An Epitome Of Beauty…
"He was always a warrior. He fought till the very end…never gave in to the disease…never gave in to me…Sometimes I feel relieved at his departure from this world. I no more anticipate or expect from him-The great Aoshi Shinomori; the ex-leader of the Oniwabanshu and the one and only captor of my heart. Sometimes, I wonder if he ever loved me. He being a man of few words, I can only wonder. Never spoke much, never expressed much, only those eyes…ice blue eyes that bore a look of nothingness. That feeling of tension and anticipation is now replaced with grief. I don't feel the loss of him as much as I feel the loss of hope. They say, in life there is always hope but in death there is none. I now know how true that is. At times, I feel that I could probably have done something more for him…probably…but again being the warrior he is, he would not have accepted any of it. He died at the age of forty, a very young age. For two years I wept, I grieved and wished that I had died with him; but later, I realized that it would have been the same even a hundred years later. Aoshi Shinomori was always a cold man. At the age of thirty-five due to the persuasion of the fellow members of my clan, I married. I was lucky to find a kind husband at such a late age. However nice he was to me I could never love him. You fall in love only once in a lifetime. The only one I fell in love with was Aoshi Shinomori and the one who died was Aoshi Shinomori. Life is not all milk and honey, children. Fate can be cruel and strip you of whatever little you have. It is a great thing to love someone, but it is the greatest thing to be loved back by the one you love. Not many of us our lucky enough to experience this…so those of you who have it…cherish it."
The old woman wiped a tear away from her eye. She sighed. Age had taken a toll on her. She was now seventy-two years old. Her once blue-black hair was now completely white, her porcelain skin had become wrinkled, but her eyes…they were still blue but now, they held grief of the loss of her dear Aoshi-sama. There was no hope in them. She still loved him. Her memory of him would always be beautiful; for he was an epitome of beauty himself. At least to her it would be that way.
She looked at her grandchildren; they were still young and still had hopes –unlike her. What was only left for her to hope for was for her grandchildren to have a bright future filled with love and joy. She hoped that no one would have to endure a pain like she-Makimachi Misao did.