Okay, so I know probably a lot of you will want to kill me after I say this... but I have to say it anyway. Okay, here goes... (deep breath) Well ladies and gentlemen, it has come to my attention that everything I have left to say in this story... will not fit in one chapter. (Takes cover behind a chair) Please, ladies and gentlemen! One extra chapter! That's all I'm asking you! And remember, if you kill me, I'll NEVER be able to finish. Bwahaha! There's my trump card.
IMPORTANT NOTICE: THIS IS NOT THE END. THE LAST SENTENCE OF THIS CHAPTER IS NOT THE LAST SENTENCE OF THE STORY. THERE WILL BE AN EPILOGUE. I say this so vehemently because I don't want anyone who has been patient enough to stick with me thus far cop out now because the ending of this story sucks! It's not the end yet!
(Breathless) Thank you, ladies and gentlemen. Keep your handkerchiefs handy and now, enjoy the show.
The Guardian
by Ichigo2491
Chapter Eleven
His once-dark hair was shot with iron grey and silver, and his soft beard was almost completely white. His freckles had long since faded, but he surveyed his true love with golden-brown eyes that were still as alive as when he was a young man.
He sat by her bedside, poring over the marble figure that lay there. Her face, lines creeping from the corners of her mouth and eyes, was framed by snowy white hair. Her breathing rasped from her throat, and her thin fingers, which he held in his hard, brown ones, trembled as she coughed and struggled to draw breath. His heart ached as he looked at her, suffering. She was not yet old enough to leave him, and indeed it was not age that was taking her from him.
Rin had always been frail; taking whatever sickness came through the village. This time, she had not had time to recover from her first illness before the second epidemic swept through the chilly clearing, causing her to fall even sicker than before. No medicine they could find, no remedy at all could cure Rin. Her fever refused to break, and she tossed and turned and coughed all day and night.
Rinko, now aged 13, had pleaded with her parents to be allowed to stay and help, but Kohaku refused to take any chances with his beloved daughter's safety, and Rin agreed that she should be sent away. So the girl reluctantly went to stay with her eldest brother and his large family. Rafu and Yukio had been coming to visit every day, bringing food that Minako and Miyuki made, and paper cranes from the children. Ichiro had been busy trying to help the families had been stricken. But the epidemic had almost passed now. Most victims were now in the final stages of recovery. All except for Rin.
Two days ago, Kohaku had come to the realization that Rin was not recovering. They had tried every recommended remedy and even some they made up themselves, but if anything, she was getting worse. Kohaku was a man of hope, but he was all out of it now. When he knew this, he told Rafu and Yukio not to come anymore. The sons said their final goodbyes to their mother and then Rinko did the same, tears streaming down her freckled face. Rin did not cry, but smiled at her children with the same warmth for which she was beloved by all who knew her.
It was strange for the family to be banned from the bedside of a dying family member, but his children seemed to understand, even on a subconscious level, their father's need to be alone with their mother in her final hours. And so for the past 2 days, Kohaku had kept his lonely vigil at Rin's deathbed. He held her hand, he spoon-fed her medicine that he knew would make no difference, listened to her delirious cries, and for her dear sake, he kept back his tears.
He had been fighting for her his whole life, and he was still fighting for her, fighting to hold back the wave of grief that was threatening to overflow within him. He did not want her to see him cry; he had to be strong for her. Her breathing rattled in her chest like a wild animal in a cage, straining to get out. The odor of disease, enough to sicken Kohaku to his stomach, had long since permeated the house.
Not much longer now, Kohaku thought grimly.
It was a summer evening, and crickets chirped outside. The midnight landscape was bathed in moonlight, and the silvery glow crept through the window, illuminating Rin's slumbering face, bringing a youthful appearance to her aged features. Still holding her pale hand in his left, Kohaku reached out with his right and tenderly caressed her cheek. And then, he broke down, long-suppressed tears pouring down his face and into his beard. His chest heaved with sobs.
Rin's eyes, hazy with sickness, slowly opened and she smiled tremulously at him. He removed his hands to hide his tear-streaked face in them, humiliated to be seen in such a state. She tried to raise her arms to embrace him, but she was too weak to lift them, and they fell to her sides, shaking as her hands began to smooth the wrinkles on her blankets.
"Don't be sad," she whispered in a voice as thin as a thread. "I love you."
Kohaku's heart, as it always did when she spoke those words, thudded harder in his chest. Smiling through his tears, he picked up her hands and held them to his face. "I love you too, Rin," he whispered. She smiled… and then she was gone.
Kohaku let out a wail of grief and bowed his head, gathering his wife's wasted body into his arms. And somewhere, the villagers say to this day, a giant dog was howling as if in pain, his enormous body silhouetted against the full moon.
So like I said... don't kill me... or you'll never know the rest! (which I hope to post within the month). Don't hate me!