Another one-shot, in an attempt to get rid my writer's block over What They All Don't Know. This is a little plot monster I got after my teacher mentioned The Member of the Wedding. Semi-AU.
Disclaimer: TT……TT…… Rou-ken's not mine. Please don't sue!
Yuki no Hana
By bringer of the sun
There was never a them. It was always just her and just him.
Misao stared blankly at the snow. She sat on the shrine steps, arms around her shins and chin resting on her knees, curled into herself, away from the cold. Always from the world. She seemed so small, a dark dot against the white-washed expanse of the shrine courtyard, and so utterly alone in the middle of the pure whiteness unmarred by a single step. Absently, she noted the sparse fluffy flakes that drifted ever so softly from the sky, frosting her bangs and braid.
She used to believe the falling bits of water and ice were flowers. Snow flowers, she had called them. How many times had she sat by the old window which shook with the force of the stormy gales, watching the flurry of pure white snow flowers bury the city?
The snow fell endlessly, coating and recoating the world with its pallid splendor. It was beautiful, this masked world. Beautiful and bitterly cold. It was a chill that forced its way past skin, froze blood and settled itself deeply into aching bones.
He had left on such a day. She had been as pale and pure as the snow around her then. She had chased after him, clumsy little feet scattering the fresh powder with each running step to reveal the old, tainted ice that lay beneath. The cold had stung her feet, sinking its claws into her tender flesh until at last she cried out, tumbling to her knees in an undignified pile of child and cloth on the blackened snow. She lay there as the snow flowers drifted on and about her, unable to quell the trembling in her lips or the tears that overflowed her bright turquoise eyes. When she finally looked up, the horizon was empty. He was already gone.
And then how many times had she sat pressed against the same icy window, peering intently through the veil of snow flowers for any sign, any glimpse of him?
The familiar cold teased her feet now. She sighed, the frigid air coloring the cloud of her breath. He was back now. Ten years away and he suddenly decided to show up at the Aoiya again. Nothing had changed in the five years he had been back. Still, it remained just her and just him. He was alone in the shrine behind her, meditating.
She had followed him here, as always, trailing several feet behind him with her eyes trained on his back. He never asked her to come nor questioned her decision to do so. She never asked to come. She just did. She would accompany him into the temple and sit on the steps outside, waiting for him to finish. They never spoke on these excursions.
When he felt ready to return to the Aoiya, he would take his leave of the shrine, pausing to acknowledge her with a nod. As he walked away, she would follow, always several feet behind with her eyes on his back.
The snow fell thicker now, in soft, fat globs that soaked the outermost layer of her kimono. The sound of a closing door made her turn around. He stood there, dark blue against pure white and tipped his head slightly, lips curved in the ghost of a smile. Her eyes followed him as he walked down towards her, and then two steps past, where he stopped.
"Misao," he murmered, turning toward her.
She froze in her seat. "Aoshi-sama?"
"Misao, let us go home."
And they did, with the petals of snow flowers falling silently around them.
FIN
Please R&R! Constructive criticism is very greatly appreciated!