recommended!
Comments, quesitons, or concerns welcome!! Still draft version, so critisim is great.