Author: Xinderella
Title: I Am
Chapter Five: Rose
Disclaimer: Please refer to first chapter for usual disclaimer.
Other: This is in honor of Miyu and Larva on Valentine's Day! Please note that Miyu is very young in this fic, probably only a child. I don't know, maybe eight or nine years old.
Damn! It's already March, and I had planned to post this on Valentine's Day! Ah, well. Sorry for the delay!
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I pluck a few blossoms from the branches of the sakura tree, a bit timidly, as if some angel were watching me, knowing my intentions. They would try to stop me. I don't deserve you. I don't think I deserve to even do this for you. I wait. Wait for it. But no bolts of lightning strike me to send me to the darkness.
A bit bolder now, I pick a dozen violets from the gardens of the wilderness. A few foxgloves here, some ladies' slippers there. Hyacinths and purple petunias, orange poppies and hollyhocks. Bright orange Birds of Paradise, sunny marigolds, and pink carnations. White baby's breath and daisies.
There are a million rainbows in my basket. But there is one more that I would like to pluck from its wild array of thorns.
Reaching gingerly through the prickly branches, I find the reddest, loveliest one of them all.
Pretty flower. Rose. Rose red. Ruby red. The color of your crimson eyes. Not nearly as beautiful, though.
I consider cutting off the thorns from its stem. I decide against the idea. I'd regret it. It's much more beautiful with the thorns. Somehow. It just seems more natural. Less vulnerable. Pretty. Like you.
Hmmm . . . I gaze up at the sky above. I wish that I could just reach up and pluck a piece of the sky for you, to match your hair. So pretty.
Giggling at the thought, I race to show you my present. I rush along the river's edge, a bit giddy with the excitement of finally giving something to you. I hope you like it.
There is a wide, shallow area of the river where I can cross over. There is a path of stones, with each stepping-stone set a foot away from each other.
Easy.
I hop across. Hop, hop. Hop, hop, hop.
Almost there! I skip from one stone to the next.
Oh!
I slip on a wet rock. I fall into the river and my basket goes flying. I reach out to grab it, but someone's sudden, surprised cry of pain stops me. It is me. I had cried out.
Oh. . .
My million rainbows float away with the laughing water. Babbling, bubbling brook. Salt is added to the water as my tears fall into it. The stream grows all sparkly because of the sunlight reflecting off of it, and blurry because of the tears in my eyes.
Oh, how I wish I had been more careful with my precious cargo. I wrap my arms around the slippery rock, trying to get a good grip. My feet barely touch the river floor.
Ahh!
I shout in surprise and pain, once again. My hand is hurting. I raise it in front of my face for closer inspection. I can barely see because of the tears in my eyes. It is bleeding. But there is something else in my hand, crimson and . . .
My rose! The thorns had dug into my skin, making it bleed. But the rose is still there, still clinging to my injured palm.
I smile a bit. I am happier than I was before, when I thought I had lost them all. I still had the most precious of them. Still had the most perfect. Surprisingly, it wasn't at all marred in any way. The battering it had taken seemed no more detriment than if a fly had landed on it.
I have to get out of this river. Not knowing any other way, unwilling to toss it onto shore and risking losing it again, I place it between my teeth. I heave myself up onto the rock, but fall off again. I give a muffled cry as my tongue scrapes against a thorn. Vision blurred, obstructed by tears, I begin to swim for shore. It's only a few yards. Stroke, stroke, stroke. You can do it!
I blink the tears out of my eyes. I dog paddle the rest of the way to shore. Dignity was never one of my strongest points.
I reach the shore, and fling my whole body out onto it. Panting, I remove the flower from my mouth. The bitter, coppery taste of my own blood fills my mouth. It mixes with my saliva, creating a disgusting bile. I spit it out onto the wet grass. Wiping my mouth on my sleeve, I try to staunch the blood flow by ripping a piece of the hem of my kimono off and placing it in my mouth, pressing it against my tongue.
I pick up the rose and flee the quiet streamside scene.
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Larva closed the card and gazed at the flower with an indifferent look on his face, the same one that he always had on all the time.
After a moment, he placed the card gently on the table, and after a few seconds' hesitation, tucked the flower inside his immense cloak.
He walked away, not bothering to glance back at the forgotten note on the table. He had memorized every single word of it.
It lay open still, for the entire world to read . . .
– For the most beautiful rose in a field of wildflowers –
– Happy Valentine's Day –
– Love, Miyu –
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Author's Note: When all the flowers except the rose had been lost, it was a symbol of how Larva had never left her, even when it seemed as if the rest of the world was against her. The flower stayed with her, still clung to her, even when the rest left her. The rose was a symbol of Larva.
Review! And no flames please!
Happy Valentine's Day, everybody!
-Xinderella