Kendo no Go
In the Language of Kendo:
A Fanfic in 100 Chapters
by Akai Kitsune
66: Aoi
~*~
The colour
of your clothes, dark and dull, giving you the ability to melt into the shadows
of the night and render yourself invisible to your enemies - or, if need be,
your allies. The shade so close to ebony it seems as though it is the very
apparel of death; walking death, the shadow assassin.
The colour of the growing
darkness in your own heart, circling your soul like a starving wolf, seeking to
tear apart and destroy all that is good, all that is healthy and worthwhile.
The colour of the gi you wear,
gaunt yet familiar, stained and heavy with the blood of the men you have killed.
The blood of men, and of one woman.
One was enough.
The colour
of eyes, beautiful, shining eyes which stare into your own with anger and
determination, an accusation on the lips underneath. The eyes, deep as the night
sky, which draw you in, force you to stare and try - try with all your heart,
even as you fail - and make you wonder just how such eyes can be so dark, yet so
light at the same time.
The colour of eyes, flashing
with inner strength that you envy and long to protect, even as you slowly begin
to realize that you would do anything - anything - to keep such eyes from
losing that wondrous integrity.
The colour of her heart, broken
and bleeding as you whisper words of farewell into her ear, holding her in your
arms for what must be - must be, for her safety, for her own good - the
last and only time. The colour of her heart as she loses the battle she fought
so hard against - the pull of duty which Kyoto represented for her, for you -
and allows herself to fall, to cry.
The colour of your heart, so
dark it feels as though it is returning to its past obscurity, as you turn your
back and leave her, footsteps heavy even as the wolves snap at your heels.
The colour
of the ribbon she offers you, a gift as sure as her smile and her friendship,
just as treasured. This colour, suddenly stained, suddenly heavy, but with
your blood, shed for her sake. And perhaps that is not so bad.
The colour of her eyes as they
flash with indignant anger, holding the bloody ribbon in her hands, even as
relief fills the deep pools of her soul's windows, knowing you are alive, you
are coming back to where you belong.
The colour of the ribbon you
assume she will choose as a replacement for the one you ruined. The colour of
her eyes as she smiles shyly, offering a different kind, just as soft, just as
comforting, but puzzling to you. The colour you would have given is so much more
pure and beautiful than the one she chose.
The colour
of the kimono she wears on the day you hold her hand in your own, taking her as
your wife, knowing you will treasure her more than any ribbon, more than any
scrap of worn clothing, falling apart at the seams and heavy with old memories.
Knowing you want to take her in your arms and never let go, never let yourself
forget how much you love her.
The colour of her eyes as she
smiles, glistening with tears and shining with joy as she tightens her fingers
around your own, just as nervous, but just as loving, and oh, so beautiful.
The colour of your angel.
~*~
|