Chapter 3: Rose on the Grave
Muraki stood alone beside her grave two days after. Her relatives and the people who cared for her, though they seemed like hundreds, now where gone into the fog leaving the silver haired man alone to his miseries. But his miseries were long gone, all replaced by an anger than might have burned hell itself. He blamed himself for over estimating and her for being a mortal.
He knelt down beside her and dug a small hole on her fresh grave. He cried, after all those years, he cried once again like he did when his parents left him at the hands of Saki, then at the hands of someone he did not know, he cried once again reliving the hot liquid flow down his cheeks amidst the cold raindrops, a feeling that he had tried to much to forget.
He lit a black candle, its flame continues to remain unextinguished despite the rain. "Let her not remember me in the other life. Let her be in peace forever, with out any memory of the man who took her life." he whispered to the wind and poured the melted wax unto her grave. There grew and bloomed two roses, a black one and a white one, having the same roots on where he poured the wax.
He extracted from his pocket a piece of paper containing a formula, the formula for the medication he used on her as with with all the women he had recently killed. He left it there in the hole and covered it with the same soil that covered her. Together with her died his reason for living much less his passion to seek eternal life.
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She stood by the tree to where she was buried, finding it queer how people can be so sad and dark at such a time. She knew everyone and in her heart, she thanked each and everyone of them for finding time to visit her. But she can't find in her heart to cry, not until she saw that man. The man was crying on her grave though she couldn't remember who he was. She wracked her mind as to who he might be but there was nothing in her memory to remind her. But he cried there like he was the most affected of them all.
She couldn't catch what he was doing as he bent down, his back to her.
She felt someone touch her shoulder. "Come now," they called.
It had been a surprise to her the day before when they came to her and revealed themselves as Shinigamis. It was as if she understood why they were there at the Jiyuutei. But it was never revealed to her. When a person forgets how he or she dies, it was the Enma-Cho's regulation to leave them that way. It was rather peaceful to not know how a person died, whether a silent death or a gruesome one.
Hisoka and Tsuzuki knew very well how she died but rules are rules.
Hisoka threw Muraki one last look wondering if he knew that they were there... if he knew she was there. He was a Muraki that he has never seen before, one Muraki that contained a heart, a heart enough to grieve for the dead, a heart quickly turning to nothingness.
"If this be the worth of your madness, accept it Kazutaka Muraki." he whispered to the wind hoping it would be brought to the grieving man's ears. ____________________________________________________________________________ ________________
Muraki stood alone beside her grave two days after. Her relatives and the people who cared for her, though they seemed like hundreds, now where gone into the fog leaving the silver haired man alone to his miseries. But his miseries were long gone, all replaced by an anger than might have burned hell itself. He blamed himself for over estimating and her for being a mortal.
He knelt down beside her and dug a small hole on her fresh grave. He cried, after all those years, he cried once again like he did when his parents left him at the hands of Saki, then at the hands of someone he did not know, he cried once again reliving the hot liquid flow down his cheeks amidst the cold raindrops, a feeling that he had tried to much to forget.
He lit a black candle, its flame continues to remain unextinguished despite the rain. "Let her not remember me in the other life. Let her be in peace forever, with out any memory of the man who took her life." he whispered to the wind and poured the melted wax unto her grave. There grew and bloomed two roses, a black one and a white one, having the same roots on where he poured the wax.
He extracted from his pocket a piece of paper containing a formula, the formula for the medication he used on her as with with all the women he had recently killed. He left it there in the hole and covered it with the same soil that covered her. Together with her died his reason for living much less his passion to seek eternal life.
____________________________________________________________________________ ________________
She stood by the tree to where she was buried, finding it queer how people can be so sad and dark at such a time. She knew everyone and in her heart, she thanked each and everyone of them for finding time to visit her. But she can't find in her heart to cry, not until she saw that man. The man was crying on her grave though she couldn't remember who he was. She wracked her mind as to who he might be but there was nothing in her memory to remind her. But he cried there like he was the most affected of them all.
She couldn't catch what he was doing as he bent down, his back to her.
She felt someone touch her shoulder. "Come now," they called.
It had been a surprise to her the day before when they came to her and revealed themselves as Shinigamis. It was as if she understood why they were there at the Jiyuutei. But it was never revealed to her. When a person forgets how he or she dies, it was the Enma-Cho's regulation to leave them that way. It was rather peaceful to not know how a person died, whether a silent death or a gruesome one.
Hisoka and Tsuzuki knew very well how she died but rules are rules.
Hisoka threw Muraki one last look wondering if he knew that they were there... if he knew she was there. He was a Muraki that he has never seen before, one Muraki that contained a heart, a heart enough to grieve for the dead, a heart quickly turning to nothingness.
"If this be the worth of your madness, accept it Kazutaka Muraki." he whispered to the wind hoping it would be brought to the grieving man's ears. ____________________________________________________________________________ ________________