I don't own Ren, Jun, Yuan, Ran, HoroHoro or Pirika.
Rose 5: Always Alone
I stared out the window, a chill draft drifting through the empty rooms of the old and creaking building, and I shivered. I sat on the bed, blankly watching nothing. I had no sheets or pillows or blankets in the room. Nothing but the bare bed, a cracked mirror, the window that gave me a view of a distant city's skyline, and myself.
My arms wrapped around my knees, tucked against my empty stomach, starved in that hollow life. My hair laid limp around me, but I refused to cry; to howl in the agony of living that way: barely.
I'd remained there, lost to myself for days, maybe weeks, just staring dully outside. No one knew I was there, and I had no intention of returning home. No one there cared about me; no one realized my pain and fear. And so I stayed there, with every thought to just die in that room.
But I saw the green leaves of the bush that had been growing outside, and realized it was wilting. I got to my feet for the first time in several hours. Stumbling slightly, I reached the bathroom and, after using the toilet, got a glass of water and took it to the plant. I poured it and two more glasses on its roots under the ground and tried to fluff the leaves. Beside it, I saw a small group of nuts, and I picked them up, bringing them into the room. I ate them, unable to stop myself or pace them out, devouring them within minutes.
A week passed and I continued watering the bush and eating nuts or berries I found, mostly near to the plant, but a few days I went out and looked for food, hardly able to stand the constant grind of my stomach. Soon the bush began to blossom and then bloom.
Dozens of roses met me in the morning, all a deep, but not dark, blue. I remained for more days, more weeks, wanting to watch them live out their lives, but they didn't wilt. I didn't understand why; they just stayed, undying. I considered going home finally, but doubted I had the strength to make the trip. A month passed, and I found myself running merely to run. I realized I could make it home. And I should.
Someone must be worried; Mother or Jun. I returned to the roses once more and looked through them, touching them and pricking my fingers on every thorn they brushed. At last I found the perfect flower and plucked it carefully. As soon as it came away, the rest of the plant died, but the one in my hand seemed to open a little further, the blue to become a little brighter, and I gently held it as I started my long journey home.
I had come across a great water to get where I was. I traveled the mountains again, and as I reached the far north of the island, the country, I found the small village I passed on my way out. I walked down the streets, my hair hanging around me.
"Hey!" I heard someone call out. I glanced up to see a boy about my age running up to me. "I knew I'd see you again!" he said.
I stared at him, recognizing, but unable to remember his name; if he had told me when we first met. His blue hair was light and sprinkled white from the snow falling around us. He smiled broadly.
"Are you going home?" he asked. I nodded. "That's good! Have you been staying alone this whole time?"
I nodded once more, adding, "I'm always alone." His smile dropped slightly.
"Oh. Well, that sucks, huh? I'm never alone, what with my little sister always tagging along."
"I don't see her now," I observed.
"Well, she's at a friends. I just dropped her off. I'll have to pick her up soon too."
"Oh," I said. After a moment of silence, I said I needed to leave, still holding the rose carefully. I began to walk away, the two of us waving goodbye, and just as I started to turn a corner, he called out, "When will I ever see you again?"
I turned around and walked back. I handed him the flower. "We will meet again, I promise. The day that rose wilts, we will meet once more." I gently kissed his cheek and walked away.
Years have passed since that day. I was nine, and he was nine. I don't know how long he kept that rose, or where he kept it. If he knew the day we met that we would meet. Or if his mother had thrown it out long before, or if Pirika or another friend had, whether accidentally or purposefully, torn it up. I don't know if he knew the moment he saw me that I was the boy from his memories; or if he still held those memories.
But the moment I met HoroHoro for the third time in my life, I knew it was him. And I wanted to cry; to hug him and tell him how much I'd missed him. But I couldn't. That wasn't me. Many things have changed in both of us since those first two meetings, but one thing never did.
I still love him, and I always will.
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