DISCLAIMER: All elements of Suikoden series belong to Konami. Fanfiction belongs to littlemaiko. Stealing is prohibited.

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The Snow Covered with Peonies :: 3
by littlemaiko






Kohaku didn't know whether to laugh or cry as he watched the madman fall beneath the blow of a tonfa. He'd witnessed the battle in its entirety, not with the usual appreciation for blood but out of the concern for the man he'd deigned to be the "strong one" to take his life. After a little investigation, he'd found out that the wolf-like man in white armor was Luca Blight, the Mad Prince of Highland. Tracking Luca had been more than easy, since every where the man went, warfare followed.

// And the smell of blood leads to his own crimson pool... how ironic. //

The boy toyed with his loose hold on the staff, feelings its solemn heaviness. He could have gone and saved Luca, but he had withheld from doing so. It was not his place to go and change history; if Luca Blight were to die here, then his intuition had been wrong. He had no need for someone so weak.

"So you aren't the one... What a shame."

Shaking his head, Kohaku took up the role of a hidden spectator. A long-haired, slender Asian who looked like a strategist walked up to the victorious boy whom Kohaku guessed to be the leader of JSCA. The two conversed, too quietly for the young McDohl to hear, and the young boy shook his head to whatever had been told of him. Then, the whole army disbanded, chasing off the remaining Highland soldiers and leaving Luca's body untouched.

The discarding of the primary enemy's corpse surprised Kohaku. He pieced everything together; the strategist had suggested to behead Luca and the boy had declined. The naive kindness amused Kohaku into chuckling darkly. He remembered himself sparing Millich and other generals who had been under the control of Windy. The memory of the beautiful witch pained him, almost until the back of his eyes burned. He had triumphed over her, but the price had been too high. Had he the chance, he would have never gotten involved in her business. After somehow rescuing Ted, he would have...

// No use. Shut up... shut... up!!!! //

Kohaku rammed his left hand, having let go of the staff and clenched into a fist, into the nearby tree. He felt no pain, although the impact shook the trunk of the medium-sized arbor. Shutting his eyes to kill the threatening tears, he leaned upon his staff like an old man. He felt so old, yet he was young enough to remember everything with painful clearness. The darkness settling into the abandoned forest only made him concentrate more on what he'd rather not think of.

"What use is thinking? Stop it, Kohaku McDohl! Let everything go... all except for death!!" Raising his voice in rare occasion, Kohaku screamed up to the night sky obscured by the trees.

"...Who's t-there...?"

The faint voice, ragged and hindered by labored breaths, filled the utter silence of the woods after Kohaku's outcry had echoed out. Drawn by certain astonishment, the boy in red tunic hastened to the source of the feeble question.

Luca Blight lay like an insect that had been stomped by a soft-soled shoe. His limbs were intact, none of his garments torn from his body, yet blood streamed from various places wounded by arrows and cuts. He hacked out a little blood, the sign of intestinal damage. For all the evidence of a dying state, the Mad Prince's dark eyes glared without death's fog clouding over them. The intense gaze snared the oriental youth in the night.

"You......."

"Good evening, Luca Blight. You have lost." Kohaku spoke flatly, kneeling down by the fallen man. He reached to feel the pulse at the blood-colored neck and was surprised to find a rather strong beating there.

"Have you... come to see the curse of that flower... fulfilled?" The injured warrior-prince demanded, fire still burning in him. He reached up his left hand with amazing strength and captured Kohaku by the neck, squeezing. "Mere flower will... NEVER kill me!!"

// Impressive, he is. I was not mistaken. //

The choking cut off the youth's voice. Pleased by the power of the large hand, Kohaku gripped at Luca's thick wrist and pulled away by force. It was difficult; he smiled at the danger the hand presented upon him. Not wishing to be interrupted by futile fighting, however, he let go of the defiant arm and stepped on it harshly to keep it pinned to the leaf-covered ground. Luca didn't even groan, but neither did he put up further resistance. His right arm did not move an inch.

"You are right. The curse of the peonies have not killed you. Don't fight, Luca. I will help you, for a price."

Kohaku's rather delicate, young face illuminated dimly in the darkness; Luca's eyes widened just a little at the pain-filled and demonic calm expression. The madman did not flinch, however. He only breathed with effort and curled his hand pinned beneath the boy's foot into a fist.

"What do you seek, ...demon?"

"Demon? You are closer to the truth than you think, Luca Blight. I only ask for death in return to your life. I will nurse you back to health and when you are well... I want you to kill me in a fair match."

"And if I refuse..."

Curling his lips without creating a smile of any sort, Kohaku increased the pressure of his foot resting upon Luca's wrist. He eased a moment before breaking the prince's bone, opting to just let go entirely and kneel back down instead. He pulled off his green bandana and wiped at the blood on the other's handsome face.

"You will not refuse, though. I can see in your eyes, Luca. The will to live, the light I do not have." Kohaku whispered, his voice dripping with strange envy. His affection for death was a double-sided mirror; he would earn the needed relief with regaining of the will to live, too. Dying was the easier way out, however, since nothing would make him want to live again. There was simply nothing left for him worth living for.

Luca did not answer, for he had lost consciousness. The young McDohl did not mind; he already knew what the Mad Prince wanted. The vengeful flame still filled the man's soul.

"Then you shall live, Luca." Kohaku's brown gaze traveled to the masterpiece sword that lay next to Luca's body. Despite all the fighting it had endured, the sharp blade had not chipped at all. He sighed softly as he reached for its white-gold handle, already dreaming of the day it would impale through his body and free his spirit.






TO BE CONTINUED