It Can Never Be That Simple
By: Shattered Hourglass
Requested by: Kigen
Disclaimer: I do not own Shaman King.
I just can't do this anymore. I just can't.
It seems like for ever step forward I take three steps back. Tell me, what did I do to deserve this awful fate? I'm always reaching, straining, grasping; but always, always having what I want slip away, just out of my grasp.
I can't keep doing this. I can't inflict this pain upon myself any longer. I'm only human.
Am I running away? Maybe. Probably. Yeah. I am.
Call it what you may, that won't stop me. I have done all that I can, and have nothing left within this shattered being that once I called my soul.
And how many others have I shattered in my path of hatred and vengeance? How many others bear wounds that I have been the cause of? And more so, how many forgive me?
I know… I know I could go back if I tried. They would forgive me. And He, He would welcome me back with open arms. I can't though. While They have forgiven me, while He has forgiven me, I haven't forgiven myself. My pride won't allow me to. I don't deserve his smile.
I don't.
So I will take the coward's way out. Is there any other option? I will take all that remains of me and go away, far away so they will never have to see me again. I don't want anyone to see me.
Maybe rather than running, I should end my life instead… Heh. I'm a shaman. I should know better than to thinks thoughts like that. If I die, then my spirit will simply stay attached to this world. Death isn't the end of anything. Dieing by my own hand would be nothing more than stupidity.
But staying, that would be an even bigger blunder. I can't stay here with those I have betrayed. I can't stay here and continue to betray, just because I have been so by life.
Some may wonder what has brought on my sudden change of desires. Before, a few words were easily chosen to describe me. Determined. Stubborn; almost obsessively so. And then there were others that some chose to call me by. Hurt. Pitiful. Jaded. Lost.
It was no epiphany that brought about my change. There were no flashing light bulbs or angels singing on high to bring me to this realization. It was the admittance of my own inadequacy. It was the recognition that my battle was lost before it had even begun.
And thus, the last six years of my life had been nothing but a waste.
Now all that is left to do is disappear quickly so no one may notice my absence until it is too late and I am gone.
And yet, it can never be that simple, can it? Fate can never smile upon me. For here I am, ready to leave and never return, when He has to find me. When He has to ask me what I am doing and where I am going.
And He demands that I answer.
He may not seem like the forceful type, the determined type; most of the time He would just smile and let another have their own way; but that is untrue. When He wants an answer, REALLY wants an answer, He will hold you still with his unwavering gaze, those eyes so much like his despised twin's; demanding answers.
And so, I tell him. I do not explain myself, for there is no explanation to be given to him.
Now I stand and wait as he approaches me. It would be foolish to think that he would allow me leave after those words.
He asks me why, why I would leave and give up everything I have worked so hard for.
Again, I do not answer him.
He grasps my arms in his hands. My limbs are so small and frail compared to his. Should he hold me any tighter, I fear they will break.
He asks me again, and I can not look him in the eyes. I am so helpless against him. All I can do is ask that he release me and pray that he listens.
But that is only wishful thinking on my behalf. He is determined to be my savior, and He can be just as stubborn as I.
I don't understand why though; as he removes his hands to wrap his arms around my shoulders. After I had betrayed him, cursed him, done and said painful things that can not ever be forgiven; how can he still want to save the worthless remains of my soul?
It may just be his strength; his kindness. It is he who is pure, not me. I dirtied myself long ago.
He won't let go. He just stands there, my chest against his, my face against the flesh of his neck, his arms tight around my shoulders as his face lays smothered by the locks of my emerald colored hair; not saying a single word.
Again, I ask him to let me go.
He says no.
I can't help but begin to cry. Though I chide myself for being so weak, the tears do not listen and continue to well up and fall. It seems my anger and frustration have become too much for them.
He pities me. I can tell from the look that fills his eyes as he pulls away slightly to wipe my face.
I tell myself to ignore the concern, to ignore how nice it feels when his thumb gently rubs against my cheek. I press my hands, such small, weak hands; against his chest and push away. I struggle, I cry. I trash and push and plead and beg for him to let me go and disappear.
He just stands there calmly and lets me have my tantrum.
He is still holding me as I calm down, exhausted. I allow him to cradle my tired body to his. I allow him to touch my cheek softly. I allow him to press his lips against my own.
I can't fight against the longing for comfort anymore.
