Safe

~

It's real early morning,
No-one is awake.

Dawn is still steely gray. All is good.

I tread familiar steps, letting them lead me away from my room. It's reassuring to hear you and Yahiko, sleeping in varying degrees of quietness, secluded in each of your rooms. You are oblivious to me, unaware of my steps, unaware of these thoughts that haunt me. You can't feel these dark ghosts that claw down at me, shredding me into lines of nothing, pulling me down into the crying silence. I hope you never learn of this side of me. The one that suffers for no good reason.

Doors slide and hallways end without my knowing. And I am here, as if by chance.

I'm back at my cliff
still throwing things off.
I listen to the sounds they make
on their way down.
I follow with my eyes till they crash.

And before me, in its old, harsh majesty, it awaits. Cold incarnation of that which father hated and loved, that spirit he put into me, like his father put into him. There, in front of me, is that which he tried to cure himself of before he spread it to his child. He failed. Kamiyas were always fighters.

Imagine what my body would sound like
slamming against those rocks.

I take his katana, still mostly flawless and pristine, where he left it before his death. I unsheathe it cleanly, grasping the familiar hilt in my right hand, sensing the familiar weight, the familiar length.

It shouldn't be familiar.

"Every morning I walk towards the edge."

I hold it vertically, my arm straight, its point down, blade to the left. My eyes don't leave the imaginary horizon I draw on the wall.

With practiced cleanness, the blade bites into the flesh of my left forearm. I let it be. I let it bleed.

When it lands
will my eyes
be closed or open?

I apologize to my father. I am sorry I am not the heir I should be. Could be. I am sorry I am not male. Most of all, I am sorry that I cannot handle the weight of the world like he wanted me to. I really am.

But the violence, it's always there, clawing to get out. And I'm often close to collapsing. I can't hold it in. I can't deal with this urge to hurt. I should be stronger, wiser, but I can't help wanting.

It is part of what he taught me, as much as he tried to erase that knowledge afterwards. I can't do this by myself; it's too hard. I am weak. I don't deserve the responsibility, and I don't deserve his trust. Or yours.

I let it bleed

I go through all this
before you wake up
so I can feel happier
to be safe up here with you.

Thank the gods I'm a clumsy cook. The scars, properly bandaged, can pass as kitchen mishaps to the unobservant majority. Maybe you notice. I don't know. I don't really want to.

But I need this, you see…

When dawn is still steely gray, I paint it red, and in a while the bloody dye fades out into orange and yellow and blue, and I can be myself again. I made the sacrifice. I carried the pain meant. I pay the dues I set myself. And I can breathe free once more; the weight of guilt is off. I can smile, I can move, I grow under the sun.

I'm free of my load, and I can now help you with yours. I can feel right beside you again. I allow myself to feel like I deserve to be safe.

I go through all this
before you wake up
so I can feel happier
to be safe up here with you.
 (Björk ~ Hyperballad)

Disclaimer: right. because I have to tell literate people that I don't own Rurouni Kenshin or Björk's Hyperballad. Sure. -.-