Damn, Im on a roll. But I really do want to finish this story. The chapters aren't that long, anyway. :P

The Peasant

Asuma couldn't really consider himself miserable. He knew of many other commoners that were angry at the nobles: but personally, he had been fine just the way he was. It was a simple existence: eat, sleep, work. The money you earned didn't go to any extravagant items or parties: just the simple pleasures of life. He had always wanted to grow old with a wife and maybe make a couple of kids during the process.

Being rich and noble seemed so... tiring. People were always after you for your money, and everything always seemed to be at face value. Fake. Not to mention that it seemed like the nobles were caged - they were never able to do things the way the seemed to want; there was always a proper way. Everything else improper was wrong and frowned upon.

Tiring. Asuma had always thought that he would have hated being a noble. He had thought that he'd hate the dress codes and the stiffness that he would've had to display as a noble. Or a royal. He had thought that that was the worse thing that he could possibly be.

Until that day.

Until that faithful day where he stumbled upon possibly the most beautiful woman he'd ever see in his lifetime. She would certainly always remain the most beautiful, for him. He had been captured by her charm the first time she spoke: with elegance and grace that seemed otherworldly. He felt lucky just to meet her, even if he didn't show it.

Even though he was a man of exceedingly low standing, he was still a man. And a man was weak to love - weak to women.

So it shouldn't have been a surprise for him when he had started thinking about her more than he should've done, or when he had started craving to meet her - just one more time. But it wasn't one more time, and in fact, he started missing her the moment that she left. Everything about her was seared in the forefronts of his mind - from her smile, to her laugh, to her eyes, and to her hair.

And that was the moment he had discovered what a romantic he truly was.

And like all true romantics: he thought that he could just tell her - that after confessing his profound love for her, they would live happily ever after. Like all of the couples in the storybooks, young and old, rich and poor.

To be fair, his future did look brighter... for a while. She also admitted to loving him, admitted to dreaming about the same future that he did.

So they loved each other: mentally, emotionally, physically.

And he thought it'd all be perfect, and that it'd all work out - he'd just found the woman that he wanted to marry, that he wanted to grow old with and have children with. He'd found the woman that he wouldn't mind sharing the rest of his life with; on the contrary, he'd have loved to do just that.

But of course, his dreams couldn't have lasted; of course, they were in fact shattered the very next day. It had all been so abrupt; like throwing a rock and skipping it on the water, easily destroying the image that was set upon it.

She was a noble. And a very famous, prominent one at that.

The moment that he had found that out was the moment he had known that he would never be able to see her again. Of course she was a noble! What else could she possibly be? Someone as beautiful and perfect as her couldn't possibly be a peasant... couldn't possibly be on the same low level as he was. That was simply preposterous! A folly! A show of his lacking intelligence!

She was a noble, and she didn't deserve him. She didn't deserve someone as poor and stupid and simple as him - she deserved so much better, the renowned heartthrob of a Prince, or even the high-bred King who silently sat on his throne (even though he was already married). She didn't deserve to be shunned by her parents, by society, in order to be with some pathetic excuse of a man - a peasant - himself. And even if she was happy to throw it all away now, he wouldn't let her.

Because in a couple of years' time, she'd realise the mistake she made by marrying him. She'd realise that he had dragged her into the poverty that he was born in (and she wasn't) - and she'd hate him for it. And Asuma couldn't even stand the thought of it. He'd prefer to never see her again - if that was what it took - for her not to hate him.

It wasn't just that: if he let her go, she'd go on to live a better life. A more comfortable life than what Asuma could ever provide for her. With someone of her status, someone who deserved her. And obviously, that someone wasn't him. It would be some other rich bastard - and he could only swear because he was an improper commoner like that - who would father her children, who would get to look at her smile, who would do all the things he wished he could do.

It was when he reached that realisation - it was then - that he hated being born a peasant, for the very first time. If only he could've been born a noble; he would've been able to marry, he would've been able to live a happy life with her by his side and in his arms. Instead, he was stuck working on the fields, dreaming of what it never would be. Of what it never could be.

Because he wasn't a noble, but a peasant - and a peasant he would always be.

This has got to be my shortest chapter, and it actually felt quite repetitive. God, Asuma is quite hard to write since I was only looking at the romance side to it.

Reviews? I kind of want to reach fifty. An impossible dream, I know.

Aurora.